Requested Prompt: "Can you write what it would look like if Lizzie and Peter were in Storybrooke?"
Rating: T
Disclaimer: This prompt turned out to be an AU of Red Rebellion (which is already an AU but it's okay shh)
Imagine Elizabeth being born and raised in Storybrooke. Imagine Peter Pan and his boys staying in Neverland after Henry was rescued in Season 3A. It takes twenty years of Storybrooke time for the hour glass in Neverland to run out, and when it does, Peter returns to Storybrooke where Elizabeth is a teenager.
This was the only way I could envision it. Also I changed James's name to Neal (same character as in Red Rebellion and Never Seas, just different names).
I got carried away with this, sorry.
Peter had suffered the final few years of immortality that Neverland could offer before the last grain of sand fell through the hour glass and his eternal kingdom turned to ash. Peter's allotted time had passed. The single particle that fell onto the glittering pile caused a deep crack to etch up the side of the glass and shatter the relic to pieces.
Peter was muted and denied authority while the island disintegrated; leaves flaked into ash, soil thinned into soot, water beds dried to dust. The shadowing overcast that once loomed over the island thinned to allow the merciless heat of a malevolent sun bake down onto the forests until the greenery caught fire and crisped to charcoal.
Peter was left with no other option than to resume his mortal life and surrender his island to die. Though this meant he lost much of his former strength, Peter had no intention of leaving his wicked ways behind in his withering kingdom of dust. It thus came as a surprise when he found life in Storybrooke agreeable to his tastes; the town was practically untarnished with wickedness and overdue for some turmoil. The quaint shore town and all of its residents offered him the perfect start to a new beginning of games.
As he was pleased to find the virginal lifestyle of Storybrooke ripe for his meddling, a greater shock came to the time span of his absence since last encountering Henry and the rest of his familial brigade. Nearly twenty years had passed and there were a few intriguing new additions that had come into Henry's growing family.
One of whom being Miss Elizabeth Mary Swan.
The battered Jeep Wrangler screeched out onto the center of the intersection downtown. With his knuckles wrapped tight on the wheel, Felix steered the car forward towards the four-way intersection of congested traffic with a twisted smirk. Sirens blared out behind the jeep close in pursuit. The five other lost boys in the back stood side-by-side, all gripping the roof bar of the Jeep to balance Felix's abrupt turns as they howled and crowed in delight. They were dressed as boys of this world, sporting combinations of plain button shirts, second-hand polos, denims and khakis; however, their primal behavior distinguished them as lost boys.
Following the Jeep was Storybrooke's single police cruiser. Emma leaned forward over the wheel as she glared furiously ahead. With both feet stretched forward, his left palm pressing against the airbag shoot while his right gripped the roof handle, David squirmed in the cracked leather passenger seat beside her.
Pedestrians cowered and dodged from the sidewalks as Felix shamelessly detoured over the curb to avoid being held up by the cars ahead. Granny's 'Specials' Sign for the diner smashed into pieces. White and yellow envelopes flew out in a disarray of directions as the Jeep plowed a metal mailbox off its hinges. The commotion of fear and infliction of public destruction seemed to fuel the boys' excitement further as they screamed louder with laughter.
David barely felt the buzz in his jean pocket as his cell phone rang soft under the cry of sirens. He reached in, still with his eyes trained on the mayhem ahead, and blindly answered. "Yeah, this is David - Emma watch the fire hydrant! - Sorry, who is this? Killian?" He yelled into the microphone, "We've still got the lost boys in front of us. What, you've found him?"
"Aye," Killian answered lowly. On the far side of town, he and Robin had staked out across the street from Tink's clothes boutique where he suspected his target would be most inclined to go. The lost boys never put on such a show if it did not somehow go to benefit their leader, as Killian well knew. He had spent enough time in Neverland to recognize a diversion when he saw one. Sure enough after not a half hour after the lost boys began their diverting tirade on the other side of town, Killian and Robin found the lone motorcycle they had gone searching for parked in the alleyway hidden in the shadow set between the two buildings.
The two men kept their eyes focused on the front entrance of the boutique, expecting to find their intended target making his leave out of the glass pane door to the shop. Though of course, considering who they were dealing with, it was never that simple.
Killian would have missed him if it wasn't for Robin's intuition to keep his eyes trained to the upper levels of the building. They had been waiting patiently for a half hour, staring straight to the shop's doors before Robin noticed the boy making his leave from the window on the side of the building.
Peter Pan.
The boy had kept his black motorcycle helmet on as a subtle device of disguise. The bottom hems of his dark-washed denim jeans were dusted in a fine coating of dust from the riding over the June pavement. His form-fitted forest green collar shirt stuck to his lean chest from the sweat that came from the sweltering heat. The helmet would have sufficed to disguise him, perhaps, if it weren't for the dark leather cuffs - the only remainder of his attire from his former realm - that were still tied around his wrists.
Killian kept David on the line as he observed the boy making his escape. The only sounds within the truck came from the muffled shouts and tire screeches of the car chase through the speaker of the pirate's mobile. "Killian, are you still there?" David's voice demanded out from the speaker. There were faint traces of Emma's cursing in the background of the white noise that followed.
Peter climbed down the rusted fire escape with ease. After hopping down from the last paint-chipped metal peg of the ladder, the boy returned to his motorcycle that was left standing by the dumpster. He nimbly swung his leg over the bike and restarted the engine. His back was kept turned from the men watching from afar. "He's not carrying anything. It appears that he's yet to find whatever it is that he is after," Killian noted softly into the speaker.
Robin's eyes snapped up from Killian's mobile back to the boy sitting stoically on the motorcycle in the alleyway. Peter had turned his motorcycle around to face them. The tinted glass visor of the boy's helmet was directed straight at them. "Turn it off," Robin whispered urgently to Killian. "He can't possibly hear us, can he?"
Killian could see Peter's head tilt ever so slightly to the side as he continued to stoically observe the two men's poor excuse of a hideout. He was very much aware of their presence - that much was certain when the motorcycle engine suddenly revved in threat. Killian's thumb slowly brushed over the red 'end call' option of his phone. "I think it would be wise to leave," he muttered calmly.
Robin did not react until the motorcycle beamer flashed on and the engine roared out with a harsh jerk of the gas. He scrambled for the truck keys and was able to turn the ignition just as Peter kicked off from the ground. "Go!" Killian shouted and reached over to unjam the parking brake. Robin slammed down on the gas, nearly rear-ending the parallel parked car in front of them as their tires screeched onto the road.
Killian avidly turned to see Peter steer onto the main road in close pursuit. Given the age and model of David's deteriorated pickup truck, it came as no surprise that Peter was quickly gaining on them. "Faster," Killian ordered. He could see a sharp glimmer flash against the sunlight - something short and silver gripped in Peter's hand - as the boy reared his bike closer to the back tire of the truck.
Elizabeth sat stoically at her confined metal school desk and rapped the blunt eraser of her pencil against the hard finished edge. Her stark blue eyes drifted out beyond the span of trees that rustled by the classroom window and followed the moving echoes of police sirens in another part of town. She curled her toes within her dark suede boots as a shiver of anxiety trembled down her back.
The classroom was silent with the exception of the soft chorus of scribbles that came from every desk other than Elizabeth's. Her single-sheet quiz remained untouched and nameless, as her mind refused to cooperate with any educational obligations with the ring of sirens echoing through the streets outside.
"Lizzie," Henry interjected at the front of the classroom. She lifted her chin from where it had been resting along her palm and looked up to her brother, who had taken a step away from where he was writing Project Presentations Continue Next Class on the whiteboard. Henry gave her an indifferent frown before nodding down to her untouched quiz.
She blinked down to futile single sheet of a grade. It was a small quiz, unassuming enough to not leave too large of a dent on her grade if she were to fail. She could at least leave a name, maybe a few beginner words to the first question so it wouldn't seem like such an insult to Henry's attempt at keeping the class preoccupied. It was obvious from the warmth of the paper and occasional misspelling that this quiz was hot off the copier. All of the teachers in Storybrooke High had to improvise to keep the students somehow distracted while they were on lockdown. The grade shouldn't count for anything, really, considering the fact that they should have been dismissed an hour and forty-five minutes ago.
The summer sun baked through the brick walls of the building to the extent that their poor ventilation system from the original 1980's Storybrooke curse did not suffice to keep the rooms cool. Sweat trickled down the roots of Elizabeth's fine golden hair as the back of her loose-fitting grey jersey shirt collected moisture. Students had given up on the formalities of keeping up their appearances as lockdown ran over the first hour.
They were now coming on their second hour of lockdown - the time was approaching 4:00pm - and tensions were flaring high with students and staff alike.
Suddenly a loud shriek of burning tires from the car chase broke through her contemplation. The entire class fell silent as all eyes were now fixed on the window. Even Henry, who at this point was trying anything to get his students' minds off whatever chaos was occurring in Storybrooke, sucked in an apprehensive breath.
When Henry turned back towards his desk, Elizabeth noticed the pool of sweat seeping into his once finely-pressed white collar undershirt beneath his tan blazer jacket. He reached out to the large leather-bound book that rested on the top of his desk and smoothed the crinkled edges. Even from where she sat across the room, Elizabeth could see her brother's eyes narrow down to the title of the book, Once Upon a Time. "Alright guys, time's almost up. Finish the last question you're working on and pass them forward," he announced coolly before leaning back into his chair. Elizabeth swallowed and peered back down to her empty test. She could scribble down a few half-ass comments that might earn her a few partial credit points, though even as little as that did not seem worth the trouble. Echoes of an air horn interrupted her process of thought, yet again. She flashed an annoyed glare over to the two empty seats closest to the door belonging to Peter and Felix.
The horns were followed by an excruciating shriek and crash of yet another part of town being shred up by the car chase. Elizabeth shot her hand up. "Henry," she gritted through her teeth. He didn't turn, though rather acknowledged her with a quick flick of his wrist to speak. "Excuse me, Mr. Mills."
"What's up, Lizzie?" He murmured softly down to the stack of papers he was assigning grades.
"Can I go outside to make a phone call?"
"Sorry," Henry peered up from his desk and gave her an unenthused smile. "Students can't go out into the halls during lockdown: school's policy, not mine."
"Then can I make the call in the classroom?" She perked her head with a biting grin meant to challenge his all-too steady composure. "Everyone's done with their quizzes."
"Everyone except you."
Elizabeth flinched back, her sea blue eyes widening in shock to Henry's uncharacteristically blunt firmness towards her. He paused again when an explosive boom sounded through the shut window. The entire class fell silent and exchanged glances between Elizabeth's steadfast glare and Henry's look of determination to uphold his authority. "Who do you need to call?"
"Mom." Her hands reached out and gripped the rounded edges of the desk. "We all deserve to know what's happening out there."
The class looked at Henry expectantly. Following another jab of uneasy silence, Henry leaned his back against the clean face of the white board. He shoved his sweating palms into the pant pockets of his trousers.
"I understand that you all might be feeling a little weary about being on lockdown. Storybrooke hasn't seen too much excitement in a while, I get it. But you should also know that if anything were to happen that was beyond the control of the police department, I'd be the first person the sheriff would call. Whatever is going on out there right now will be over soon. You can stop worrying."
Jack Whale, or as many of the students jokingly referred to as Jekyll, crossed his legs over his desk and raised his hand. "S'cuse me, sir, then that wouldn't be your phone that's been flashing with notifications for the past hour, would it?" Henry swallowed and felt down to his phone that was kept in his back pant pocket. The small green light flashed through the brown layer of his trousers visible for all the class to see. Sure enough as he pulled out the phone, which he had kept on silent, he found nine new text messages and an overwhelming count of missed calls.
"If it's information that you all want, I would think there's someone else Elizabeth should be calling for answers other than the sheriff," Adam Gold muttered loud enough for his peers to overhear. "Then again, what do I know?" The class erupted in a louder murmur of chuckles and Elizabeth could feel her cheeks heat from a rush of anger. She whipped around in her chair and glared at the Dark One's son sitting directly behind her.
Even after shedding his designer blue blazer to adjust to the heat, Adam beheld the very essence of stature compared to his rowdy teenage peers. He was dressed in his neatly tucked white collar shirt and fine pressed pants; not exactly the norm style in a high school filled with students of the peasantry class. On that particular morning, he had disregarded the threat of humidity and let his dark shaggy hair fall down naturally along his narrow blue eyes. A hardcover of the collected works of Hans Christian Anderson, as well as a leather bound collection of the Brothers' Grimm short stories were stacked on his desk beside his agenda and filled with thorough notes for his take home assignments.
He perked his brows to Elizabeth with a biting smirk, provoking her to retort with something witty as per usual. She would have done if it weren't for the intercom that buzzed to life in the corner of the classroom. Attention students, the voice of an older woman came through the wall speakers, The temporary lockdown placed on the school has been lifted. We advise all students and staff to proceed home or to a safe place of residence until further notice by the town authorities. Loitering outside on school grounds is prohibited. Due to the significant damage done to nearby public property and condition of roads, operation of motor vehicles for an extended period of time is not advised.
Elizabeth whipped out her phone on instinct, as did Henry and every other student fidgeting in their seats.
To: Mom Sent: 3:47pm Whats going on?
To: The Captain Sent: 3:48pm Is everything alright? Mom okay?
To: Peter Sent: 3:48pm You better have a damn good excuse for missing class…
"Alright guys, you're free to go." Upon Henry's announcement, the entire class stood and shuffled out the door in a rush to beat the crowds of other students forming in the hallway. Henry leaned on his toes to shout over the rise of commotion. "Hey everyone! Be safe and if possible, try to stay indoors until it's confirmed that everything's settled down."
Elizabeth sighed while lethargically shoving her tattered notebooks into the main pocket of her shoulder bag. While the rest of her peers rushed to vacate school grounds, she remained stuck in the classroom until Henry had all his bearings to drive them both home.
Adam calmly sorted his books back into his brown leather bag before he stood with his blazer in hand. "Pass on my regards and condolences to your mother next time you see her. She's no doubt had a trying day."
"There are a lot of things I'm sure my mother would like to hear after all this is over. Condolences for road damage wouldn't be one of them." Elizabeth crossed her arms.
"No of course not," He chuckled as he sauntered across the room to leave. "I meant for her daughter's poor taste in criminals, clearly."
Elizabeth's scathing glare followed him in trained silence. As much as it would have pleased her to bite back with a scornful remark, the topic of her relationship with Peter Pan was still too sensitive for Henry to overhear. She slowly sank back into her seat. Her knuckles curled into a fist around the worn strap of her bag.
"Good decision," Henry muttered from his desk. His eyes were still on the stray papers he was rushing through to grade.
She flinched against the underside of her desk when her phone buzzed against her thigh. Elizabeth took a quick glance out the window to the crowds of students fleeing the grassy front lawn of the school before checking back to read the text sent from her mother.
From: Mom Sent: 3:50pm Lost boys causing a wreck downtown, tell Henry to keep you guys in school
From: Mom Sent: 3:52pm Do you know where Pan is?
From: Mom Sent: 3:52pm Dad crashed gramps truck… he's okay... Peter's causing a lot of trouble today…
The quick procession of texts had Elizabeth frozen in her seat. She glanced up at Henry, who was peering up from his quizzes to observe her reaction. It took her a second to realize her jaw had hung slack from the shock. She could have guessed that the boys were responsible for the commotion that had the town up in a frenzy (reckless driving was certainly not beyond the capability of Peter and Felix).
Henry eyed her coldly before her returned to the papers. Their relationship had been skating thin ice since her relationship with the former Neverland boy-king was first brought into light. She had always been a stunning girl; that much was obvious on the day that Henry first met her as a newborn in the hospital. He knew that he'd have her one day in his class, as well as Adam and Neal (his two technical uncles - though luckily Neal had his class the year beforehand in the grade above). Henry understood that he'd eventually have to deal with having her not as a sister but as a student in the public environment where he'd have to accept that she was a girl with budding hormones and attraction for the opposite sex. Of course the consideration never sat well with Henry, but he had given it some thought.
Unfortunately he never imagined his little sister would be the target of intrigue and infatuation from one of his worst rivals, Peter Pan.
Elizabeth's phone buzzed again.
From: Mom Sent: 3:57pm Any chance you can get Peter to call it off? I am out of ideas.
It was a rare occasion that Emma sought Elizabeth's assistance in anything that would be considered even remotely dangerous. Her mother and father (especially her father) were protective of her, which in effect, led to her nature becoming all the more wild with an everlasting itch to violate the rules set before her. As it just so happened, Elizabeth did know how to tame the beast and twist Peter's game in on itself. She was cunning as she was manipulative; her self-awareness and perception of the desires of others' were perhaps her two greatest weapons.
To: Mom Sent: 4:00pm Yeah, leave the keys to the station in the bushes outside the front
She shot up from her desk without a word of parting to her brother, who watched her with suspicion as she ran out the door after Adam. Luckily he hadn't gotten far. He had spent some time at his locker a short ways down the bland, white-tiled hallway.
"Hey!" Elizabeth jogged over to where Adam had just reset the lock on his cheap metal locker. "Don't go yet. I need your help."
Adam smirked with disbelief, "You need my help?"
"Yeah," she smiled. "I know of a way to get Peter and his boys off the street, but in order for it to work, I need you to do something for me."
She sat cross-legged over the sheriff desk, waiting patiently for him to walk through the front doors. The heat had simmered into a complacent coolness as the June sunlight was replaced by a cover of darkness with not but a faint leak of moonlight.
Night had fallen over Storybrooke, and with that came peace and quiet.
Elizabeth's thumb brushed over the glowing screen of her phone as she disregarded the outpour of messages from her father, who had just woken in the hospital and continued to incessantly demand that she return home. Asides from the parental badgering, all other notifications came from her facebook application - more specially a photo she had posted earlier with Adam.
To the untrained eye, it was a harmless selfie in the school gymnasium on the bleachers. They had sprawled out all of their school books over the expanded bleachers to make it appear as if they were studying together. Adam had his arm around her waist with a wide grin as she leaned her head on his shoulder, sticking out her tongue playfully to the camera.
"Study sesh on lockdown"
Thirty seconds after she posted the photo on facebook, Peter Pan liked it. He had taken the bait, as Elizabeth guessed he would. The longer she made him dwell on the lone photo with no response to his endless rain of questioning text messages, the angrier she knew he would become.
So there she waited… nearly five hours later. The ticking hands on the clock that hung above the corkboard showed the time to be approaching nine o'clock; much later than she had hoped he'd come looking for her. The night was quiet outside with the exception to the symphonic humming of summer insect calls and cricket chirpings. Her ears were trained for the rumble of his motorcycle, though even from afar she couldn't make out a sound.
It was fortunate that Emma had installed a bell on the sheriff door, otherwise there would have been no way she would have noticed him walk in. All of the lights were kept off in the station. The limited visibility came only from the scattered streaks of white moonlight that shined in from the window. Elizabeth set her nervous glare on Peter as he made his way inside.
His silhouette was black in the shadow of the entrance, though even with her lack of sight, she could just barely make out the shape of his head as he cocked it to the side. "Hey," she stated while uncrossing her legs to let them dangle over the edge. "Missed you today."
Peter's shoulders shook with a soundless chuckle. She could make out the definitions of his facial expression as he neared the moonlight. His lips were pressed in a hard smile that offered a scant glimpse of his festering rage. "Did you?" His furious wide green eyes glimmered iridescent in the moonlight leaking in through the blinds. "I could hardly tell, what with all your studious endeavors this afternoon."
"I had to get your attention somehow. You ignored all of my messages." She pursed her lips in an infuriated scowl. "I didn't hear you pull up on your bike. What happened?" Peter stepped into the meager fleck of moonlight, finally offering Elizabeth the rest of his battered and beaten appearance. Her cool composure broke when she first noticed the strip of Peter's dark denims that had all but shredded off. Down the side of his leg, there was a deep red shine that gleamed when he took his first step out of the shadows, exposing the gush of road burn that had yet to be treated.
"Peter, what the hell!"
He laughed, his delighted smile bearing the faintest glimmer of his teeth in the lowlight. Elizabeth gripped the edge of the desk and kept her eyes down on the horrific wound as he moved closer. He closed the distance between them until he had wedged himself between her knees hanging off the desk. Standing taller than where she sat, Peter nudged his nose along the roots of her hair and dropped his hands down over her waist. Elizabeth hooked her finger in the bloodied holes of his jeans and pulled him in closer so she could feel the warmth of his bloodied gash along his thigh. Her voice lowered, "What did you do?"
"It's just a scratch. The bike took the worst of it," he murmured. His lips brushed the cartilage of her ear and beckoned for her to lean upwards into his breath. She smoothed her finger over the wound to feel the extent of where it began and ended. "If you don't believe me, ask your father."
"Yeah, about that," she smiled inquisitively. "Explain to me how he was put in the hospital."
Peter smirked against her forehead. "He ought to have known better, really."
She leaned back and glowered up at him. "He was lucky to walk away from the accident with just a fractured wrist. If he and Robin weren't wearing seatbelts they could have been killed."
"Captain Hook, in a seatbelt?" He laughed, "I didn't realize the extent of grip that our Savior sheriff has on him."
"There's nothing funny about you almost killing my father. I'm not interested in what happened between you two in Neverland. Being with me means keeping my family out of your do-or-die stunts."
"Perhaps in the future he'll know better than to follow someone who should not be followed."
"Why'd you break into the fairy's apartment for in the first place? What were you looking for?"
"What did I recover, you mean?" Peter smirked, "When your family rescued Henry from Neverland all those years ago, they brought back a small part of the island, a vial of pixie dust, which they were able to make work." He curled one of his hands into the underside of his collar shirt to pull out a thin string. Hanging at the bottom was the green glowing vial. "This vial contains all the magic I need to be powerful again; to start playing some real games with the people I despise most in this town."
Elizabeth reached up to grasp Peter's wrist that held the vial. His skin was cool to the touch and was thrumming with a strange drone of energy. She glared up at him, "What games?"
"All sorts of games, any games I like." He tipped his head down, forehead leaning on forehead, to observe Elizabeth's hand that smoothed over his wound. Her fingers began to draw gentle circles over the contour of his shredded skin while her other hand wrapped around his other upper thigh, keeping him close against her waist. She felt a soothing buzz of energy seep out of his fingers and through hers to reach his flayed skin. After a mere few seconds had passed, the wound had magically cleaned itself and his skin had pulled back together.
"Whatever you have planned, you're going to leave my family out of it," she interjected. "That includes Henry."
"You know I can't agree to that, not while you're related to nearly half the town. There'd be no oneworthwhile left for me to go after."
"I don't care," she glared sharply up at him. "I can tolerate Peter Pan; I'm not so sure about Jack the Ripper."
Peter huffed out a breath of annoyance. His fingers curled around her wrist. "You expect an awful lot from someone whose been deprived of so much."
Rather than dispute him with further argument, Elizabeth quickly switched tactics. She leaned in to press a kiss against the corner of his jaw. His smile fell solemn before he shrugged with indifference. "I do not make promises to protect adults. They deserve the worst of what I have in store."
"What if I asked nicely?" She nuzzled her nose lower just below his ear.
His infuriation simmered with a low chuckle, "Well look who's started to play dirty."
"Mmhmm," she hummed against his neck. Her legs tightened around his waist. "Promise to play nice."
Her eyes had already closed to welcome the feel of Peter's lips over her brow. She swayed into his warm breath that ghosted over the side of her temple. He smirked, "You're not going to win that easily."
His hands, which had been kept firm on her waist, dropped down beneath where her legs which rested over the desk. He hoisted her up in his arms with ease. She laughed just before her mouth collided with his - all lip and tongue clashing with the others in competitive lust. He walked them back from the desk and into the open holding cell. Elizabeth's legs tightened around him as he pressed her up against the rusted iron bars.
She leaned her head back into a gleam of moonlight. Her eyes shut complacently with another breathy chuckle as Peter started at the corner of her ear and worked down along the side of her neck. Just as she felt the gentle sway of his waist, she leaned back against the bars. "Alright, if you can't promise you'll keep them out of your games, then at least swear there will be no fatalities."
Peter flashed his teeth in a bitter smile. "And there's that wonderful sense of humor that I adore so much."
"You're in Storybrooke, not Neverland." Her fingers carded through the ends of his dark golden hair. "Killing is against the rules here."
"Against your rules perhaps, but not mine. And what's to happen if I do take a life?" He gawked with mock-fear. "Is the fearsome Emma Swan going to lock me up in the station?
"There's more at stake than that," she frowned. "Murder is something I can't forgive."
The two remained silent in their stubborn resolve. Back in the time spent in Neverland, the notion that Peter Pan would make a compromise was unheard of. This sort of dealing was not easy for him. He had just discovered passion for the first time with Elizabeth. Not only was she his greatest treasure, but also his greatest challenge as it was made clear in their long exchange of waiting until the other broke. It took another excruciating minute before Peter finally bent. His smile hardened into a firm scowl as he let out a furious huff. "Of course I have other ways of winning… If it really bothers you all that much." She caught her bottom lip between her teeth in an excited smile. "But l will warn you; my other forms of punishment are no more merciful."
"Fine." Her legs slowly unhitched down from around Peter's waist and lowered back to the ground. He nudged his knee between her legs, keeping her on the tips of her toes as his mouth moved downwards to ravish her neck once more.
With all negotiations put at rest, she knew there was one last item on her agenda that she could not afford to be distracted from. All in one ardent maneuver, Elizabeth grabbed Peter and rolled him around to switch positions. She walked him back against the bars, one hand hooking her fingers under both of his cuffs to lift his hands up over his head while the other gently pulled on the back ends of his hair to demand eye contact. "That reminds me, you still need to be punished."
Peter raised his brow, "Punished? What, for cutting a tire?"
Elizabeth rolled her bottom lip into her mouth as her eyes narrowed in contemplative thought. "Actually, this is a bit more personal." She moved back in to demand his lips once more, only this time kissing him with a hungry drive that soon left his lips softened and his lungs devoid of air. Elizabeth rode her hips against him. She could feel his arousal growing and lusting for more friction beneath his layer of denim. His breathing was becoming erratic. His body trembled while his fingers curled over her one hand of restraint.
Peter moved to thrust against her again, this time pushing a wind of air through his teeth when Elizabeth met him with her own forceful sway of the hips. She leaned on her toes to kiss him hard, forcing his head to knock back against the bars.
"Do you remember when I told you that I don't do well in closed spaces?" She spoke in and out of breaths. He nodded, now fully consumed with the prospect of kissing, licking, and teasing the skin of her shoulder into all different shades of purple. "Well that sort of goes hand-in-hand with school. And it just so happened that your antics kept me stuck there in lockdown for nearly two hours."
The clink and jingle of the metal handcuffs snapped Peter's attention back to reality. In a matter of seconds, she had both of his wrists cuffed to the iron bars of the cell. Elizabeth pressed a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw before her hand moved up to his neck to snap the necklace bearing the pixie dust. "The next time you decide to put the town on high alert, make sure that I am out of school."
"Elizabeth."
She smiled in jest to Peter's rousing anger. "I'm curious, when was the last time someone's put you on timeout? Judging by your reaction, I'd say it's been a while." Elizabeth spun the necklace in circles around her finger. "Don't get too worked up - this won't last long. I'll have my mom let you out in time for school tomorrow morning. You kept me there for two hours, so I say the fair penalty is keeping you in here for twelve."
Peter leaned back against the bars. His eyes narrowed, "I'll just have to restart this entire game over. I'm sure my boys would love take another stroll through town."
"Probably," she smirked before walking out of the prison cell. Peter turned awkwardly, already struggling with the restriction of where his hands were cuffed high on the bars. She pulled out the sheriff keys from her back pocket and locked the cell tight. He eyed her with a pouting frown, as she expected he would, though his body language nonetheless remained need for her. He leaned against the bars of his cell, locks of his disheveled hair perked through the iron cage. His eyes obviously coming off as spiteful, though beneath that there was an essence of distraught that Elizabeth could not ignore or leave unaddressed.
She smiled and moved closer to the cell. "Good night, Peter," she murmured before kissing his cheek through the bars. He kept quiet and his glare fixed on her backside as she left the sheriff station for good.
Elizabeth pushed through the front doors and was suddenly caught with the shock of finding her mother already waiting outside. Emma's arms were crossed and she did her very best to come off as annoyed. She leaned on the hood of the sheriff car.
Elizabeth dropped her shoulders and trudged her feet over to the car. "I told you I could handle it. You didn't have to come out to get me."
"What was it, exactly, that you were handling? Did you find Peter?"
"Yeah, I think Tink will find that she's missing this from her jewelry box." She shoved the vial into her mother's hand. "Peter will be spending the night in the station. You have a night of clean streets, you're welcome."
Elizabeth strutted over to the passenger side of the car and climbed in without so much of another word to her confused and irritated mother.