~Being a Father~

Honestly, Peter didn't know how Wendy did it. She could clean the clubhouse, sew shut holes that the boys (and he himself) ripped into their clothes, prepare food the children and himself, and tuck everyone into bed without breaking a sweat or letting her signature smile drop from her face. Even more so, she made taking care of Jane look so easy.

Jane sometimes cries in the middle of night, disturbing everyone. Instead of getting upset, Wendy gets up with a tired sigh and smile to tend to Jane's needs. Sometimes, when Peter couldn't fall back to sleep, he would watch Wendy rock and sing softly to Jane in the rocking chair that the Big Red Man gave to them as a gift until their little girl was back asleep. Then Wendy would just set the snoring baby back into her crib, crawl back into the hammock, curl back into his side, and fall back to sleep. She never complained about it in the morning or anytime after.

Peter always feels a little bit bad when that happens. He knows that just because Wendy is Jane's mother doesn't mean she should be taking care of Jane when she cries at night, or even all the time when she's not crying. Peter should be helping taking care of Jane too. But (as much as Peter hated to admit it), he was scared. He never had any previous experience- whatever that means- before meeting Wendy and becoming a father to a baby. He didn't know what to do and was scared that he would mess up really, really badly.

The boy dressed in green, and occasionally in red, was starting to notice, though, that black circles were starting to appear under Wendy's bright blue eyes and wasn't moving as fast as she usually did before she brought Jane and Nana to Neverland. Peter was a smart boy, maybe not as much as the boys who go to school where Wendy, John, and Michael came from, but he was smart enough to know that it was the lack of sleep because Jane was getting fussier and fussier at night so Wendy was getting up more and more. Peter didn't want to think about what could happen if things kept getting worse.

So the next night when Jane started to whimper, the beginning stage of her crying, Peter uncurled himself from Wendy and the warm animal fur blankets, flew towards the baby's crib, and picked up the little girl. He started to rock the sniffing Jane back and forward, whispering softly to her, "It's ok. Everything is ok, Jane. There's no reason to cry."

The baby girl's sniffs and whimpers eventually stopped. Peter let out a breath that he didn't realized that he was holding and brought up a hand to gently run his fingers down his little girl's cheek. Jane giggled and muttered, her voice laced with that accent that all the babies Peter have heard seemed to have, "Papa…" The boy tilted his head to the side and smiled softly. He placed the sleeping Jane back into her crib and kissed her forehead softly as he rearranged the blankets around her.

"Goodnight Jane."

Peter slid back into his spot behind Wendy and rewrapped his arm around her waist, just as Wendy whispered, "Peter?"

"Yes, Wendy?"

"Good job."

"You just saw what happened?"

"Yes, just as much as when you watch me take care of Jane. And yes, I have known for awhile."

Peter leaned over Wendy's shoulder and the mother turned her head to watch tiredly but happily as a small blush bloomed across Peter's cheeks. "How did you find out?"

Wendy chuckled and kissed Peter's nose as she muttered, "Peter, I'm your wife. You are always watching me. Now, go back sleep." Peter smiled and tighten his hold around Wendy just as his eyes slid shut.

"Love you, Wendy."

"I love you too, Peter."