When Smee appeared, Wendy was ravenous. Her mind had skirted the original delight at being home again, and was beginning to become racked with concern. What of her mother? How would she react to her disappearing again? Admittedly, she was no longer the twelve-year-old girl she had been, with two brothers in toe. And Mrs. Darling didn't seem to need her anymore. She had been her daughter. Now she wanted Wendy to grow into her own life, separate from her own sphere. The orange blossoms of marriage were foremost in her mind, as it was to any of her family. And she wasn't ready. She didn't want to marry.
Tortuously she paced until Smee popped in, his round face lively with a bearded smile.
"Alrigh' ms. Darling? I have yer supper here, the Cap'n said he'll be along in a moment."
Wendy smiled at him politely, pleased despite herself to see him.
"Thank you, Smee."
He paced back and forth, plates heaving with flaky bread rolls, creamy pate, fruits and meats dripping with honey. Wendy watched, her eyes round with delight. Slowly, however, her expression lost its expression and fell into one of vague abandon. "Do you think…"
Smee glanced up to find her cloudy eyes glazed as she looked at a basket of green apples. He waited patiently.
"Do you think my mother would approve of my becoming a pirate?"
"Well, I don't know her."
"I don't know. She wouldn't I don't think. She might even be jealous." With a sigh that huffed her small frame, she sank down into a velvet covered chair and propped her chin on one fist. Her curls brushed her wrist as she slowly shook her head in thought. Smee picked up his feet and gave her a small smile.
"Well, either way, I know we'd be happy to have our Red Handed Jill back." Wendy smiled at him gratefully, a smile of such sweetness that Smee had to fight the urge to ruffle her curls. He reflected on the last time he had seen her- twelve years old in skirts dirty and ragged, eyes glowing with love for a boy who could never love her back. She had been flying, giggling, Pan dancing around her as he waltzed her home to London so she could live her life.
And here she was, back again. It broke his heart.
"Where's the Captain?"
Smee looked at her in some measure of surprise. There was unmistakable longing in her voice. If he remembered correctly, which he was sure he did, the last time Hook and Wendy had been near one another, she had been tied up and he had his hook under her throat.
"'E has business ashore."
"Oh." Loneliness. That was all. Wendy glanced up at Smee to find him sadly looking down at her and quickly brightened her features.
"Smee?" An unmistakable voice came from the doorway, an upper class drawl. Wendy quickly looked away from Smee, who turned at his Captain's bidding. "What are you doing in here?"
"Bringin' food in. Miss Wendy was just askin' where you were." Smee said carefully, mindful of the flash of something he saw in the Captain's eyes. Hook glanced once at the girl and chuckled lowly, taking off his hat and tossing it onto his bed. Wendy followed it with her gaze, before bringing her eyes curiously back to Hook again. She had never seen him without his hat. His tousled hair was windswept past his cheekbones.
Smee quietly left as Hook seated himself at the table, propping his feet on the desk so as to regard Wendy with refreshed interest. She carefully picked at her food, avoiding his gaze.
"So tell me, little Wendy, what have you been doing with yourself since our last… meeting." Hook grimaced as he contemplated the last time he had been this close to her, her breathing sharp and her soft curls brushing his palm as he held steel to her throat. She smirked at his discomfort, twirling a finger around the stem of her glass.
"I say we call ourselves even, Captain. You attempted to kill me, and I you."
"An admirable proposition. But you didn't answer my question."
"I've been… growing. Growing old, growing tired, growing dull." Wendy shut her eyes briefly, before sparkling them in Hook's direction. He regarded her silently a moment.
"Growing old and tired, perhaps, but never dull." A smile flashed across her lips as she sank her teeth into a green apple. Hook grinned in return, watching her lips scrunch against the tart fruit. "How old are you, ms Darling?"
"Eighteen last month," She replied quietly, "How about yourself, Captain? Seeing as age seems such a determinate factor in the world."
Hook contemplated for a moment, tapping one finger to his lips and taking a gulp from his rum.
"I'm not sure, I lost count. One good thing about Neverland is the inability to age, and therefore the lack of necessity to keep track of trifling matters such as age."
Wendy regarded him a moment, wide eyed, with something that looked as though it bordered on envy. Peter remaining at the age of thirteen seemed to lack glamour when compared to the possibility of being old enough to remain lucid and remember, forever. She did not doubt that he had forgotten her. He hadn't come to her home for spring cleaning for three years since. Hook on the other hand, he had known her even before she had known him. She glanced up to find his crystal blue eyes knowingly looking into hers as his lips wrapped around the flask in his one hand.
"That seems… reasonable."
"Thank you for your approval." He chuckled in return, lifting his boots from the table in order to reach the food Smee had so lovingly prepared for his leader. Wendy followed his cue and buttered a piece of bread, taking care to bite into it daintily rather than shove as much into her mouth as she wanted. A comfortable silence fell over the two as they dined, and Wendy found herself curiously watching the Captain from the corner of her eye whenever he wasn't looking. He ate with proper table manners, a napkin upon his knee, his coat hanging from the back of his chair to expose pristine shirtsleeves. One would not expect such manners from a pirate- a pirate captain no less. She supposed most wore ragged vests and swore over full mouths of meat and bread, and made a mental note to find out later. Hook, in return, watched her unabashed as she swallowed small bites and took small sips of her water, likewise marvelling at the change a companion with manners could bring to a meal. Since he had left Eton, the only men who were the same were those he had abandoned in London, oh, years ago. Yet she was no man, as he was painfully aware of as her breasts swelled beneath the linen of his too-big shirt.
He shook himself. This was Wendy. The original ideas of using her to hurt Pan still hovered on the fringes of his mind, he had expected the boy already at some point in the afternoon to investigate the rumours of a new female on his ship. He had made sure to spread the rumour himself through the Mermaids, the Indians, the Lost Boys. Pan must know. Perhaps he cared not at all. He would, though, when he found out who it was.
Oblivious to his scheming, Wendy could only not the change in his stance. From easily relaxed he had tensed slightly, his eyes cooling to a darker blue as they glazed in thought. She, in turn, took a gulp from a wine goblet to steady her nerves.
"I don't know how I came to be in Neverland, and I do appreciate the hospitality, but I fear I will only take up space in your cabin. I will leave tomorrow to hunt for somewhere more suitable." She took another long drink from her wine, avoiding Hook with her eyes. He jerked his head around to look at her, and narrowed his eyes.
"Leave?" His voice was soft, "And go where pray tell?"
"I could find Peter. I could find out why I came to be here and reverse it." Even as she said it, she felt a pang. She couldn't go back to London. But at the same time, she really would like to see her childhood friend, god, world. Peter hadn't come to find her, so she would go to him. Hook was still glaring in her direction, but he surprised her with a laugh.
"I think you'll find Peter quite different to how you remember, my dear. Age has a habit of altering the perceptions of the young." His eyes twinkled with mischief as he deliberately traced his eyes to her lips, her neck, and back again. "In the most part."
"Are you in habit of flirting with those you have previously attempted to murder, Captain?" She asked mildly, ignoring his eyes and swigging from her cup once again. The room was beginning to blur pleasantly. She had never tried spirits before, and she had a distinct feeling what she was drinking wasn't the same wine they had back in London.
"Of course- or else I would have no one left to flirt with."
"How flattering." Wendy snorted.
Hook smirked in reply, opened his mouth to reply, but before he could Wendy gave a yawn big enough to drown a crocodile in. He had noted the amount of alcohol she had consumed and was not surprised to see her gaze shifting from focus to glazed.
"I think it's time you slept, my dear." He swept to his feet, holding an arm out to her as gallantly as a lord. She yawned again, tears streaming, as she pressed one hand to her lips.
"I have slept all day, I don't see any reason to be tired." She murmured, sliding to her feet.
"You're recovering." He shrugged, turning his back to allow her to slip his breeches off and slide under the covers of his bed in full modesty. When he turned she was nestled into a pillow, her curls a halo around a sleepy face, covers to her chin. She shut her eyes in exhaustion, forgetting the pirate stood at the foot of his bed which she was residing in.
"Tell me a story." He murmured, and she felt a dip in the bed next to her and the warmth of another body under the covers. She kept her eyes shut, turning her face in his direction, smiling slightly.
"Odd, no one has wanted to hear my stories in years, and yet here is the infamous Captain James Hook asking for a bedtime story."
"From the infamous Red Handed Jill." He returned sarkishly.
"Oh, very well." She couldn't resist the demand for one of her tales. "Once upon a time, there was a girl- who had a stepmother whose evil was renowned throughout the kingdom…"
She spoke until her heavy eyelids shut, the lull of the Jolly Roger rocking the occupants of the Captain's cabin dreamily to sleep on a wind of stories and intrigue.