Author's Note: Eeeeeeeeeep! This is where I really start loving this story over and over and over again. :-D I've said it several times, and I'll say it again, I'm having WAY too much fun writing this! Someone may have to take it away from me if I get too carried away (callieandjack and Catchathief I'm looking at you). I may go through withdrawal symptoms - hands shaking, feeling weak, fever, sweaty - but in the long run... Who am I kidding? DON'T YOU DARE TAKE THIS STORY AWAY FROM ME!

Back to Cass

Where was I? Lost my train of thought. So easily distracted I can be in the mornings. Oh! Right! Callie and Steve were dancing weren't they? Yeah… awesome.

That was about the last peaceful moment I'd have for… I'm not entirely sure how long.

After a spin and a dip, I clapped for Steve and Callie's little performance. They smiled and laughed at my sort of groggy face and disheveled hair looking so excited—and at least slightly wired from over-exhaustion and a little too much sugar from the hot chocolate.

The day passed as relatively uneventfully as possible in a Tower full of superheroes. After dinner with my family, I crawled into bed.

I guess by now you're wondering how Callie and myself came to live with the Avengers huh? I'll give you the SparkNotes version. I was a fourteen-year-old from Utah on a quick vacation to Las Vegas to see the Lion King with my aunt, sister, and mother. After the play we went back to our hotel. Tony Stark was there—waiting for us. He told my mom I was his long-lost cousin and I needed to come with him for a couple years for protection—from what he didn't say and still hasn't said. It took a while, but eventually Mom gave in and let me come. I'm not actually his cousin, he just said that to make it easier on her. He did almost the exact same to Callie. Around the same time. We've been in the Avengers Tower ever since.

Curling up under my covers, I was starting to get comfortable.

Then the pipes started. It was a haunting melody. Probably played by a set of reed pipes. My eyes snapped open and I rolled out of bed. It was coming from the door that separated my apartment from the elevator and the entrance to Callie's. It was almost in a daze that I slipped out of my bedroom and across the open floor. Slowly I eased the door open, eyes glazed and tired.

There was nothing in the little space between the two doors and the elevator—not even one of Callie's or my shoes. And the haunting, eerie tune had moved. Now it was in the elevator shaft. I pressed the button and waited for the thing to come for me. When it did, I stepped in.

The sound was rising. I didn't know how far it would go, so I waited.

A button on the panel pressed itself. 112. The floor we had the party on. As the elevator began to follow the music, it got louder. The same simple phrase of song was playing over and over.

Ding! The pleasant sound of the elevator arriving at its floor interrupted the haunting melody. It only paused for a second before starting up again. It was coming from the shadows near the door that led out to the Iron Man landing pad. My bare feet making no noise as I crossed the cold hardwood, my face was blank and I didn't really even know why I was doing this—or what I was doing. The one part of my brain that had remained rational was shouting at me to get a grip. Why are you following the song?! it demanded. I couldn't answer it. I didn't know why.

Climbing up the stairs and opening the door, the skin that was exposed—just hands, feet, neck and head—was assaulted by chilly September air. After a few moments, the temperature crept up the satin of my leopard-skin-patterned jammies. I felt gooseflesh crawl up the rest of my body, even lifting up the hairs on my scalp.

A figure appeared at the end of the path, in the middle of the landing pad, emerging from the shadows of the night. His back was to me. He had thick light brown hair that was pretty short, but still brushed his ears. Powerful but slim shoulders flexed as he held the pipes to his lips. He wore a shirt of patchy greens, light brown trousers, and pale green boots that laced all the way up his knees. There were leather cuffs—slightly similar to the one I myself wore (one Tony bought for me at ComicCon for my seventeenth birthday)—on each of his wrists. His skin was pale, and strong, wiry muscles moved underneath it. He was tall, but not Thor tall. Of course, no one was tall compared to Thor except Sam Winchester.

When he turned to face me, I froze, coming back to my senses even though he was still playing the alluring, spooky tune.

It was Peter Pan. Or rather, Robbie Kay. There were those blue eyes that appeared almost green in the right lights. There was that narrow face and those full lips I had a vague fantasy about kissing the night before. And the ears that kind of stuck out like he hadn't quite grown into them.

To be honest, despite the fact that I have the imagination of a five-year-old, my first thought was this was a prank Tony had come up with. I knew the tune from the Once Upon a Time episode four in season three. Earlier in the day I'd even learned how to play it on my flute. And if I could figure it out by ear, so could he. But there was one thing that didn't quite add up.

I hadn't told anyone—not even Callie or Loki—that I was harboring that crush. They wouldn't know who to send me to play the prank. Unless they remembered that I was majorly crushing on Hook when we watched season two—then they would've sent Hook. Not Peter Pan.

When he caught me staring at him—dumbfounded—a slow, terrible smirk spread up his face. He stopped playing the pipes and placed them on a hook on his belt. "Hello Cass," he greeted.

"Robbie?" I edged.

"Who?"

Then my imagination hit a wall so hard it started reeling. What if Once Upon a Time was real?!It didn't seem likely, but it wasn't impossible. I mean, I was dating a legend—an old Norse god. "No. Sorry. You're Peter Pan," I amended. Another, wider smirk and a bounce of those very flexible eyebrows.

"There you go."

"So what are you doing here?" The small talk was aggravating, but I couldn't think of anything else to say. What do you say to the main character of your favorite fairy tale who apparently just so happens to be a lying, manipulative demon that was hotter than most of the men I'd ever seen in my entire life? See? You'd probably struggle to find something to say too.

"The pipes can only be heard by children who feel lost, lonely, or unloved," Peter Pan said.

"I've never felt unloved in my life," I sassed.

"No, I don't imagine you have. But that was an 'or.' Do you feel lost or lonely?"

Now that he mentioned it, I did. I was lost and lonely. I didn't know what to do. I didn't even know when I'd see my mother, father, sister, cousins, anyone again. I had the Avengers, Loki, and Callie, but I missed my family and just felt misplaced. "Yes. I do," I admitted.

"No wonder you can hear the song," he remarked, his own sass coming out. "You're just a little Lost Girl."

Okay. That was going too far. I may have only been five-foot-one, but I was NOT LITTLE! My dark eyes narrowed dangerously. "I'm not 'little' okay? I may be short, but you're still beneath me!" I snapped at him. He smirked. His form flickered and he was suddenly standing right in front of me—more than a little too close for comfort.

He fingered the satin lapels of my jammies and lowered his head down until it was almost touching mine. "You know, you've got fire. I like fire," he purred in my ear, his lips brushing my skin.

My face slackened. "You put that note on my desk?" I demanded, shoving him away from me enough that I could see his face. His lips drew up into another smirk and his left eyebrow lifted. It was a face I wanted to kiss and smack at the same time. Kiss because it was intensely attractive, seductive and sexy, smack because it was patronizing, arrogant, and irritating.

"That I did, love," he replied, licking his lips slowly. My urge to kiss him spiked at the leisurely movement.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, pressing my impulsive side—that rarely made an appearance but at the moment was dominating my brain—into the back of my mind as hard as I could. "Why are we talking?"

"Because two days ago I felt different. Something in my magic reacted to something here. Something connected to you. I flew here from Never Land to investigate. When I came, I found you. Watching something in that magic black box on the wall with a lot of men and a few girls. I was on that projection. I had to stay and find out what that was." He was still awkwardly close to me, but slowly my discomfort was wearing off.

"A TV show," I answered. "It's called Once Upon a Time. A retelling of classic fairy tales."

"Right. Okay." He leaned close to me again and this time instead of his lips brushing my ear, they trailed over the skin of my cheek nearest my ear. "I'll be back at night." Pulling back, he gave me a wink and vanished.

A blush crept over my face, spreading from the point where Peter's lips had touched the side of it. It warmed my ears and sent a shiver up and down my body.

End Note: *Squeaks* Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh! I love this so much! More fun and shenanigans coming soon! Love you guys! You're all AWESOME!

Thanks for reading!

~Cass