Disclaimer: Peter Pan, all characters, places, and related terms belong to J.M. Barrie.

Author's Note: It is that time of the year again. This likely is my last story until August. Have a great summer everyone!

Dedicated: For rolletti.

Small but Great

The day of Peter Pan's (the Great White Feather) birthday has ended.

In the morning there had been a visit to the lagoon where Peter swam with the mermaids in their underwater homes and told the others (all a bit jealous) of the mother of pearl and wondrous shells he'd seen. After that, he had visited the fairy court. Then there had been a hunt with Indians in the jungle. His special day ended with a large celebration at the village, where he had received many gifts befitting his new position as a chief.

He is currently surrounded by his gifts in the house under the ground. It is surprisingly hushed. Despite the excitement of the day, and the boys' protests, Wendy had gotten them all into bed shortly after their return; within five minutes they were fast asleep, worn out by all the excitement. Now she is attempting to find places for Peter's things.

A cocky smile crosses the boy's face as he gazes at them. He had overheard Slightly complain to John that he had not gotten as many presents on his birthday. Peter had bragged that it was because he was chief and captain that he was given so many. Now the boy admires them once more. There is the Indian outfit from Tiger Lily, the designs woven with many colored beads. Here is the large Indian headdress with eagle feathers given by her father. Over there in that pouch is the fairies' gift of several precious stones. And then there are the many dream catchers, bows and arrows, animal skins, and games from the Indians.

And yet… His gaze traveling over the gifts again, the boy's smile diminishes. The unfamiliar feelings of puzzlement and hurt he had pushed away during the celebration earlier now return and grow. The pleasure he had felt regarding his birthday disappears.

Wendy has not given him a present.

Peter was presented with his gifts after the feast ended at the village – a long ceremony. Tiger Lily had sat on his right; Wendy had originally planned to sit with the boys but after a few moments' arguing had given into Peter's wishes and sat with him and Tiger Lily.

While he was caught up in his gifts, and Tiger Lily sharing his enthusiasm, Peter did not forget Wendy and showed her each one. She admired them all, though not as excitedly as he did, and constantly reminded him to thank the giver.

Tiger Lily and her father presented their gifts last: an Indian outfit and headdress. Peter had risen into the air with a loud, joyful crow. A huge cocky grin was on his face when he slowly returned to earth.

The Chief clapped his hands and called for the dancing to begin. Tiger Lily had grasped Peter by the hand, insistent he dance with her. It was not until his third dance with the Indian princess that he realized Wendy had not given him a gift. Whirling around the leaping fire, the boy caught a glimpse of her seated where he had left her, touching the feathers on his headdress.

The rest of the celebration passed without Peter receiving a present from Wendy.

A strange, heavy weight settles in the boy's stomach and he bites his lower lip, his eyes traveling over the Indian headdress. Wendy has given presents to the other boys on their birthdays. Why not him?

"Peter!" Wendy's quiet exclamation interrupts his thoughts.

He finds her gazing at him, puzzled, concerned, from the other side of the sea of gifts. She tilts her head slightly.

"Why are you crying, Peter?"

Only then is he aware that his cheeks are wet, a rare thing. Swiftly he brushes his face with the back of his hands. "I wasn't crying," he quickly denies, unsuccessfully trying to sound offended.

"Oh," is all she says in reply.

Wendy's gaze falls away from Peter's, and the weight in his stomach grows heavier. He watches her hang a dream catcher on a root. Next she reaches for a bearskin, her movements clumsy from its heavy weight.

"Do you not like me anymore?" the fearful question bursts out of the boy. He gazes at Wendy anxiously.

She gives him a double-take, dropping the bearskin. "Of course I like you, Peter!"

His voice lowers, "But…you did not give me a present."

The girl's face falls, and she sinks to the floor. "No, Peter…" she trails off.

Peter's throat goes dry, and he lowers his head to hide his hurt.

"I am sorry. I did not have anything fitting to give the Great White Feather. Nothing compared to all this." She waves her hand.

Both children gaze at the large ocean of presents between them.

"You swim with the mermaids, visit the fairy court, are an honorary chief and special friend of Tiger Lily. You have been given more presents than there is room for them here. There is nothing I can give you that would be as special. You have everything," Wendy ends sadly.

Peter's eyes widen in surprised concern as she quickly brushes her hand over her eyes. In one swift moment he flies across the room to her side, his hurt left behind.

"But you are wrong Wendy," he protests softly, leaning against her shoulder a bit. "There is one thing I have not been given for my birthday."

"And what is that?"

"A thimble."

"Peter, Tiger Lily gave you one right before we left!" she reminds him.

The boy chuckles and waves his hand while shaking his head. "A thimble from you," he clarifies.

A short silence passes with the two staring at each other, she astonished, he hopeful.

Eventually Wendy finds her tongue, "Is that all?" She looks like she might laugh or cry, but does neither.

He nods simply.

"Very well."

Peter grins and grows still. He watches her rise slightly and turn her face towards his cheek. Before she thimbles him, a thought whispers in his ear again, and he brings his fingers up between them. He meets her puzzled gaze when she draws back.

"Not there," the boy says quietly. "Here." He brushes a corner of her mouth.

He watches her eyes widen and then soften. At her nod he unconsciously meets her halfway. This is nothing like Wendy or Tiger Lily giving him a thimble on the cheek. It is strange and nice. Wendy's mouth is soft and gentle against his, more than the feather of the Neverbird. Rainbows flash behind Peter's eyelids. He is not aware of Wendy pulling away until he hears her voice.

"Happy birthday, Peter."

The boy blinks his eyes. For a moment a glow seems to surround Wendy, and then it vanishes. He smiles slowly, cockily. "Thank you, Wendy."

The girl smiles in return, unexplainably causing his heartbeat to quicken, and climbs to her feet. As Peter watches her resume her task, he rests his chin on his fist. His smile widens.

He decides he liked the thimble, very much. Perhaps Wendy will give him another one for his birthday tomorrow.

THE END