Disclaimer: Anything you recognise is not mine.
AN: I don't write anything remotely explicit, besides which, as a good Edwardian girl I'm sure Wendy's thoughts would go something like this. But yes. Yes they did. And she's technically sixteen, from the long time spent in Neverland.
Chapter Five.
She was never to know how much later it was that they found themselves wrapped drowsily in blankets and each other on her narrow bed. All she knew was that it had seemed to take all night, and yet at the same time not nearly long enough. Wendy had a vague sense that she was supposed to feel now as if she had lost something, but truly, she'd never felt like she'd found so much in all her life.
It was then that something stirred in her mind, and she realised consciously for the first time that he'd been taller than her three years ago, and was taller than her still. Quite as old as you and taller than me . . . It had seemed perfectly logical a moment ago, but she was fifteen now, and he was . . .
She sat up abruptly, knocking him onto his back, his eyes fluttering open lazily.
"Peter!" Studying his face closely, she was amazed that it had taken her this long. "You've grown up!"
"Not all the way," he said, smiling mischievously up at her, "and neither have you."
Oooh, it was that smile, the one that always did her in, and he looked so very amused by how long it had taken her, and she very nearly let him pull her back down, but –
She propped herself up firmly. "Peter. Why didn't you come back before? All these years, I thought you'd forgotten us. Really I did."
She sounded so hurt that the smile faded from his face.
"No you didn't," he said quite seriously. "That window's always been unlocked. And look here."
Reaching deftly up into the folds of her chemise, his sure fingers found the acorn at her throat.
"You don't take this off. Not even to sleep."
She was silent for a moment, and her voice, when it came, was smaller than she would have liked. "Why'd you leave me?"
He did pull her down then, and she buried her face in the pillow. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry . . . but you wanted to grow up, and I had to leave so you could try it, and I had to stay away . . . I did watch you. Almost every night."
"Why didn't you come in, I wanted you to."
Her voice was muffled, and they'd been speaking quietly, but she knew he'd heard.
"Almost left it too late, didn't I." Was all he said by way of reply, and when she lifted her head she saw his chagrined expression.
"Almost," she agreed, looking down at him looking up at her and feeling as if she never wanted to close her eyes again. "That man downstairs should probably have asked me to marry him in a matter of weeks -"
She broke off suddenly.
They stared at one another for a long moment.
He breathed, "'Should have'," and she realised they'd both been talking as if the very fact of their being there now, together, had decided her future.
Peter broke the silence first, looking oddly vulnerable. "So you'll . . . I mean, will you. Will you come back to Neverland?"
"Absurd boy, that you have to ask!" And suddenly everything was golden again, and he was laughing, and the light stayed gold for the longest time until, at delicious length, she drifted to sleep in his arms.