Hiya, Koki-chan here! Now this is my first Peter pan fic, I've been a huge fan of The Boy Who Never Grew Up since I was a tiny tot. Now, I am aware that in the book Peter Pan has blond hair, but I loved the idea of Disney's version with the red hair. So, I stuck with the red, since it was the Disney version that stole my heart (But it was the book that kept it! XD)! Makes my story a little different, ne? I'm gonna be throwing some things from the movies and the book in, so I hope you don't mind! It's just so hard to choose between them! XD I hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Peter Pan, or Tinker Bell, they were created by J.M Barrie and the copyrights were left to a children's hospital. I do, however, own Melody Cahill!

I squirted a dab of toothpaste on my toothbrush, bringing it up to my mouth, I began to brush my teeth. I yawned, my toothbrush dangling out of the corner of my mouth, another tedious day finally over. I had started high school just a few months ago, and already I was tired of it. No one really interested me, all of them seemed to have grown up so fast, none of them were able to enjoy the simple things of childhood anymore, all too caught up in that 'MTV' junk. If growing up meant dressing up each day in less clothing than the average swimsuit and making out with some random guy out in the open, than I would rather stay a kid. The fact that I was still clinging to my childhood not only annoyed my peers, but it also enraged my mother. Responsibility was what she wanted me to have, but I did not want it. Although, if I was more responsible, I probably would not have gone through two copies of one book at the age of fourteen. I never want to grow up. The mere thought of it makes my blood run cold.

Okay, maybe I'm getting a little too dramatic, but you get the idea. I sighed as I let my eyes drift to my most prized possession: my third copy of Peter Pan. The two copies before it were worn to the point that I could no longer make out the words. But of course, being the sentimental person I am, those copies are stored safely in my bookcase. I finished up my bedtime rituals, changing into my flannel pajamas, another way for me to cling to my childhood. No tiny nighties for me!. I smiled, my fingers lightly grazing the cover. As a small child, I had often dreamed of Peter Pan flying in through my window and taking me to Neverland. Wouldn't that be wonderful? A place where all you do all day is have fun, no responsibilities weighing you down. I smirked, then I wouldn't have to deal with all those girls in their tiny skirts, and those guys in those muscle cars. I picked the book up, embracing it childishly. If only ... I made my way to the window, opening it a crack, making sure to leave it unlocked, another childish habit of mine.

I set the book down on my nightstand before diving under my duvet. I was tempted to ask my mother to read me a bedtime story, but that would only result in a lecture on growing up. Daddy would read one to me, but Mother would get mad if she found out. I settled on reading one to myself. I carefully opened my visibly worn third copy of Peter Pan, being extra cautious, for I did not have the money for a fourth copy at the moment. I quietly turned the pages to one of my favorite parts of the book, the big fight with Captain Hook. I mumbled he words aloud to myself until my eyelids became heavy. I gently placed my book on the nightstand next to my bed. I turned out the lights, closing my eyes as I drifted to sleep.

If only...

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My dreams were suddenly interrupted by a heavy feeling on my stomach, making breathing a little difficult. I tried wiggling around, too tired to open my eyes, but the weight remained. I slowly opened my eyes to see a boy. He was sitting on my stomach, staring at me, his face only inches away.

"You make funny faces in your sleep." he grinned.

I did the only logical thing I could think of. I screamed.

The boy, obviously startled, leaped off of my stomach and seemed to fly across the room.

"Melody?" my mother's voice drifted through the halls. "What happened? Are you alright?" she asked, worry evident in her voice.

I shot a glance at the intruder. He stood near my bookcase, ready to wedge himself between it and the wall. He gave me a pleading look.

I stared at him, my curiosity out-weighing my common sense. "Nothing, Mother. I just saw a spider." I called out, knowing my mother at least respected my privacy as she stood outside my closed door. "I killed it." I added.

"Go to bed." she sighed, I could tell she was rolling her eyes in annoyance.

I listened to her walk down the hall, not moving until I heard her bedroom door shut.

I looked over at the boy, "Coast's clear." I whispered.

He just about floated to my bed, a broad smile on his face. "Ah, the cleverness of me." he smiled, settling himself on my bed. He crossed one leg under him, the other dangling off the side of the bed.

"Yeah, I sure didn't do anything." I muttered, annoyed.

"Well, you helped a little, I guess."

That sure sounds familiar. I rolled my eyes, then I stared at him, trying to fully comprehend what was going on. The boy before me looked to be my age, probably an inch or two taller. He had a thin, but muscular frame. His hair was an indistinguishable shade between red and light brown, flecks of gold dancing throughout it. The length of it was long enough to hang in his eyes. Those aquamarine eyes held an exuberance, a playful look bursting with youthful whimsy. His clothes were another matter. They seemed to be made of leaves, save a pair of green tights and leathery shoes. The final touch that confirmed my hopes, a green cap sat atop his head, a red feather poking out of it. My heart began to thump wildly, "Peter." I whispered. "Peter ... Pan." I said, my voice growing louder. "Peter Pan!" I said, a silly grin plastered on my face.

"Shhh!" the boy clamped a hand over my mouth. Just then I heard a toilet flush, someone, most likely my brother, shuffling down the hall and past my room before retiring to his own.

My heart thumped harder, "You are, aren't you?" I breathed.

"Yup, the one and only." he smiled proudly.

I had a jack-hammer in my chest by now. My hero was sitting before me, a smile on his face. I took my thumb and forefinger and pinched the back of my other hand. "Ow!" I mumbled. So I wasn't dreaming.

"What did you do that for?" Peter asked. He then shook his head, "Girls are weird."

I looked up at him, now that the first wave of excitement had passed, a new wave of skepticism moved in. I stared hard at him again, "So, how do know that you're the real Peter Pan?" I asked.

"Well, who else could I be?"

"Some weird guy in green tights." I stated matter-of-factly. "I mean, Peter Pan is supposed to never grow up, stay a kid, but you look like a teenager to me. That's quite a bit grown up if you ask me"

Peter shook his head, "Well I didn't ask you, I've always looked like this. I'm still a kid." he cried, uncertainty evident in his voice.

I crossed my arms across my chest, "Prove it."

Peter thought about it for a while, then flashed me a toothy grin, revealing a mouthful of baby teeth. "I've never lost a tooth. That enough proof for you?" he asked.

I blinked, trying to let everything sink in. Sitting here, on my bed, at about 2:00 a.m on a school night I might add, was a teenage boy with all of his baby teeth, claiming to be Peter Pan. The boy regained his cocky smile, taking my silence as confirmation that I believed him, which I was starting to. "One last question." I mumbled, holding up my index finger. "Why are you here?"

Peter blinked, "Oh, right." he turned his head and let out a low whistle. Responding to his call, a black figure flew in through my open window. "I saw it escape last night, so I came to return it to you." Peter stated, "I'm a pretty nice guy, huh?" he grinned.

I stared at the thing that had flown in. It was pitch black, only barely visible against the moonlight. It held the faint shape of a person.

"What is that?" I asked, staring at the strange being.

"Your shadow." Peter said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "You lost it. Didn't you notice?"

"My shadow?" I cried, jumping off of my bed to flick on the lights. I stood under the lamp, peeking behind me. Peter was right, I didn't have a shadow. I glanced over at him, a look of pure amusement on his face.

"That's right. Your shadow." he chuckled.

"I thought you were the one losing your shadow. I thought it was just a Peter thing." I said, thinking aloud.

Peter laughed, "You sure are weird." he turned to my shadow, signaling for it to come over to him. He grabbed the foot, I believe and held it out to me.

I stared at it, unsure of what to do next.

"You gotta reattach it." Peter informed me, sensing my confusion.

"Do I really have to sew it on?" I asked, recalling how he regained his shadow in the book.

"How else can you do it?" he asked.

I sighed, turning to my nightstand, opening a drawer, pulling out a needle and a spool of thread. I stared at the threaded needle uncomfortably. I did not like the idea of the needle going through the skin of my foot. I looked up at Peter, than down at my foot, the shadow of my foot pressed firmly against it.

Peter stared at it too, "C'mon. You can do it. Wendy made it look really easy." he mused.

I looked up at him, not liking the fact that he was comparing me to Wendy. I bit my lip as I moved the needle swiftly through my foot and the shadow, trying to get it done as soon as possible. I could tell that Peter was watching my exaggerated movements, a smirk on his face when he noticed the weird look on mine. I chewed on my lip more fervently, determined not to cry in front of Peter Pan. I smiled, I guess re-reading that book over and over again really had an effect on my behaivor. I finished, admiring my less-than-perfect attempt at sewing. I was never really good at those kind of things. I stood under the lamp once again, lifting my legs, and waving my arms. The shadow on the wall followed my movements. I grinned triumphantly.

I heard Peter snicker behind me. I whirled around to see him lying on my bed, stifled giggles erupting from his throat. "Girls sure are weird." he said for the second time tonight.

I could feel a deep red color filling my cheeks as I plopped down on the floor beside the bed. I looked up at him, "What else did you come here for?" I asked, "I'm sure you did not come here all the way from Neverland just to give my shadow back. I mean, how did you even find my shadow?"

Peter thought about it for a minute, "I came over here because I was looking for something." he stated.

"What?"

"I was looking for a mother for me and The Lost Boys." he pulled out his pan flute, quietly blowing into a few pipes. "You'll do."

Oh. So that's what it was. "Hate to break it to you, Pete." Ha, I've known my hero for only twenty minutes and I had the audacity to not only call him by his first name, but shorten it into a nickname . "But I'm not exactly the 'mother' type."

"But, your a girl. Aren't mothers supposed to be girls?" he asked, surprised.

"Well, technically ..." I mumbled.

"So you can be our mother."

I sighed. This was going to be harder than I thought. "You want someone to cook for you, clean up after you, mend your pockets and read you bedtime stories, right?" I asked.

"Yeah, that's what mothers do." Peter nodded.

"Well, I'm not exactly anyone's first pick for a mother. I can cook a little bit, but not very well, and you just saw how uncomfortable I am with a sewing needle." I kicked a clump of dirty clothes on my bedroom floor, "And if you look around, you can see I am not exactly a tidy housekeeper. I could probably tell you bedtime stories, but I can't guarantee you'll like them. I'd love to go with you to Neverland, but not as your mother. no sirree." I shook my head. "I'd help you cook, I'd help you clean up. I may even do a little sewing." I looked into his eyes, "A little sewing. I'll tell you a story or two, but I don't want to be your mother. I don't wanna be on some sort of pedestal." I then crawled into my bed, pulling the covers over my head, vaguely remembering Wendy doing something similar in the book. Silently hoping that it would have a similar effect.

"I always thought that girls were better then boys. I thought that one girl was of more use then twenty boys." when I did not respond, he pretended to leave. I did not move, hoping he would do the same thing he did with Wendy. Then I frowned at myself, realizing I didn't want to be Wendy 2 in his eyes. Nonetheless, I received the desired effect. "Okay, I'm sorry." Peter mumbled, defeated. He pulled the blanket from over my head. "You don't have to be our mother. But if you'll still help us out, I'll take you to Neverland." he mumbled.

I smiled, jumping out of bed. "Okay then."

"You can be ... my second in command. But you'll still have to listen to the Lost Boys on certain occasions, like in battles and hunting and stuff." he informed me. "What's your name, by the way?" he asked. He's been in my room, probably floated around outside of here for days, even asked me to be his mother, then his second in command, but had not even bothered to learn my name.

"Melody." I smiled, remembering how Peter disliked when Wendy gave him her full name, which was pretty long. Peter disliked the fact that his name sounded so short compared to Wendy's.

"Melody." he repeated, "That's easy." then he thought about it. "Melody what?"

I grinned, I had an idea as to what he was getting at. "Melody Cahill." Peter smiled, I was right. Maybe my name was longer than his, but it certainly was shorter than Wendy's.

"Give me a second." I mumbled, fumbling around in my closet for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, "I don't think sleepwear is proper attire for a second in command." I said, mostly to myself.

Peter shrugged, "Whatever."

I sneaked into the bathroom across the hall and changed, quickly running a brush through my dirty blond hair, noticing how ratty it looked right now. I sneaked back into my room, my pajamas in a bundle under my arms. I dumped them on the floor the moment my door was closed. What I wore was nothing special, a light blue t-shirt with a faded yellow star in the upper left-hand corner and a pair of run-of-the-mill dark blue jeans, a tear in the left knee from when I fell off of my bicycle. I pulled on a pair of red high-top converse. It didn't exactly match, but who cares?

"Ready?" Peter asked, already becoming impatient.

"Uh-huh. But wait." I looked around, "Where's Tinker Bell? I'll need fairy dust, won't I?" I asked, suddenly noticing the absence of my favorite fairy.

As if on cue, a bright ball of light came flying from out of my closet, where she must have been hiding before all this happened.

Peter snapped his fingers, Tinker Bell flew around me, dusting me with fairy dust.

"Now, think happy thoughts." Peter said.

I could have said those words already, all those years of reading his books had sunken in, but I decided to let him have his fun. The mere thought of flying through the air was enough to lift me off of the ground.

"Good." he took my hand and flew with me out the window, landing delicately on the roof of my house. He pointed up, my hand still in his.

"Second star to the right." I breathed, I couldn't let Peter say all of that neat stuff.

"And straight on 'til morning." he added.

I couldn't help it, I had the most idiotic grin on my face, unable to contain my emotions. Peter took off, pulling me along as I flew next to him, Tinker Bell flying near our heads. I sneaked a glance at her. She was just as pretty as the movies depicted her to be, a dazzling figure in the skeleton of a leaf. I really hope that she likes me more then she did Wendy.