"Goodnight Slightly! Goodnight John," said Wendy coming around to each bed to kiss the boys on the forehead and tuck them in. This part of the evening ritual Wendy enjoyed immensely. Michael, Tootles and Nibs each wrapped their chubby arms around her neck to give her a tight squeeze before closing their eyes. They were so snuggly and hadn't the older boys aversions to hugging yet. Slightly, Curly and the Twins did however kiss her on the cheek with a "Goodnight Mother". They all crawled into their bunks and hammocks, off the main living area.
How ones heart could be so full of love for children who were not her own was a mystery. But there it was. These boys were a part of her now. But she couldn't ruminate on this thought tonight. Her heart may have been full of love for the boys, but there was also a weight and a shadow left over from Peter's words two nights ago. Of course he was right. There would be no more kissing, no more meaningful looks and no more... touching. It hurt but it was safe. The thought of losing any one of them because of her, would be too much to bear.
Peter had been gone for two whole days, and when he'd come back he'd barely looked at Wendy. To make the sting all the more painful, he had talked to her only through the boys. "Tell you mother..." She couldn't hear those words again, and had raised her nose every time Peter had tried.
"Sing us to sleep Mother," came a sleepy voice from one of the twins. She snapped out of her reverie. Each of the boys was nodding eagerly. She sighed. She was ready to climb in her own bunk, away from them and close her eyes. But she couldn't refuse their pleading eyes.
"Very well." Wendy sat down in a chair and began the verses to Tender Shepherd. The lullaby that her, Michael and John's mother used to sing to them every night.
Peter glanced at Wendy. There she went again. Stroking his soul with her sweet voice. It was maddening.
He felt the words of the song moving through him.
Tender Shepherd, watches over all his sheep.
He looked around the lost boys from his perch on his throne. They were snuggled in their bunks, leaning on their gangly elbows and arms listening to Wendy. He thought of their game. They did follow him like little sheep after a shepherd. And they'd fallen even more in line after they'd started their game of "Father and Mother". He'd found his heart softening toward them too. Instead of commanding them, he'd begun to weigh out games and hunts that would be best for them. Training them, teaching them. He shook his head. It was poppycock.
After all they could take care of themselves. He was their leader, the commander. He wasn't their father.
His eyes landed on Tootles the youngest. His black hair, a mess atop his dirty face. If anything ever happened to Tootles say in a pirate game, he knew he would go mad with revenge and rage.
What was happening to him? That's what a father would do, wasn't it? Wasn't that what he had wished for in his deepest places? The places he'd managed to keep locked up until Wendy.
He glanced up at her as she finished her song. No, nothing must ever stand in the way of him protecting his boys. Not even the pulses of desire that pooled low in his stomach. And sometimes lower. Especially when they were outside in the sun. Wendy's hair glossy and seemingly lit from within. She'd pull it back, her arms up, lifting those globes on her front. He'd noticed they'd gotten bigger since being here. He felt the pulse settling in his nethers again.
The thought made him so lonely that he slunk deeper into his chair.
"Wendy?" asked Michael softly as she stood up to walk to her own quarters. "I mean Mother," he said smiling.
"Yes Michael?"
"Why don't you and Father sleep in the same room? Mother and Father used to in London."
Wendy went rigid. Her heart stopped. She dared not look at Peter. She couldn't bear the look that was probably in his eyes.
"Well, Michael…" she started out slowly. "It's just a game. It's not real, only pretend."
"But it's part of the game!" came Curly's voice.
"Well now boys…" started Wendy.
"Yeah, you gotta!" chimed in Slightly.
There came now a chorus of "Yeah's" and protests from each of the beds and hammocks.
She slowly turned to Peter, just to ask him with her eyes to help her. What she found was that same fiery look he'd had in the pool. She stilled like a deer. Finally he spoke.
"It is part of the game Wendy."
Wendy's resolve completely melted at these words. The most words he'd said to her for two days. But she remained frozen to the spot. Peter held out his calloused hand and took hers warm and snug. The tingles that erupted from the contact went straight up both of their arms down to the pit of their stomachs causing them to tremor for a moment.
He led her slowly into his quarters past the bearskin door, but not before Wendy squeaked out a "Goodnight boys!" loathing them and loving them at the same time.