Title: Asking To Be Panned
Chapter: The Fourth - Unrest in Neverland
Author: squeezynz
Rating: still PG13, despite what you may think,
Some of the denizens of the island are not entirely happy campers.
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Authors Note: Okay, I'm getting some flack for not rating this higher, but to me an "R" rating would indicate either extreme violence, swearing and/or explicit sex between the characters. Now I'll admit to outrageous innuendo and naughtily suggestive bits, but so far, nothing to warrant an R rating....yet. Another accusation has been that Wendy is a (whispers) slut. (shock horror).....well, this is supposed to be a piss-take of the whole PP genre, therefore the characters are nothing like their originals....in fact in some cases the exact opposite of their usual interpretation by authors. So if you are an ardent Wendy Worshipper, then this is not the fic for you, or if you are a Peter Pan Perfectionist, this is definitely not the fic for you.
On the other hand, the reviews I've received to date have indicated you're enjoying the humour as much as I've had fun writing it, despite the screwed up characters, so I will endeavor to lay off the smut, as hard as that is, and try for more fluff and nonsense. TTFN.
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Let us leave our thwarted lovers in their cosy cabin for the moment. What of the other creatures and characters that inhabit the island of Neverland? Of Tink and Princess Tiger Lily, we already know that they are currently hoofing it through the forest, leaping logs and laughing after their nighttime prank, Tink's bright glow lighting the way for the wicked Indian Maid, her tinkling laughter like silver bells in the silence of the wood.
Once out of sight of the flower be-decked cabin, the pretty Princess collapsed onto the forest floor and held her sides as she laughed, Tink fluttering down beside her to join in the jest.
"Did you see her face? I swear her eyes nearly popped out of her head!"
Tink chimed merrily, adding her own observations.
"And did you see Peter? Not a stitch on, I nearly skewered him, wouldn't that have served him right, the two-timing weasel!"
Tink again added her own comments in her bell-like chimes, her light turning several shades from pale lemon, to scarlet as her emotions swung from delight at causing such mayhem to outright devilry at the prospect of causing more. Eventually Tink and the Princess calmed themselves, Tink settling herself beside her accomplis on the leaf strewn ground.
"What are we going to do tomorrow Tink?"
Tiger Lily listened as Tink suggested several ideas to disrupt the lives of Wendy and Peter. Lily had to smile, Tink really did have it in for poor Wendy.
"I think we'll have to leave it until tomorrow night Tink, I'm bushed. Meet you at the old hideout?"
Tink nodded her head and yawned expansively. Moments later the two went their separate ways, the fairy's light bobbing and weaving through the trees to her nighttime roost, Tiger Lily back to her village and her soft sleeping furs.
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Out in the moonlit bay, just around the headland from Mermaid Lagoon, the darkened outline of a brig wallowed in the gentle swell. The Jolly Roger lay at peaceful anchor, her crew below decks, slumbering in their bunks or hammocks, the watchman slumped against the railing, his mouth open as he snored.
Since the passing of her pirate Captain, the ship had become nothing more than a floating bunkhouse, the crew grown lax and lazy, the ship showing the signs of their neglect in her slippery decks and unpolished woodwork. The sails flapped listlessly in the faint breeze, the ropes tangled and hanging loose among the rigging. The ship creaked, as all ships do, her planks and bulwarks groaning against the slight roll of the swell. Among the glittering waves sleek bodies wove their sinuous way, scales catching the gleam of moonshine as they dove and twisted through the water. Half a dozen mermaids popped their heads out of the sea and gazed up at the black ship's sides, their obsidian eyes reflecting the moonlight, their wet seaweed hair floating around their heads.
Arranging themselves in a circle, the Mermaids started to sing, the tune foreign to human ears, the water within the circle bubbling and hissing as something rose to the surface. Lifting their arms, the Mermaids continued their unearthly chant, a weed enshrouded body rising out of the sea and into the air, rising up the side of the ship and over the railing, floating though the air to land softly against the un-scrubbed deck.
As suddenly as they started, the Mermaids ceased their chanting and slipped below the waves, glistening tails slapping the surface before speeding their owners into the depths of the dark sea.
First Mate of the Jolly Roger, Jeremiah Smee scratched his exposed belly as he staggered onto the poop-deck to take care of his over-full bladder. He sighed deeply as he leaned back, his eyes closed as he relieved himself over the side. Finished, he stretched his arms and yawned expansively before turning around to find his bed once more. As he headed for the hatchway his foot connected with something on the deck and he fell flat on his face.
"What the....who left this pile of rubbish littering the deck, ya swabs!?" Smee bellowed, rubbing his elbow as he sat looking at the pile of seaweed laying wetly before him. "Dammit....I'm not cleaning up this mess...I'm for me bed!"
Before he could move the heap moved and a low moan issued forth. Smee froze, his eyes bugging as he watched the now heaving pile of seaweed.
"Damn and blast, who put this pile of rotting seaweed upon me!?"
Goggling, Smee scrambled to get away from the writhing mass, his ears hardly believing the voice issuing from the thrashing mess.
"God's blood, where are ya, ya gallows spawn, get me out of this!"
His eyes still wide, his mouth flapping open, Smee crawled over to the slippery mound and started to pull the stinking weed away from the body trying to free itself.
"C-c-c-ca-a-aptain?"
"Is that you Smee? Confound your eyes, get me out of this slime."
"Er.....yes Capt'n, right away Capt'n, in a jiffy Capt'n!" Smee babbled, all the time ripping more of the seaweed away to expose the person within. Finally the last rubbery strand had been pulled away and Captain James Aurelius Hook sat staring back at his horribly surprised first mate.
"Well don't just sit there you lubbard, help me up."
"Right you are then, Captain....up-se-daisy."
Planting his feet wide, Smee grasped the Captains left hand and hauled his previously deceased superior officer to his feet. Hook swayed once upright, but flapped Smee away when he reached to steady his Captain.
"Don't fuss Smee, you old woman." Hook looked around the darkened deck, then up at the stars twinkling above. "Still in Neverland, are we?"
"Y-y-y-e-es."
"All righty then...."Hook sniffed, his aristocratic nose wrinkling at the strong smell of fish now combined with the stench of the seaweed. "Don't care for the smell Smee....the crew have been lazy in my absence. Need to get this lot cleaned up...call all hands on deck Smee...be quick about it!"
Sketching a sloppy salute, his mind still trying to catch up, Smee staggered to the ships bell and rang it forcefully, yelling all the time for all hands to come on deck. While Hook picked off the last of the weed from his embroider frock coat, the crew appeared on deck in dribs and drabs, muttering all the while like a low roll of thunder as they congregated amidships. As more lanterns appeared, more of the crew noticed the tall figure of Hook standing at the center on a raised hatch, still picking pieces of green seaweed from his clothes and hair. The muttering died away to a whisper as the crewmen surveyed their believed-to-be-dead leader.
"Is that you Captain?"
"It most certainly is Mister Cook."
"Bain't you a ghost?" Another asked in a hushed tone, muttering breaking out again.
"No Mister Jordan, I am not a ghost. If you care to test it, I'll be happy to spit ya on my steel!"
The crew backed off, avoiding Hook's icy glare as he swept their faces for any that dared to dispute his validity.
"I think the crew just wanted to know where you've been all this time, Capt'n sir....its been a number of years since we saw you gobbled up by that dang blasted crocodile."
"Ah Smee...well that is a long story, and one I don't intend to go into right now. I want a bath, a meal and me bed...in that order."
The crew collectively held their breath.
"NOW!" Hook thundered, the crew scattering to the four winds, slipping and sliding to carry out his requests. Only Smee remained where he was, his knees knocking together as James Hook sauntered over to him and extended his wickedly sharp hook to tilt Smee's chin upwards.
"I expect this deck to be swabbed and sparkling before noon tomorrow Mister Smee, or necks will be stretched."
"Of course Capt'n, swabbed and sweet in time for lunch."
"Exactly Smee." Hook draped his arm companionably around the shorter man's shoulders, turning them both to walk towards the Captain's Cabin. "Tell me what's been happening since my....demise."
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Wendy groaned as she cracked an eye open to survey the wreckage of the bedroom. The chatter of monkeys climbing over the thatched roof sounded unnaturally loud and Wendy held her hands over her ears to shut out their noise.
"Go away you wretched animals....Peter?"
Peering over the side of the bed, she noted that the bed covers were where they had been the night before, but of Peter there was not sign. Looking above her head, she noted that the knife was missing also. Glaring at the bright sunlight that seemed to taunt her, Wendy picked up the scattered bed covers and heaped them back on the bed.
"Are you there Peter?"
Wandering out into the living room, she found it as empty as the other room, no evidence of any other inhabitants, human or otherwise. Above her head the monkeys continued to make a feast of the flower strewn roof for their breakfast, the occasional thump making Wendy duck her head and glare up at the ceiling as if expecting a furry body to plummet through the thatch.
Grumbling to herself, she plopped down into one of the chairs, uncaring of her attractively messy bed-hair or sadly crumpled nighty. A rumble from her midsection reminded her of breakfast and she got up to investigate the fish from the previous night. It was still safely wrapped in banana leaves so she carried it back to the table and sat picking at the flesh morosely. Above, the monkeys had finished their repast and clambered down, swinging effortlessly past the windows to the ground below, all the while chattering to each other. After they had gone Wendy almost wished them back, the silence of the little house suddenly oppressive. Having consumed the fish, she licked her fingers as she wandered back into the bedroom, contemplating her wardrobe for the day. Looking at her grubby things kicked into the corner, she wrinkled her pretty nose and sighed hugely.
"Ugh.....washing."
Gathering up the few items, she snagged a bar of soap and tottered out of the house and down to the pond. The flowers nodded cheerfully to her as she passed, their petals brushing her legs below the hem of her nightgown, their perfume scenting the morning air.
After performing her own ablutions, Wendy tied her hair back with a length of ribbon before rolling her sleeves up and commencing to beat the dirt out of her crumpled clothes. The act of washing, necessarily violent, helped to ameliorate some of the frustration caused by the previous night. She had a fair idea of who had taken part in frightening her half to death, and also knew why. Wringing the wet clothes out, she imagined someone else's neck between her hands as she twisted, her teeth gritted in glee as she pictured a certain Indian Princess turning an interesting shade of green as Wendy choked the life out of her. Releasing the tortured cloth, Wendy huffed, a smile crooking the corner of her pleasingly plump lips. She remembered being jealous of Tiger Lily on her previous visit, her easy camaraderie with Peter born of years of knowing each other. It was only the offhand way that Peter behaved around the Indian girl that stopped Wendy wanting to scratch the girls admittedly beautiful brown eyes out. After hearing from the boy himself how Tiger Lily had been making the moves on him, Wendy felt a fierce urge to do something violent to the Indian girl, to impress upon her that Peter belonged to Wendy and no other, certainly no cow-eyed squaw. Finding her hands gripped unnecessarily tightly around the remains of her negligee, Wendy relaxed and shook the abused fabric out, noting with dismay the wrinkles from the harsh squeezing.
"Oh drat....it'll take forever for those to drop out."
Gathering up her damp laundry, she walked over to a convenient tree with branches low enough to hang her clothes from. Draping them over the foliage, she started to hum to herself, lulled by the peace of the meadow and the warmth of the morning sun. Her previously agitated nerves released their murderous intentions.
"Wendy?"
She shrieked and jumped several inches, spinning around with her hand pressed to her throat to find Peter right behind her, his face registering his shock at her reaction.
"Sorry...I didn't mean to frighten you."
"Oh Peter....good grief, you shouldn't sneak up on a body like that."
"I didn't sneak....you just didn't hear me."
Gathering her shattered composure around her, Wendy smiled at his hurt tone, noting that he was looking none the worse for his bump on the head. In his arms were a selection of exotic looking fruit. Seeing her interested look, he grinned crookedly and held the colourful bundle out for her inspection.
"I brought breakfast."
Finding that her heart wasn't about to jump right out of her chest, Wendy selected one of the bounty and bit into it with relish.
Suddenly conscious of her disheveled state, Wendy attempted to tame her disordered hair while tugging at her crumpled night dress.
"Why didn't you wake me this morning?"
Peter blushed, shrugging nonchalantly. "I needed to.....I was....um..."
Wendy smiled. "Let's get this back to the cabin. I don't suppose you thought to get some more clothes for me?" She held out the sides of her nightgown and smiled ruefully.
"Well, actually......" Peter grinned back at her surprised look. "They're back at the on."
With the fruit clasped in one arm, Peter took her hand and tugged her towards the hidden house, Wendy tripping along behind him, eager to see what he'd found for her.
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Smee chivied the crew as they manfully worked to clean the decks and put the ship back into a seaworthy state before the noon deadline. They had all been at it since the unlooked for return of their Captain in the dead of night. The man himself was still in his cabin, having partaken of a sizable breakfast before allowing Smee to shave him. Now it was mid-morning and Smee was fairly sure that all would be ready for the inspection.
"Shine that bell 'till you can see your ugly mug in it Billy!"
"Right you are Mister Smee sir.....we'll be able to eat our dinner off the deck before too long!"
"Let's hope so Billy....." Smee tugged at the kerchief around his neck, imagining the rope if everything wasn't ready.
A flock of gulls flew over head, crying and screeching. One had the temerity to splatter its droppings on the just-washed planks, inviting a flurry of sailors to mop up the mess in record time. Pulling out a large spotted handkerchief, Smee mopped his forehead while shaking his fist at the departing birds.
In his cabin, Hook listened to his crew working diligently around the ship. He sniffed delicately, still finding the faint aroma of seaweed permeating his person, despite employing a gallon of cologne in his bath to kill the smell. Twitching a fall of lace back into position, Hook surveyed his cabin, taking pleasure in having his things around him once more. When Smee had asked him where he'd been for the last couple of years, Hook had been unable to answer his first mate. All he could clearly remember was the sound of the children chanting (Old, alone, done for) and the sight of the lone figure on the spar watching him fall to his doom, the sudden blackness as the crocodiles jaws snapped shut around him. After that his memory was a blank before he awoke, back aboard his ship in the dead of night, encased in slimy, cold seaweed.
During his lengthy soak in the tub, he'd carefully inspected his body for any signs of injury, but apart from his usual and well cataloged collection of scars from past battles, there was nothing new to find.
Lifting his ingeniously designed double cigar holder to his lips, Hook drew the smoke deeply into his lungs, the sharp tang bringing a smile to his mouth before he blew it out in a blue cloud to wreath around his head. With his feet propped up on his desk, his person once more presentable and a fine cigar to puff upon, James Hook felt as if all was once more well in his world. Now if he could just find that scurvy flying brat and rid Neverland of the cocky boy, his hearts desire would be fulfilled. Wrapped up in his pleasant fantasy involving having his hook about the throat of Peter Pan, Hook barely heard the timid knock at his cabin door. Knocking the ash off his cigars, Hook bade the petitioner to enter.
"Ready for your inspection Capt'n." Smee saluted smartly, pulling his ample gut in and sticking his chest out.
"Thank you Smee....assemble the crew, I'll be right out."
Lifting his elegantly shod feet from the edge of his desk, Hook rose to his feet and sauntered towards his cabin door. With a final peek to check his sartorial elegance in the small mirror placed on the wall beside the entrance for just that purpose, Hook twitched slightly at the lush fall of lace at his throat before clamping his cigar holder tightly between his teeth and yanking open the cabin door.
He heard Smee blow the bosun's whistle as he slowly climbed the few stairs up to the main deck, his crew lined up on either side of the deck standing at attention, ready for his inspection. The deck gleamed with spit and polish, the woodwork shining with lustre in the midday sun. The sails were trimmed neatly, the rigging tidied away, all loose flotsam secured. The flag at the head of the mast flapped in the stiffening breeze, the grinning skull leering down at the ships company as her Captain checked both deck and crewman.
Swinging around on his highly polished heel, Hook took his cigar holder out of his mouth and grinned smugly. Smee hovered at his elbow, all but wringing his hands.
"Excellent work Mister Smee....excellent. A ship worthy of her Captain. A measure of rum for you all."
A loud cheer rose from the mens throats as Hook basked in their relief at garnering his good humour. After a few moments, Hook held up his hand and asked for silence.
"Sailors of the Jolly Roger, enjoy your rum, for we sail in an hour. Now that I am back, our objective remains the same. If any of you have information pertaining to the whereabouts of Peter Pan, you may give it to Mister Smee. I have vowed to bring the Pan down, and down he will go, along with anyone who stands in my way!"
Again the crew cheered, slightly less enthusiastically, but no-one wanted to feel the Captains anger, so they faked what they couldn't truthfullyfeel. None wanted to question Hook, some even glad to see a return to their former ordered lives. Certainly none had any love lost for Peter Pan since their previous encounter, despite the cordiality of life since Peter had returned the ship to them. Now it looked as it life was about to pick up where it was left off when Hook had been eaten by the crocodile, and woe to anyone foolish enough to gainsay the inevitable outcome.
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(aha me hearty's......the thot plickens......)(btw wots a lemon? apart from a small, yellow tangy fruit!)