Disclaimer: I don't own any Peter Pan characters.

Note: This story contains elements of a fairytale, but don't expect Disney. It has language, violence, and graphic depictions of sex. If you can't handle any of this, don't read it. If it gets taken down I'll post the story elsewhere. On a separate note, I haven't seen any of the new Tinker Bell movies and I don't plan to. The Tink in this story is closer to her personality in the book. Everything else comes from me.

Chapter One

"No, no, no," Tinker Bell shouted and ripped the hat from her head. She turned and stepped down from the tiny fitting area of Mrs Bugby's Fashion Fairy Boudoir. "I don't know why I even bother with this place anymore."

Mrs Bugby stood off to the side looking bored. She was an older fairy about the shape of a tea pot with wads of curly grey hair piled on top of her head. A shop owner who hadn't been around as long as she had would have balked at the behavior of this snooty blonde fairy who had whisked in over an hour ago seeking to purchase an entire new wardrobe. However, Mrs Bugby had known Tinker Bell for years and had long since gotten over the little fairy's behavior. Tink wasn't like other pixie girls, that much was certain.

"What about that one there," Mrs Bugby said and pointed to a wide-brimmed purple hat hanging from one of the hooks in the wall. Tink took one look at the hat and turned up her nose, which was just such the perfect shape for being turned up.

"Purple's not my color, thank you. I guess I'll just take those and be on my way." She pointed to the outfits she had already picked out that laid in a heap on the checkout counter. Mrs Bugby fluttered over to the counter and began to tally up the total.

"That'll be thirty gold, please."

Tinker Bell rummaged through her bag for the sum and dropped the coins onto the table. Mrs Bugby shuffled the pile of purchases into two large bags made of bay leaves. Tink took the bags and bid her goodbyes, chin up and shoulders back.

Tinker Bell hated coming to the fairy village but there was nowhere else she could have gotten new clothes. She would have made them herself if she could have, but she wasn't nearly good enough at that sort of thing. She was a tinker, not a tailor. Her tools were fire, hammers, anvils, fullers and all other sorts of harsh, heavy things that did terrible things to her skin and hair. She didn't know how she'd ever come to be good at it. She hated getting dirty. However, if anyone had asked her if she was a tinker she would have replied "Only the best."

Long ago Tink had lived here in the village. That was before she'd met Peter. Peter had been just a baby at the time she and others had found him in Kensington Garden but she had loved him at once. When he had flown off to the Hangman's Tree to live, she had followed and been with him ever since. She knew the other pixies talked about her and made fun of her fondness for Peter. It was one the main things that made life in the village so unbearable. Even fluttering along as she was now she could feel the eyes on her, hear the whispers being passed back and forth. 'Look, there goes Tinker Bell. The pixie in love with a human.'

The truth was Tink didn't entirely understand her situation either. She knew better than anyone how Peter Pan broke her heart at least twelve times a day, and by the end of the day she had no choice but to forgive him. After all, he was just a boy.

The fairy village was situated in the very deepest part of the island's jungle. The trees in this part of the jungle grew large and close together, sometimes so close that the branches of different trees twisted and twined to make one large network. It was in such a twisted crossing of branches that the fairies had chosen to build their little shops and houses. Some of the fairies lived directly in the trunks of the trees. Others had built charming little wood houses out on the branches. The whole of the village was made up of about fifty-seven fairies, each one having their own special ability and job. All day, every day there were fairies going everywhere doing something. Busy busy busy making flowers bloom and gardens grow and seasons change and all that other distracting stuff that Tinker Bell just didn't have time for. What would happen to Peter if she kept as busy as other fairies? 'Sorry Peter, I can't help you escape from Hook right now. There's a spatula in urgent need of repair.' She shook her head at the thought.

The flight from the fairy village to Peter's tree wasn't a long one for a pixie. Tink made it back to the tree before sundown. She zipped down through the old hollowed branches and into the main living quarters. Of course the hideaway was an absolute wreck. From the arrows and tomahawks sticking in the wall it looked like Peter had been battling with the Indians again. She didn't mind that but only wished he wouldn't do it inside.

Tink's own living area was a moderately sized hole carved into the wall. Originally the hole had been covered by a raccoon skin. Peter had killed and skinned the raccoon especially for Tink so she had treasured it dearly for a long time, despite its being a filthy raccoon skin. When the skin had gotten too old and dusty, Tink had taken it down and folded it carefully to tuck away. In its place now hung the fine white fur of a snow rabbit, much more appealing to Tink's taste.

The hole itself was simply that: just one room in which Tinker Bell had arranged all her things. She did not live like the fairies of the village. They slept on beds made of furs and whatever feathers they could find. Tink's bed was Italian walnut. The mattress was stuffed with tiny goose feathers and layered with sheets of fine silk. Across from the bed was the vanity: French giltwood carved in a decorative rococo style. The mirror was large and oval and the drawers had been carved with intricate filigree. Directly beside this vanity was a floor length mirror, also giltwood with tiny blue birds carved at the top corners. At the back of the room was a silk screen, behind which was the rack where Tinker Bell kept her outfits. Tink fluttered to this rack and began placing her newest purchases.

It was amazing, Tinker Bell thought, how quickly she managed to go through her outfits. Traveling around with Peter was rough business most of the time but it did have its perks. For one, it was through Peter that she managed to get all of this furniture into her room. He had carried it all the way from London. And when she decided to get rid of things, he was the one to toss them out.

She hung the last of the outfits and stepped back to look at the new collection. Off to the right of the rack were her standard green dresses. Simple, but durable and ultimately expendable. That was why she had five of them. Next to the green dresses were the satin thigh-length slips she wore at night. Next to those were the prettier outfits that, she ruefully admitted, she didn't get to wear very often. And when she did wear them, there hardly seemed to be a point. Peter never seemed to notice or care what she wore. She could fly around naked and he wouldn't think anything of it. The last time she had dressed nice had been over a month ago when Peter had been invited to eat dinner on the ship of some traveling merchants. The merchants had all complimented her on the light blue evening dress. Peter had only laughed and called her silly.

Tinker Bell sighed and rested her chin in her hand. Despite Peter's behavior, that had been a very nice evening. The food and drinks had been wonderful and the merchants had made promises to come back with some items that Tink might be interested in. It was so hard to find pixie-sized accoutrements. The dealer in London was the only one she knew of.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash outside.

"Tink! Are you here, Tink?"

Peter.

Tinker Bell frowned and shook her head. She zipped out to the high center of the room and looked down. There was Peter, filthy as usual, dressed in a chain mail vest and holding a sword and shield.

When Peter spotted Tink he smiled wide as though nothing in the world were wrong. In his world, there never was anything wrong. Not for real, anyways. "There you are Tink. Where have you been all day? You missed the King and Queen of Overdale."

Peter Pan would have been perhaps about nine or ten years old. When he chose to wear clothes it was only the bare minimum, usually a loin cloth made of an animal skin. He spent his days with mermaids and pirates and dinosaurs and Indians and gypsies and (apparently) Kings and Queens. All of this and he was just a boy.

"I haven't been gone all day," Tink hollared. "I only left a couple hours ago. Just a couple hours and then I come back and this place is a wreck! I have to live here too ya know, and I'm not going to live in a pig sty. It's not right for you to trash this place and then expect someone else to clean it up."

Peter smirked and swatted his sword playfully at the pixie. "Aw, Tink. You know that's not how I am. I don't expect anyone to clean it up." He tossed the sword and shield in a corner and bent over to shrug the chain mail over his head. "I'll clean it up later. I'm getting hungry."

Tink flew over and grabbed the boy by his ear and yanked hard. She shouted "You'll clean it up now! And when you're finished I want you to go down to the river and clean yourself up too. You haven't had a bath in a week and I'm tired of smelling you."

"Tink!" Peter whirled away and waved his arms at the belligerent fairy. Tinker Bell flew around his head, pulling his hair and pinching his arms. "Alright, alright," he shouted at last.

Tink circled back in front of Peter's nose with her arms crossed. She leaned in and glared at him, then returned to her room.

Peter made a face and rubbed his arm where Tink had pinched it. Damn stupid fairy. But she was the thing he loved most in this world. He looked around the room and set about straightening things up a bit. He shouldn't have had to clean. Hadn't there been some other boys around here at some point? He vaguely remembered.

Every night before bed, Tinker Bell packed her toiletry items into her purse and flew down to the river that marked the halfway point between Peter's hideout and the fairy village. It was the same river that other fairies used when they washed themselves, but Tink went out of her way to use a different section of it.

She had her own little nook hidden in the crevice of a large, broken boulder. The crevice was V-shaped and dipped into the current just enough to be used as a bathing pool. At the side of this pool, Tink set down her purse and disrobed. With her soap and cloth in hand she waded down into the pool and set about getting herself clean.

To Tinker Bell, bathing was a meticulous ritual and her favorite part of the day. First she lathered her hair with her own special mixture of herbs and oils. She then piled the hair on top of her head and clipped it there out of the way while she washed the rest of herself. On her face she used a variety of soaps and extracts. Her skin was fair and prone to burning, so she had churned together a special soap that contained a generous amount of aloe and vitamin E. She exfoliated with a dry sponge first, then wet the sponge and washed off. She repeated this three times before moving on to her finger and toe nails.

As she cleaned, she admired her reflection in the water. She had such a pretty face, and a figure she openly prided herself on. Other female pixies shook their heads at the way she dressed but Tink didn't care. It wasn't like she hadn't worked for her figure. She was the world's tiniest masterpiece and she deserved to be admired.

Tinker Bell sighed and unclipped her hair to rinse it. She did have her admirers, but none of them mattered. They were all silly pixie boys and (if she was going to be honest about it) she was way out of their league. She was happily in love with Peter, and if Peter had the capacity to love anything beyond himself to any great extent, she knew he would love her too. In his own way Peter did love her. He made her things and looked for her when she wasn't around. For a boy as narrow minded and self centered as Peter these were extreme emotional accomplishments, and ones that Tinker Bell wore as personal badges on her shoulder.