rosa_cotton | Peter Pan fanfiction

Title: Snowball Fight, Snowball Flight
Rating: G (K)
Disclaimer: Peter Pan, all characters, places, and related terms belong to J.M. Barrie.
Summary: The Darlings introduce Peter and the Lost Boys to the sport and “art” of snowball fights. Chapter One.

~~~

Chapter One

It is unusually quiet in the house under the ground. Supper has long been over. The boys play marbles in one corner. Peter lounges on his bed, lazily tracing patterns on the wall with one finger. Wendy slowly rocks herself in her rocking chair, her eyes half closed.

“It has started snowing,” Tootles says softly, stepping into the house from his tree, and makes his way to his comrades.

“Does it snow a lot here in Neverland?” John asks.

Tootles shrugs, uncertain.

Michael beams with delight. “I hope there will be a lot of snow to play in tomorrow!” he exclaims.

The Lost Boys all look at him with puzzlement. “You play in snow?” Curly asks wonderingly.

“Of course!” Michael says, returning the others’ amazed stare. “Don’t you?” he asks them.

“How do you play with snow?” says Slightly. “It’s wet and cold; makes our feet freeze. The only thing you can do with it is trample through it. What fun is that?”

Michael and John gaze at their friends, their mouths wide open. John gathers his wits first. “Why, there are many ways to play in the snow! You can make snow angels, build snowmen, create a fortress, have a snowball fight… We have a jolly time playing in the snow,” he answers.

The Lost Boys’ eyes sparkle, awed by this revelation.

“Can you truly do those things in the snow?” Nibs questions.

“Yes, if there is enough snow. You need lots and lots and lots of snow to make a fort,” Michael explains.

A rosy glow lights the boys’ faces, delight and excitement bubbling up inside their chests. “Ooooh!” they breathe in one voice. “How fun!”

“Will you play with us in the snow, Father, Mother?” one of the twins asks.

“I do not think so,” Wendy replies, looking at the boys’ hopeful faces. “There is a lot of work I want to do tomorrow, and I doubt I shall have time to go outside.”

The boys all immediately try to convince her she can spare a few minutes playing in the snow and still get most, if not all, her work done. She remains uncertain when Peter, who has been listening and watching everything with deep interest, finally speaks:

“The boys and I would be mighty pleased if you come out and play at least a little while with us. You can help teach the lads some games. It will not be the same if you do not come,” he ends.

Wendy’s gaze moves between the boys and Peter, all waiting with anticipation-filled faces for her decision. She sighs.

“If it will truly please you, Father, and the boys, I will come.”

The boys cheer and hug her, thanking her from the bottom of their hearts.

“But you all must wear your bearskin coats, shirts, pants, scarves, and mittens so you don’t catch your death of cold,” Wendy states her one condition firmly.

“And you shall wear your bearskin coat,” Peter says over the boys’ affirming to meet Mother’s order. “It would not do for you to catch cold.”

Wendy meets his serious eyes, simply nods, and blushes a little. Tearing her gaze from Peter’s, she jumps to her feet and instructs the excited boys to get ready for bed. That night the house remains full of bubbling excitement.

~~~

The next afternoon, Wendy lays aside her work and comes above ground. For a long moment she stands still, awed by the lovely sight surrounding her. The Neverland has been transformed into a winter wonderland. Pure white snow blankets the ground and nestles on the bare tree branches. Joy fills the girl. She spins around once, laughter escaping her lips, and then takes off through the jungle.

When she finds the boys and Peter playing in a nearby clearing, she discovers them to be in the midst of a fierce snowball fight. As far as she can tell, there are no teams in this game -- only every boy for himself.

Suddenly feeling a bit mischievous, Wendy makes a snowball and uses the trees to shield her from sight as she creeps closer to the boys. Coming to a halt behind one large tree trunk, she watches the battle rage on before her. One by one she identifies the boys participating, their faces full of excitement and determination. Wendy is astonished as she realizes the boy standing a little ways before her, watching the others, is Peter. His fists are placed on his hips, and his head is tilted to one side. The girl cannot even begin to guess how he got himself out of playing and just being a bystander. Well, this will not do!

Swiftly Wendy runs out from her hiding place and, stopping a few feet from the unaware Peter, throws her snowball. It makes contact with the back of his head. The boy jumps and squeaks, his hand flying to his head to brush away the cold snow. Just as he turns around, another snowball hits him right in the face. As he wipes the snow away, he becomes aware of someone laughing nearby. When his vision clears, Peter’s eyes light on Wendy nearly bent over laughing. For a moment he gapes at her. She hit him with the snowballs! She -- sweet, caring, innocent, little Wendy! He would have never guessed…

The third snowball plasters itself on his bearskin coat. Peter stares blankly at it for a moment. When he raises his head, Wendy has already taken off running, laughing still.

“Wendy!” he bellows, grinning, and gives chase.

She has a considerable lead on him as she zigzags across the clearing, occasionally looking over her shoulder to see how far behind he is. But Peter’s longer legs steadily allow him to slowly catch up to her.

Lunging forward, he tackles Wendy, who shrieks in surprise. They roll around several times before coming to a halt, with both children lying in the snow, breathing heavily. After remaining motionless for several moments, Peter glances at the silent girl beside him, and a light frown covers his brow.

“Wendy, are you dead?” he asks.

The girl giggles, “Not yet.”

“Good!” Peter sits up and leans over her. “Then I can still kill you,” he says seriously.

Wendy’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Why will you do that?”

“For ambushing me with those three snowballs.”

“I just thought that as the boys’ father, you should take part in their playing. They did ask you last night.”

“A father does not take part in snowball fights.”

“Yet he may attack the boys’ mother? What a gentleman!” Wendy laughs.

Peter gives her a mock stern look. “You deserved it.”

“Indeed.” Lifting one brow, she brushes some snow off the boy’s forehead. “And how shall you kill me?” A smile tugs on the corners of her mouth.

The boy is silent, thinking. “I may hug you until all the air escapes from you. Or… You’re cold.” Peter frowns as he at last sees what he missed before. “You promised to wear your coat.”

Wendy realizes she has indeed forgotten her coat and is starting to shiver from lying in the snow for so long. “I forgot,” she murmurs softly. She looks up in time to see Peter lean back and climb to his feet. He removes his coat and holds it out to her. Wendy glances at it and then at Peter with incomprehension.

“Put this on so you won’t catch cold,” he says for explanation.

Wendy stands with some difficulty and thankfully puts the coat on, shivering again as she buttons it. “Thank you, Peter.”

The boy nods once, an expression on his face she is unable to give a name to. Gently, he brushes some damp hair from her forehead. The two stare at each other.

The spell is broken when the boys call to them to help them build a snowman. Turning her attention to the sky, Wendy realizes more time has passed than she expected.

“I should go and start supper,” Wendy says, meeting Peter’s eyes.

Disappointment fills his face. “The boys will be sorry you have to go. Can you not stay out just a little longer and help with the…snowman?” he asks.

Wendy wavers for a moment and then shakes her head. “No, I should start on the meal. But you will help the boys, won’t you? For my sake?”

“If you wish it,” Peter complies, nodding once, his face still downcast.

“Thank you.” Wendy graces him with a smile. She reaches to undo the top button on the coat. Peter steps closer and places his hand on top of hers, his eyes already on her face when she looks up.

“Don’t,” he says softly. “You are a bit wet. Wear it so you do not get too cold walking back.”

As though to confirm his words, a wind blows across the clearing, heralding of the cold evening that is fast approaching.

A frown of worry crosses Wendy’s face. “But surely you will get cold…” She tries to unclasp the button, but Peter presses her hands, stopping their movement.

“I’ll be fine,” he assures her.

Wendy nods in acceptance and steps back. Peter’s hand falls back to his side. His eyes remain locked with hers, unmindful of Nibs’s approach. Wendy turns and starts back for the house, leaving Peter to help the boys. But her worry does not disappear, as she ponders on what had caused Peter to be so downcast, with no smile or twinkle in his eyes.

Shaking her head to clear away such worries for the time, she turns her thoughts to preparing a nice hot meal tonight for her boys.