A/N I wrote this for the Halloween Weekend Darling Pan Prompt on Tumblr. Inspiration came from the song Make Out in the Graveyard by sELF. It's short and cute, give it a listen. R&R. Unbeta'd.

The first time she had seen him had been right after they mysteriously woke up in Storybrooke with a missing year. Her and her well-meaning brothers hadn't been swept up in Peter's curse like the rest of the town. They got stuck, frozen in time, unmoving, unchanging, and with no real memories of the year that passed until suddenly it was over and the entire town was back again.

The curse happened so fast and so suddenly that she hadn't time to mourn his death beforehand. If you asked her, though, she'd tell you her tears were ones of relief, for Peter was a hateful boy that she had no right to love. And she didn't. Or, at least, she didn't think she did. All she knew was that for one hundred years Peter Pan tormented her, loved her, locked her in a cage, and taught her to fly. For one hundred years, he was everything to her–good and bad, happy and sad. He, and Neverland, had been her home.

Tink was the only one who knew and understood her conflicted feelings.

Peter wanted to kill Henry. She couldn't stand for that, and so she defied him and helped the Savior and the Evil Queen save the day. Then, the next thing she knew, Peter had a dagger in his back.

Her world had crumbled. Not wanting Henry to die didn't mean she wanted Peter to take his place. The only thing he left behind was a curse.

Then time stood still, and when she breathed again, he was there.

She saw him standing across the street in an alley by Granny's. She wanted to run to him, to make sure he was real and alive. It seemed too unreal. Before she could move, he disappeared. One second there, and the next... nothing.

She blinked twice and even went so far as to pinch herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

It must have been a trick of the light, or even a hallucination. It wouldn't surprise her if she started seeing things after everything she'd been through. Part of her worried that he had cheated death and was about to enact his revenge on the town, but another, smaller, part of her hoped that he survived and would be content to take her away to find Neverland.

For so long she had a fire burning inside her. It was bright and hot and she'd grown used to the flames licking her insides. It made her stronger and braver. Then suddenly it was snuffed out and she was filled with a dark, cold smoke that fogged her path. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't see. She felt lost and she couldn't explain why. She was a lost girl.

The irony was not lost on her.

She told herself she was going mad, and did everything she could to hide the growing emptiness inside her, because she shouldn't feel this way. This was the way she'd felt before she'd been to Neverland the first time. Sort of empty. Sort of unwilling. A lot confused. This new world was nothing like she remembered, and the one thing that brought her comfort during the long Neverland nights was gone–which was good, she had to remind herself, for he was bad.

She went through the motions, mostly for her brothers' sake. They went through so much to save her, and she was more than happy to be free of Pan's manipulations, but she'd always miss his secret kindness shown only to her.

It's funny, in a completely not funny way, she thought one night as her brothers explained to her the wonders of Netflix. She went to Neverland, the one place where everything is supposed to stay the same forever, and irrevocably changed. She hardly recognized herself anymore.

The second time she'd seen him had been in the woods by Baelfire's headstone.

She couldn't go to the funeral as every time she tried to get out of bed she immediately collapsed into sobs.

Bae was too good for this world, and it was a great injustice that he didn't get his happy ending. The more she thought about her sweet brother, the more bitter she grew. That pain was something she thought would plague her heart until the day she died.

It was a week later, at dusk, with clouds brewing in the distance and an out of place green glow in the western sky that she finally built up the courage to go to the graveyard. She asked Tink to come with her, and the fairy agreed.

Though she had her wings back, she hadn't lost her spirit. Tink was still a spitfire, and she was more than willing to break the rules for Wendy. "Fairies aren't just for granting wishes and looking pretty," she'd told Wendy.

And though Wendy protested, reminding Tink that she could very well lose her wings again, it didn't stop the fairy from taking off after a group of rowdy teenagers defacing headstones on the other side of the graveyard and yelling out taunts and lies about Baelfire. She was on a mission to kill and those boys were her target.

Wendy wasn't sad to see them get their due, but she wished Tink had stayed by her. Missing Bae was hard enough. She didn't need an unreliable friend to make matters worse.

Then she saw him by the tree line. He was wearing his standard green leaf tunic. His hair was swept to the side, like normal, but his face seemed healthier than last time. He glowed. Perhaps it was because last time she had seen him, he'd been on the brink of death.

This time she had the inexplicable urge to run away in fear, but she squashed it down. If he really was alive, she wasn't going to run away. If he wanted revenge for her betrayal, so be it.

Then she blinked and he was gone. She pursed her lips and crossed her arms, allowing herself to pretend that the sinking feeling in her stomach was caused by the headstone in front of her and not the ghost of the vanishing boy.

She clutched her jacket close as a cold wind whipped around her. It made Wendy miss the warm Neverland weather. There were no seasons in Neverland, so this would be the first Autumn for her in one hundred years. It was bittersweet.

Tink came back and Wendy didn't mention what she saw. Together they went to Granny's for a good cry and a cup of hot apple cider. Their waitress, Ruby–who Wendy learned was Little Red Riding Hood–promised them that there was "no better apple cider this side of the Evil Queen's Castle."

As with all good stories, things come in threes. The third time she saw Peter Pan happened much later and went a little something like this:

"I'm freezing in this! Are you sure this is appropriate Halloween attire?" she asked Tink as a cold breeze rustled the dead leaves on the sidewalk, adding to the creepy nighttime atmosphere.

"How would I know? This is my first Halloween."

"Then why did you suggest we wear... this?"

"I went with the nuns to deliver supplies to the high school. All the kids said the shorter the costume, the better it is," she explained.

"Well, they didn't take into account the fact that there is an evil snow queen on the loose, did they?"

"You look cute."

"I don't feel cute, I feel cold."

Tink only laughed in response, though there was nothing about this situation Wendy found particularly funny. Another gust of wind blew through Wendy's bare legs as she walked and she clenched down on her jaw to stop her teeth from chattering.

Two hours ago, her brothers had been with Wendy in the kitchen, telling her about Halloween and how over the years, especially in America, it had transformed into a holiday for children to get candy. She thought it was a wonderful idea to dress up and play the part. She'd always been good at acting, after all.

So when Tink arrived with two costumes from a local shop, Wendy happily pulled her into her room.

Trick or treating was not what Tink had in mind, and that became clear when she announced they were going to crash a party. Wendy put up a fight. She'd seen some of the parties Tink referenced. It didn't seem like her kind of thing, but then Tink had to go and remind her that she was Wendy Darling, damn it, and she'd never fallen in to stereotypes before.

"Come on, Wendy," Tink encouraged with a dark grin. "Halloween is a time to do things you wouldn't normally do. You get to be someone else for an entire night! It's a time for dressing up and making bad decisions."

"That sounds like something a Lost Boy would say."

"They always had fun, didn't they? If you get uncomfortable, just tell me, and we'll leave, but I don't think you will. It'll be fun, I promise." When she didn't respond, Tink goaded, "Live a little. Be rebellious for one night."

Wendy reached forward and snapped a costume out of Tink's hand.

"I ran away to Neverland when I was fifteen years old, leaving everything I knew behind. I've always been a rebel."

They changed into their costumes, too short and too small for Wendy's Edwardian sensibilities, and left to go to the party.

Tink was dressed as a "sexy" devil with a smearing of black and red face makeup and a headband with horns. Wendy had never seen the devil before (though she always pictured Peter playing that role), she was sure there was more to its outfit than a simple red dress that ended mid-thigh. The skirt stuck out in straight lines like it was made for dancers and it glittered whenever Tink walked through light. It was very revealing.

Not that Wendy's costume was much better.

She was dressed as a pirate–the Red-Handed Jill, at last. Her top consisted of a tight blue corset with black lace, and her bottom was a similar skirt to Tink's. The costume came with a plastic hook, but that felt too blasphemous to put on, so she added a red bandana and a makeup scar to complete the look.

They left shortly after. She may have enjoyed dressing up, but the cold winds were quickly drained any enthusiasm for a fun night.

Tink pulled Wendy around one last corner, coming to a stop in front of a gilded black iron gate with a sign that read, "Hillside Memorial–Please Keep Quiet On Grounds," otherwise known as Storybrooke's very own graveyard.

Behind the gate was a large hill littered with headstones, and, Wendy knew, beyond that was several acres of cemetery land with a few mausoleums dotted around the outskirts. Night had long since fallen, and a fog crept in, making the whole thing look like a scene from a horror movie. A second later, a bright light appeared on the other side of the hill and people started clapping.

Her stomach dropped.

"They must have started the bonfire." Tink said.

"Tink! A graveyard party?"

"It's not bad, it's fun."

As though her words had conjured it, a loud whooping and hollering could be heard over the hill covered in headstones. A second later, something crashed down and the light of the bonfire got brighter, much to the amusement of the people watching.

"Only, it seems inappropriate to be dancing on cemetery grounds, disrespectful." Wendy tried to explain her discomfort, but what she said wasn't what she was thinking.

As Tink pulled her out of her comfort zone and through the gate, the only thought she could focus on was Baelfire's disappointed face as Wendy and Tink danced above his grave. She couldn't do that. Not to him. He was too precious. Not to mention the last time she had been here had been the last time she had seen Peter.

But he was dead. Gone and lost forever. Along with Bae, and Felix, and a good number of Lost Boys.

They made it to the top of the hill overlooking the bonfire below. Wendy gasped.

Suddenly, she felt like she'd been transported fifty years back in time. She was in Neverland again with the Lost Boys dancing around the bonfire while she looked on either happily or angrily, depending on the day's events.

She could have sworn what she saw in front of her was a scene straight from her memory, but with headstones instead of trees. The flames danced, the boys crowed, people ate and drank in merriment. It felt surreal to be staring down on the scene.

"Is that…?"

"Yes."

"And…?"

"Yep."

Wendy gave a delighted laugh, the first one since she had reunited with her brothers at the docks. Her apprehension was quickly draining.

There, right in front of her, were boys of all ages and sizes, dancing maniacally around a fire. Some were off to the side joking and laughing. Two were playing music. A good portion of them had on ridiculous costumes. She saw a werewolf, a zombie, something that looked like blue muscle suit with a red and yellow S on it, and, through the smoke and flame, Wendy thought she saw someone wearing a quilted robe that looked achingly familiar. She turned away quickly and focused on the one thing that stood out above the rest.

"Curly, Nibs, Rufio! There all here! All the Lost Boys! You took me to a Lost Boys party?" Wendy faced Tink, feeling half afraid and half amazed.

"Don't be mad," Tink quickly raised a hand. "I know you've missed them, despite what you keep telling everyone. I'm not stupid. There are parts of Neverland I miss, too. So, when Blue told me she had seen sightings of boys in the woods stealing from Robin Hood's Merry Men, I told her I'd investigate. Found them and encouraged them to throw a party for old time's sake."

"You didn't get in trouble?"

"Blue's as stupid as she looks," Tink laughed. "I told her I sorted it, and she believed me. I guess that comes from being back in her good graces."

"I don't understand. When we came back, I thought everyone found a home."

"That's what Emma promised, but then she went and forgot everything while the rest of us were sent back to the Enchanted Forest. She came back to stop Zelena, but she hasn't mentioned the tens of kids she orphaned. They were alone. They didn't have Neverland. Nibs told me how hard it was to adjust."

"So they banded together? They've been living in the forest? Stealing?"

"Yeah."

"And they did this without Peter? They managed to work together without an authority figure?"

Wendy squashed a smile and ignored the rush of pride she felt for her boys. Maybe it was all the games of Mother they used to play, but she was so happy to see her boys taking care of themselves.

Tink nodded and crossed her arms.

"You can take the Lost Boy out of Neverland, but you can't take Neverland out of the Lost Boy."

Wendy bit her lip.

"I don't know what to do. Are they angry with me?"

Tink rolled her eyes, nudged her down the hill, and said, "They're our family, Wendy. Or have you already forgotten how things work in Neverland?"

"I'll never forget," Wendy replied quickly. "But, I also haven't forgotten the times they chased me down on Peter's orders."

"You don't have to worry," Tink told her. "Pan's dead, right?"

Wendy thought of the robed figure beyond the flames and the two times she thought she'd seen him. Those were just wishful thinking, weren't they? He couldn't be alive. He would have come for her, right?

Tink noticed Wendy's hesitation and raised one eyebrow.

"Well, if he's still around, I'm sure you'll be the first to know, and we can deal with it then. Until then, have a little fun. It's Halloween! Act out! Make bad decisions! Have this one last night of playing pretend before the real world comes back tomorrow morning. I hear it comes with one hell of a headache."

With that, Tink entered the throng of people, followed closed by Wendy.

As soon as she was spotted, Wendy was whisked away from Tink's side with a delighted cheer. All the old Lost Boys greeted her in delight. The younger ones asked for a story or a hug while some of the older ones dared to ask for a dance. They passed around food and drink–better known as stolen jerky and beer–and laughed until they couldn't breathe. All the boys wanted to see Wendy, and she didn't say no.

She accepted the food and drink, she hugged the younger boys and danced with the older ones, and, all the while, she kept one eye out for the figure in the robe. She saw him once on the opposite side of the bonfire again, but she couldn't see his face, and once more by a mausoleum, but his back was turned.

There was a few newcomers to the group, as well. Some young boys with fresh nicknames like Stitch and Tramp and Fox. There was even a small group of Lost Girls that Wendy stumbled upon. Their names were Goldilocks, Alice, and Gretel (whose brother named Hansel was learning how to shoot a bow with Rufio). Perhaps the most interesting person she met was a young woman named Lily. She had dark skin and darker eyes and a stinging wit to match Wendy's.

The night flew by in a whirlwind of laughter and happy nostalgia. Before she knew it, the bonfire was dying and the moon hovered brightly in the middle of the sky.

Wendy was halfway listening to Lily tell the story of how she felt lost and how the Lost Boys were her new home when she saw the robed figure again. Perhaps she had had too much to drink, or perhaps she took Tink's words to heart and planned to make a few bad choices, but Wendy suddenly found herself making excuses to Lily and rushing off to follow the robed figure.

The boy in the robe walked away from the party, heading quickly into the surrounding darkness. Wendy tried to catch up, even calling after him, but the figure didn't slow, and pretty soon she was on the outskirts of the graveyard with the party a mere whisper behind her.

The figure went behind a mausoleum, and she followed with a smile and a lightness to her steps. Was this how Peter felt when he chased her? It was exhilarating. It could be the alcohol in her system, but this was the most fun she had in years, possibly decades.

She turned the corner and stopped dead in her tracks, her happy glow slowly fading.

The figure was gone, disappeared into the fog, but right in front of her sat the headstone of Neal Cassidy. Wendy forgot all about the boy she followed and instead walked the few steps to put a heavy hand on stone.

More than she wished for Peter's return–which she didn't at all absolutely not no way–and more than she wished for her confusing life to be settled once and for all, Wendy wished for Bae's happy ending. She wanted him alive and content with the son he never knew and his true love at his side.

Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted the robe she'd been following swish and approach her with an all too familiar gait.

She sighed.

"Peter."

Of course it was him. She wasn't surprised. Why else would she have followed him out here, alone, if she didn't, on some level, believe he was still alive? It only made sense. The Lost Boys were together, they lived in a forest, they were still recruiting. His stench was all over it.

"Hello, bird," he replied. His voice sparked a fire inside her and she closed her eyes, relishing in the burn.

"You're alive," she stated, unsure of what else to do and unwilling to look at him yet.

"Keen observation."

"How?"

"Why should I tell you?" His tone didn't sound angry, but she knew he must be a little sore over her helping the Savior save her son.

"You've always told me things."

"And look where that's got me."

Wendy still refused to look at him, but she couldn't keep her eyes shut for much longer. Her heart beat in her throat as every conversation she'd ever had with him played behind her eyes. She'd forgotten how he liked to play games.

"Your still breathing, aren't you," Wendy said sarcastically and opened her eyes to look at him in her periphery. "Despite all attempts on your life, you're still here."

She could hear the grin in his voice as he responded, "Peter Pan never fails."

"Spare me the theatrics, Peter, and tell me how you did it."

It crossed her mind that she was the only one in the world, perhaps all the worlds, who could talk to Peter this way. It made her feel powerful.

"I didn't. You did."

"What? I don't understand."

"Magic comes from belief, you know that. Only it's different with me. I have to be believed in. As long as people believe in me, I can't die."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Henry may be the truest believer in magic, but you, darling, are the truest believer in me."

That was a funny way of looking at it.

"How can that be? I thought you were dead."

"Did you?" Peter asked and it sounded more like a laugh. He didn't believe her. "Did you cry, Wendy-bird?"

Yes, she had. Many times. She began crying the minute the curse broke and she awoke from her year-long slumber. She told John and Michael they were tears of joy, and they bought it. Tink took more convincing. And Hook… the one time she had seen him, he'd known right away.

Wendy glanced at Bae's headstone. It gave her enough strength to turn her back and look at Peter. She mimicked his stance and took in his appearance, savoring every second of it.

He wore a red, gold, and brown robe with a thick scarf and a red vest. His eyes were bright green and no longer had dark circles around them. His skin was clear and his mouth was twisted in an ever familiar smirk that made his features look even more elfish than normal. Wendy felt her stomach tie in knots.

Something about the spooky atmosphere and Tink's encouragement for bad decisions spurred her to ignore her questions about his return and instead focus on the present. Peter's plan didn't matter, not in the moment, not as long as he was standing there in his quilted robe in the middle of the night after she had one drink too many. The cold numbed her bones and the beer numbed her worry.

"Is that your costume?" She asked, her voice light and easy.

Peter, always willing to play a game, wasn't thrown off by her comment, and instead answered with a dramatic flourish, eyebrows arching in excitement.

"I'm the Pied Piper."

"Fitting." Wendy dead-panned, but she couldn't deny she liked his outfit.

"And what are you, bird?" Peter's eyes trailed up her body and she felt herself blush in the dark.

"Oh, you know me. I've always wanted to be a pirate." Which was true, but the pirates she'd seen never dressed as scanty as this. "Call me Red-Handed Jill, the most fearsome sailor on the seven seas."

"That's a pirate outfit?"

Peter laughed, probably picturing Captain Hook wearing the blue corset. Wendy giggled as well. She would love to see the frightening and oft-drunk Captain wearing her mini skirt and lacy top. Her heeled boots would match perfectly with his sword belt.

"You don't make a good pirate." He scrunched his nose in distaste.

"I think I'd make a great pirate," Wendy defended with a smile. "The Captain tried to recruit me more than once, you know."

"That was only to get to me," Peter countered and took a step forward, lowering his voice.

"How narcissistic of you."

"I'm only telling you the truth to spare your feelings later."

He took another step forward so she was looking directly in his eyes. They practically glowed in the moonlight. He must have been enjoying their banter. It had been a long time since they'd gone toe to toe in a playful manner, and she was secretly enjoying it, too. She blames that on Tink and the Halloween spirit.

"Are you sure it's not your feelings you're sparing? You couldn't stand the thought of me joining Hook's crew," Wendy taunted, enjoying the momentary power over him.

"You belong to me, not with a disabled pirate," Peter said. She'd heard all this before and his words no longer terrified her. Now she could see it for what it was: his insecurity.

"Is that so?" She knew this conversation backwards, and already knew where this was going to end up.

"You're mine."

"No, I'm not. But," she allowed, because Halloween was a night to be someone else, someone you're not, so she was going to let her loose tongue say the things she'd never say under normal circumstances. "But, I don't think I'll ever be free of you."

Peter lowered his head and gave a toothy smile.

Whether it was love or hate, she always felt so strongly for Peter, ever since the beginning. It was unfair for them to be suited so perfectly for each other, but to have an unbreakable wall between them. Even when she was sure he was dead, he haunted her footsteps and invaded her dreams. She could move back to London and fall in love with a middle class banker and have one daughter named Jane and maybe a son or two, but she would never be free of him.

That was clear to her the moment she left Neverland the first time.

She wondered if Peter could understand that. She searched his features for some hint to his thoughts, but his face was covered in shifting shadows cast by the moon and clouds, and all she could see was his eyes. They held a storm in them. She almost took a step back, but his gaze rooted her to the ground.

Then he leaned forward like he was going to kiss her and she held her breathe.

It wouldn't be the first time they kissed and she doubted it would be the last, but it felt so inherently wrong to her in that moment. She couldn't place a finger on why, but the thought of kissing him felt dirty.

He leaned closer and she automatically closed her eyes.

He was a hairsbreadth away when she realized the cause of her discomfort. She jumped back and opened her eyes wide. Her face flushed and she placed a hand on the side of her head in her flustered state. It looked almost comical. She glanced back to Peter who seemed to be finding her sudden action amusing and not frustrating, which was a relief.

Peter crossed his arms.

"What's the matter, bird? Afraid I'll trap you for good this time? You just admitted that you'll always be mine, so why fight it?"

That was a very good question and one she could write a college thesis on, but it was not even close to the real reason for her distress.

"No, Peter, look!" She gestured erratically to the tombstone behind her, sounding flustered. "We can't do this here. We just can't! There's no flirting and kissing on Bae's grave!"

"That's what this is about?"

"Don't brush off my feelings, Peter. I can't do this with you. Not here." She looked at the stone with Neal's name carved into it and frowned. "It's… wrong."

"Would you change your mind if I told you I could bring him back to life?"

Wendy whipped around.

"Explain."

Peter smirked, and slowly took a step closer to her, enjoying having the power back. He knew if he waited long enough, she would start begging for an answer. The thought was tempting, but Wendy's fierce look made him think twice.

"It's all part of the plan, darling."

"What plan?"

"My plan to get what I want." Peter answered, and as a cloud passed in front of the moon, Wendy was reminded why Hook called him a demon. "There's a hat here in Storybrooke that collects magic. It holds more power than the Dark One. I'm going to get it and I'm going to use it to become king. I was going to use it to bring back Felix, as well. I could do the same with Baelfire."

The cloud disappeared and suddenly Peter was bathed in pale moonlight. Wendy's breath hitched and she wished she hadn't stepped away from his kiss.

"You would do that?" She whispered, heart pounding and mouth dry.

The wind blew and brushed Peter's fringe across his forehead. He tilted his head and arched his eyebrows, thinking and calculating. He reached his answer when he nodded his head and answered, "I like Baelfire. He always knew how to have a little fun."

In that moment, Wendy didn't care that Peter's sense of fun was vastly different to hers, she didn't care that there was probably some catch that would ruin her life for the next 100 years, and she definitely didn't care that Baelfire and her brothers would be disappointed with her. All she knew was that Peter promised her the one thing everyone else had given up on. He promised her Bae.

She launched herself forward, closing her eyes and slamming against his body with all the strength she could muster. She squished her lips to his with such force he stumbled backward two steps, surprised by her vigor, but wrapped an arm around her back to hold her close.

Peter quickly took control. She wasn't surprised. He liked to dominate things, especially her, and he used any means necessary to do it. His lips manipulated hers, pushing, sucking, licking. He pushed forward and his tongue ran across her lips again and again until she opened them with a gasp for breath.

Her hands moved over his robe, feeling the pied patches and his firm body underneath. They trailed up to his neck and to the ends of his hair where her fingers quickly entangled in the soft strands. She gave a tug and Peter let out a low growl.

Not one to be outdone, Peter's hands lowered to her hips and traced the edge of her corset and skirt. He stuck a two fingers under her top and ran them along her skin to her back where he found the dimples resting above her hips. His other hand played near her front, dipping into her skirt to brush sensitive skin and then back out again, teasing her in a way he'd done a thousand times before, but still had the same effect. She shivered.

She could feel him smirk against her lips, and she hated it, but, god, it turned her on. Did that make her pathetic? Or just a fool for his touch? It'd been so long, since before Henry came to Neverland, and she was going to enjoy this. That's what Halloween is about, right? It's a night for enjoyment and bad choices that lead to happy endings.

He pushed her back, trying to consume her, but her feet hit something hard and she lost her balance. Together they tumbled over, landing in the dew covered grass roughly. Wendy broke off with a gasp. She rolled a few inches before the wet grass made her freeze. A wind blew and her skin broke out in goose bumps.

She made a sound of discomfort and Peter laughed next to her. She stared at him, laying flat in the wet grass, patterned robe splayed wide, next to the short headstone she tripped over, and thought he never looked more handsome. It looked like he'd been thoroughly kissed, cheeks flushed and lips red, and she was sure she looked the same.

"All right, bird?"

"Freezing in this fancy dress, and a bit shocked at the fact that we were making out in a graveyard–god, what if we were seen!–but I'll survive. And you?"

"I think the fall wounded me," he said lightly. Wendy allowed herself a moment of worry before she registered the playful gleam in his eye. "Right here." He pointed to the corner of his mouth which was twisting in an awful grin.

If that's how he wanted to play, then so be it. Wendy still had a few more hours before reality came riding back on the winds of November.

"Oh, dear," she murmured and rolled the short distance over him, so she kneeled with one knee on either side of him and gazed down at his grinning mouth.

Wendy was haloed in moonlight and surrounded by stars. She was all he could see. Her eyes shined with desire and the gears turned in her head, then she smiled. Peter always liked this side of Wendy best, the cunning and playful side. It was far better than her morally upright and tedious side.

"That looks awfully painful."

"It is," Peter agreed. "There's only one way to fix it."

"That is?"

"You'll have to kiss it better."

Wendy, always the caretaker, happily obliged.

She pressed her body as close to his as she could manage, trying in futile to merge them into one, and gently placed her lips just off the side of his mouth, her hands fisting in his robes. Peter placed one hand on her back and the other in her hair as she peppered his face with little kisses. She moved across his cheek and down his neck, pecking and licking. His hands moved to play with the ties to her corset, tugging the apart and loosening her costume.

He smelled like Neverland, she realized. Like the trees and the dirt and the rain and the smoke from the campfire. His skin tasted like the salty Neverland Seas. His hair tickled her forehead as she trailed kissed along his skin. Everything about him reminded her of the home she had for the past 100 years.

Didn't he always say the he and the island were connected?

Letting her feelings overwhelm her, she gave a firm twist to her hips.

"Wendy."

Peter surged forward like a rising wave and suddenly she laid beneath him with one of his hands up her loose corset. She could feel the damp grass seeping into her skin and she gasped.

Peter was much more vicious in his ministrations than Wendy. His hands were everywhere, touching and scratching and making her twitch. One finger traced the outline of her bra while another slipped under it. His body rocked against hers as he held her close. His mouth attacked her neck, nipping and sucking on her smooth skin. He would nuzzle her, then bite her, and it was all so fast, so exciting, and so exactly like Peter. Her head fell back and her mouth flopped open to try and gather as much air in her lungs before Peter sucked it all out.

All she could see were the stars above her and all she could feel was Peter, Peter everywhere.

He moved to the other side of her neck, leaving behind a wet saliva trail that caught the cold air and made her neck burst with goose bumps to match the ones on her legs. He bit her at the intersection of her neck and shoulder, then placed a sweet kiss on top.

Wendy's hands moved to run through his hair. She pulled his head closer and moaned his name.

Somewhere in the back of her brain, a voice that sounded awfully like John's told her she shouldn't be doing this, especially in a cemetery. Peter wasn't a good boy, she knew that, she lived that, but she wasn't always a good girl. Sometimes she broke the rules, and who better to break the rules with her than the boy-king himself.

One more twist of the hips and she was buzzing.

She was quickly approaching the point of no return, and she knew that if she didn't stop now, she wouldn't stop at all.

But she didn't want to stop.

Not tonight. It was Halloween! People were in costume, there were skeleton decorations on houses, jack-o-lanterns all over town, and children screaming for candy. It was a night of fun, and this was a lot of fun.

Peter Pan would be her downfall. She knew it, Tink knew it, even her brothers knew it. The only saving grace was that she was Peter's, too. And, somehow, that made this all worth it.

A/N sorry for ending it there, but I couldn't in good conscious let them go any farther next to Bae's grave. Maybe I'm too much like Wendy, but that seems wrong.

Tell me what you think!