Second Star to the Right

Request for nightrose1234

A/N: I was so excited for this request. When I was on a Loki kick, this was my favorite story arch.

"I wanted a Peter Pan one-shot where the reader found Pan wounded in the real world and she lets him stay in her house while he heals. While staying, he ended up wanting to take her to Neverland. Is that okay?"

The wind whipped at your face, but your heart pounding in your chest and your blood rushing through your veins kept you warm enough to not notice the cold bite of the weather. Your sneakers slapped the pavement as you jogged through the park, pushing through the last leg of your morning run. As you sprinted past the park that was located just a block away from your apartment, a flash of green and what looked like crumpled limbs caught your eye. You slowed to a halt and spun on your heel, running back towards the bushes that lined the park. There, curled up on the grass, was a boy who appeared to be about your age. He wore a strange but not unflattering green tunic, torn at the sleeves and collar, and grey and black pants. Scuffed leather boots covered his feet, and though his head was bent down to cover his face, you could see the soft brown curls that covered his head.

You knelt down beside him, your close proximity allowing you to catch sight of the bruises and cuts that littered his arms. A frown tugged at your lips, and you wondered what had happened to him and if he was okay.

"Hey," you called softly. When he didn't so much as flinch, you tried again, a bit louder, and placed your hand on his shoulder.

His head snapped up to reveal dirt and more bruises, along with a pair of emerald eyes that struck your soul. The broken, cautious, betrayed expression on his face told you that he needed help, but he didn't know how to get it.

"Are you okay?" you asked gently. "You look hurt. Do you need help?"

"I don't need anything," he snarled, as though asking for help was the most humiliating task. He shrugged your hand away and unfolded his legs, trying to stand. You stood with him, but you were the only one who made it all the way up. He collapsed back on the ground, his muscles too weak from whatever had happened for him use.

"Are you sure you don't want help?" you offered again. "I won't judge you, I promise. I'd just hate to leave you here like this."

He glanced up at you, his brows furrowed as though he were trying to decipher your offer. Did he gave something against a female assisting him? Or was he just anti-help in general?

A sigh fell from his lips. "Fine. Help."

You knelt down, holding out your hands. He hesitated before placing his hands in yours, wincing as you stood to pull him up. You could see more contusions and lacerations across his chest, leading down into his shirt, and it tugged at your heart. Whoever this guy was, you were sure he didn't deserve such a beating.

"I'm gonna take you to my apartment, okay? I can patch you up there and see about getting you home."

He nodded slowly, eyeing you cautiously the entire time you walked him home. He'd never admit that he let anyone help him, much less some girl that he'd just met.

Once home, you led him inside and sat him on the couch.

"Wait right there. I'll go get my medical kit."

He watched you saunter away, disappearing down the hall. He tilted his head curiously, having no idea what a medical kit was or what you were planning to do with it.

You returned with a plastic case and sat on the couch beside him. A blush crept across your face as you came to the realization that most of his wounds were hidden by his clothes.

"Your face and arms are accessible, but if there are any other wounds, you'll need to, uh..."

He smirked. "You want me to take my clothes off?"

Your blush deepened. "Well, I, uh... It would help."

He slowly rose to a standing position, and you suddenly became very interested in the box in your lap as he stripped down.

He sat back down, clad only in his boxers, and waited for you to fix him up. When you didn't even raise your head, he grinned.

"I don't bite," he chuckled. "Well, unless you ask me to."

Very inappropriate thoughts flooded your brain, so you shook them away. Clearing your throat, you lifted your head and opened the kit, pulling out ointment ad gauze and alcohol pads. You took his arm in your hand and lifted an alcohol pad. "This is going to sting." He winced as you slowly brushed the cloth against his arm, wiping away the blood and dirt. You mumbled apologies as you medicated and bandaged each wound, continuing the routine for the rest of his body.

When he was covered in gauze, you sat back and looked at him. "You're good to go. Now all we have to do is get you home. Do you live around here?"

He shook his head. "I come from... far away..."

You quirked a brow. "Okay. What's your name?"

A smirk crossed his lips. "Peter. Peter Pan."

You opened your mouth to reply but quickly closed it when no response came to mind. "You're... Okay then. Well, if we can't get you home, you'll have to stay here until you're healed."

Had you been anyone else, Pan would be screaming at you for even taking him in. But something about you had his smirk widening. "That doesn't sound so bad."

The next few weeks went as roughly as they possibly could. You were starting to believe that Peter really was Peter Pan just because he couldn't seem to do anything, and every excuse he had for not knowing things involved being a lost boy and living in an island.

"We don't clean in Neverland. Everything stays dirty."

"No, I don't have any manners. Never had a mother to teach me.

"What the bloody hell is a microwave??"

You were on your way home from work, cell phone pressed to your ear as you sauntered up to the door. On the other line was your best friend, to whom you'd been telling your adventures since the day you found Pan in the park.

"I don't know what to do, Mari. He's convinced that he's Peter Pan, like from the fairy tale. He won't tell me where he's from or anything, and he acts like he's never seen any of the appliances in my kitchen."

"Have you ever thought that he could be telling the truth?" Mari countered. She had a fascination with fantasy worlds, and she liked to believe that fairy tales had some base in reality.

"You really think he's Peter Pan from Neverland?" you asked incredulously. As you pushed open the door, your jaw dropped, and you nearly let go of your phone.

"What's going on?" Mari demanded. "(Y/n)??"

"I have to go," was all you said before hanging up. "Peter?"

Pan rounded the corner, smirking softly at you. He was dressed in the green plaid button down and dark grey jeans you'd bought him so he didn't have to wear his torn clothes.

"What happened?" you inquired. Your entire apartment was spotless and organized.

"I cleaned," he shrugged. "Why? Don't you like it?"

"I love it," you breathed. "What happened to, 'lost boys don't clean'?"

He chuckled softly. "I just copied what you did."

"Thank you," you murmured.

He led you to the couch and say down, pulling you down beside him. You chuckled at how social he had become with you. When you'd first found him, he hardly tolerated being in the same room.

"I think I have a way to prove who I am," he told you.

You raised a brow. "And how's that?"

He leaned in close, resting a hand on your cheek. His breath ghosted over your lips, and your entire body tingled.

"I want to thank you for taking me in," he murmured, his lips just barely brushing against yours. You fought the urge to lean in and close the gap.

"I don't get close to people," he continued. "I don't like getting attached. But I'm attached to you, and I don't want you to go anywhere."

Your eyes fluttered closed as he pressed his lips to yours. Sparks flew behind your eyelids and you could swear you heard fireworks. You scooted closer, melding your lips against his and tangling a hand in his soft brown locks.

He pulled back with a grin. "Do you trust me?"

You nodded softly, looking up at him through your lashes.

He rose from the couch and stood before you. His eyes closed as he lifted his head, inhaling deeply. You wondered what he was trying to do, and as you glanced down at the floor, you exhaled a gasp. There was an evident gap between his feet and your carpet.

He smirked proudly and settled back down, holding out his hands. "Do you believe me?"

You took his hands and stood. "Peter Pan... You really are Peter Pan."

"And I live in Neverland," he added. "And I want you to come with me."

Your eyes widened. "I'd love to."

He led you to the window, wrapping an arm around your waist.

"I can't fly," you pointed out.

He chuckled. "Believe in me and my magic will do the rest."

You nodded, closing your eyes and focusing all of your energy on Pan. He tugged you close as you floated out of the window and up into the sky.