Author's Note: Sorry for the wait. I tried to make this one longer and, hopefully, more in depth, but I guess how efficiently I achieved that is really up to you. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the story of Peter Pan.

Captain Hook pulled Wendy into his cabin and quietly closed the door behind him. Then, turning towards her, he pulled a switchblade from his pocket and cut off the ropes binding her arms together. Finally, he looked up at her was a friendly, yet somehow still infuriatingly cocky, smile.

"Well, it would seem that I have turned out to be both the savior and the villain all in one day."

Wendy pulled her lips back into a furious snarl and nearly growled,

"You are nothing but a villain who deserves to rot in hell for his bastardly deeds."

Hook looked at her mockingly and clicked his tongue.

"You know, I would've expected much better language from a lady such as yourself. Words like those should only be uttered by my crew. If you're going to speak in such an offending manner then perhaps I should just give you back to the scoundrels."

Wendy scoffed.

"I would much rather be with them than with you."

Hook sneered and turned his back to her.

"Sure you would. I'm absolutely positive you prefer being molested over civil talk."

Wendy glanced at his sturdy back and then at the door. She watched them both carefully for a moment before bolting for the door, hoping to miraculously escape. Hook snickered at her actions, omni potently knowing what her actions were and what she intended to do.

He grabbed her hair and twisted around his hook until she grimaces and cried out in pain. He drew her face back to stare up at his and began to scold her but hesitated, shocked at her steady penetrating glare. Those striking blue irises sucked him in and held him there fast, paralleling the way in which the sea swallowed its victims, luring them in until they were much too far under to be saved.

Wendy fearlessly gazed back into the rogue's eyes, detained by the same surprised fascination he felt. She found such chilling warmth in his strangely beautiful dark eyes. Those shady, curious eyes, full of so many horrible secrets. So many macabre, delicious treasures.

The unlikely couple found themselves caught at the epitome of an indescribable moment. Their lips so close to embracing but logically resisting such an emotional impulse. Their eyes pleading to each other for salvation from their lonely nature. Their bodies yearning to entwine but holding back from their physical needs. They pulled at each other in this silent, motionless tango for what seemed like an eternity.

Hook, giving into his heart and body, pulled her close and attempted to envelop her lips in his.

But Wendy, in contrast, pulled away, defying her instinctive urges and freeing herself from his grasp.

They stared at each other in confusion for a moment until Wendy's logic finally caught up with her body and she murmured,

"You perverted son of a bitch."

An expression of what appeared to be hurt flickered quickly over the Captain's face before he regained his composure, and placed a mock admonishing countenance upon his visage.

"For that, my dear Wendy, I think you've earned yourself a day in the brig."

He swiftly grasped her arm and roughly pushed it behind her back, causing a whimper. Shoving her out of his cabin, he, unbeknownst to her, leaned close to the back of her hair and inhaled the sweet aroma of roses which settled into her soft curls.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Peter looked down at Jane's sleeping figure, a troubled look plaguing his face. He had let her fall asleep in his arms as they continued to lay in the itchy, yet comfortable meadow. His feelings for her were so naïve and so youthful, but deep down Peter felt something so profound he found he had no words for it. And that, he decided was very rare for himself. Peter knew he was aware of most everything in the universe, and when he said everything, he certainly meant everything. He did not think of himself as conceited, just perfectly superior. But, for once, he was feeling at a loss for everything.

For words.

For ideas.

Even for actions.

And that, he knew, was not very characteristic of Peter.

But as he lay there, with the sleeping girl in his arms, he couldn't help but feel helpless. Of course, he had realized how hopeful and joyous this helplessness was, but still, it was also kind of distressing for him. He was not used to ignorance. And he certainly felt ignorant. He could not describe such a feeling. He knew the word but it could not escape his lips.

Sitting there in silence, it finally came to him.

A word he had heard long ago, one he had pretended to know, and thus tricked himself into believing he actually knew it. Now he knew how to apply this word. It seemed so sudden to just plaster it onto the situation but Peter knew, he just knew it was right.

"Love."

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Captain James Hook led Wendy down a cold, damp hallway to an even colder, damper chamber. Except the word chamber would perhaps be putting it too mildly. The term prison cell was probably much more fitting.

"Home sweet home, hm?"

He mumbled, tenderly stroking her arm with his fingers, adoring the feeling of her smooth flesh beneath his calloused, well-worked hands. She closed her eyes and muffled a sound of contentment, not wanting him to know that his touch evoked a kind of primitive desire in her soul.

"Well, in any case, I do so hope you enjoy your cheery accommodations."

He pulled his lips within a bare centimeter of her ear and whispered affectionately,

"Sweet dreams, love."

And as he threw her into the cell, locking the metal bars closed with a bang, Wendy's whole body shuddered at the unthinkable, erotic fantasies she had imagined as his deep, rumbling voice has swept through her sense.