"What’s up, Miguel?"


"I’m glad you have at lease some sense of self-preservation." Wendy snorted, taking a seat next to him on the bed. She looked at Alfie with a small smile before following his gaze to the ceiling again.

"Wouldn’t it be weird if you could see ghosts when you were a baby, but grew out of it?" she mused as he kissed her shoulder, before taking a deep breath when he said he had a question for her. She figured she would cut him off before the conversation and eventual argument started.

"No, I haven’t spoken to my mother and I don’t plan on doing so in the foreseeable future…"


"Like how dogs do?" 

It was something his grandmother had always insisted, her toothless shih tzu’s penchant for barking into the abyss the research she’d based her theory on. Of course, Peter accepted it as absolute fact. 

"My nan’s dog could see ghosts. His name was Bouncer. Always let us know when there was a new Casper in the house." 

Peter frowned, that wasn’t what he was talking about. 

"Let’s table that conversation for another time, we both know what the other’s gonna say about it. No, I wanted to ask you how you’d feel about you and me getting a place of our own."

He looked from her to Alfie, gesturing to the baby. 

"Maybe bring this one too." He joked, trying to gauge her reaction to his suggestion. 


Plato was going to ask the other man if he had a lighter he could borrow, but after seeing that display, he took a quick step back. He had no wish to be assaulted.


Peter straightened his posture, tucking the note into the back pocket of his shorts. Glancing up, he noted Plato’s expression being close to what he imagined a deer in headlights might look. 

"Shop guy, right?" Peter inquired, stepping towards him though he wasn’t trying to impose any sort of threat. 

"Disputes between mates," He explained of his previous actions. 

"You know how it is."

"Sorry, mate." Peter seemed genuinely apologetic as he searched the pockets of the drunk he’d just headbutted in Dark Street, retrieving a fifty pound note that was a little worse for wear. 

He wasn’t usually one for violence, but continuous non-payments and a fist flying at his face had wore his patience thin. 


Tink momentarily stopped cleaning and sat in the same criss cross position as Peter, tying up her long blonde locks and tucked the stray hairs out of her face. A sigh of relief escaped her as Peter continued to talk, there was something about her best friend that made her feel safe. Like he was a giant bubble that pushed all the bad away just for a few moments. His new found fatherhood had boyfriendhood had put a hinder in their time together.

A resentment she would never admit, especially since it brought a secret shame to her.

When he blurted out the obvious horrible name of her future child she instantly perked up, now yelling as loud as he was with the same excitement.  

"DON’T YOU TELL ME DICK TATE AND THE FRYING DUTCHPAN WOULDN’T BE THE GREATEST MAGIC SHOW NAME EVER!" she laughed, catching the ball of clothes and throwing a flip flop at him. "I can see you with a bunch of kids." she commented. "You like people too much to not have a big family." she pointed out. 


"That.." He paused, processing this monumental discovery in the dedicated time it deserved."

"Would actually be fucking wicked. I’d see it. Sounds like they’d make a boat disappear. I love magic shows. We should go to a magic show. Think there’s many around?"

Peter had a habit of trailing off topic, chasing his own train of thought and forgetting that that practice could leave people behind. With Tink, he always tried to come back to the point. 

"I don’t know about a bunch," He admitted, bending the flip flop that had just hit his chest a few seconds early before he realised that could wreck it and instead placed it down on the floor beside him. 

"What about you? How many would you have?"


He felt heavier than last time, no longer the newborn in the hospital blanket but still just as beloved. Mary’s voice changed into the one she reserved for babies as she spoke to her grandson, the whimsy and affection clear in every syllable. “There’s grandma’s handsome boy.” She praised, taking in his features and pinpointing which belonged to which lineage. He was more beautiful than she could have ever imagined. “I missed you so, so, so much.” She managed between soft kisses on his forehead. He still had that new baby smell that made Mary’s heart melt into a puddle. “Grandma loves you so much.” She swallowed thickly, getting choked up and teary eyed in the moment before she raised her head and looked at Peter. “Thank you, for this.” 


He wanted to wave his hand dismissively, say it was nothing at all but that seemed unfair to the moment she was having. This wasn’t nothing to her and it made him wish he could be of more use to her and her daughter in an impossible situation. 

Instead, Peter smiled faintly, happy to let the moment linger. 

"It’s okay. I think he missed you too."


Silver stared out to Neverland. She fitted in here, this was her place. It made sense to her, this was a scene she understood. Yeah, she was all types of screwed up but there wasn’t a single person in Neverland who wasn’t. But she got the worry.

"Yeah. This place…" The words were left unsaid but she got it. People got hurt in this place for stupid reasons. People died because of who they were affiliated with. And protecting them all was close to impossible. Sometimes it came down to if the highs was worth the incredible lows that came.

'I’m glad it’s you.'

Silver smiled at that, her face lighting up and the shields crumbling a little, the words sinking in a little bit. It felt nice, to have some form of approval. It wasn’t open arms but it was enough.

"Thanks, Pete."


Peter bumped his hip against hers gently and returned to looking forward, holding the beer bottle in both his hands. 

"Don’t go getting all soft on me, it ruins your badass hitlady rep."

In actual fact, Peter liked these moments with her. They didn’t often manage to steal time together but when they did he felt oddly at peace. 

"Wendy wants to do the whole Christening thing for Alfie, did she tell you?"


Jake nodded along, offering Alfie a small smile before  walking back into his apartment and crashing on the couch. He looked up again to find Peter doting lovingly at his son, staying the smile that would have normally disappeared by then.

“Still very impressive. Good for you Alfie.” He muttered as he picked up at the old boxes of food and empty bottles that littered the table, making it close to presentable enough for a newborn in his opinion before pausing at his last sentence.

Standing up right again, he looked pensive before nervous, staring at the floor before back at the two younger Pans in front of him.

“Figured he had a whole kingdom to meet before me. Didn’t feel like interrupting.” 


"Nah man." 

Peter doubted he’d ever be comfortable with that, the idea of the Darlings being some sort of pseudo-royalty. It only succeeded in making him feel a little more on the outside of it all. 

He followed Jake across the room, foot crunching on the glass neck of a discarded beer bottle. 

"Fuck," He exclaimed before he could stop himself, moving Alfie a little in his arms. 

"Not fuck, I didn’t say that. Here man, take him and I’ll sort that out."

He didn’t leave his brother much of a choice in the matter as he passed Alfie too him and went to find a brush or something that would work to make the place less like a death trap. 


"No, I’m sorry," Plato said, glancing at the customer from his perch behind the register. "We don’t have any phone chargers at the moment."


"Alright.." Peter said slowly, finding the tidbit of information a bit strange. 

"I’m asking have you got any burner phones though. Y’know, use them and toss them sort."


Wendy had been sitting cross-legged on the floor across the room, surrounded by a sea of clean onesies, checking the tags and trying to make a pile of the ones Alfie had already grown his way out of. Every so often, she looked over at Peter and Alfie, her boys, with a fond smile before returning to her work.

When Peter called her over, Wendy rolled her eyes as she rose to her feet. 

"Your lady?" she snorted as she walked over to the bed, looking at the ceiling as both of them seemed to be doing. "What are we looking at?"


"My bitch just seemed like it might get me throat punched." Peter explained with a shrug, gaze shifting to her face with a laugh.

"I dunno what you’re looking at, strange one."

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her shoulder, his hands keeping a hold on Alfie who seemed happy to just observe. 

"Wanted to ask you about something."