If he was being honest, Peter had no idea what was happening. This is certainly not something that children would do, but he didn’t know whether to hate it or not because this seemed to be the thing he had been anticipating as he and James talked. And it felt good. Ah, but, not that good. It was fine. It was fine. As if in reaction to his thoughts, he pressed into the captain more, grunting a bit into the kiss. His hand tugged more on his shirt, soon just going underneath to feel the skin.
Oh, this was definitly not something that children did, that was for certain. James pulled Peter closer, the muscles of his torso tensing as Peter's hand slid beneath his shirt to brush against his skin. Peter's touch was fire, racing along his skin and skittering up his spine, the touch of an enemy whose lips were locked on his own.
It was only until his lungs were practically begging for air that Peter pulled away. He panted heavily, his mouth slightly open as he stared at James. His cheeks were flushed as his hand still grazed the skin underneath his enemy’s shirt, the other planted on the wall, near James’s head. Peter found himself leaning into the hand at the back of his neck and the hook, licking his lips as he stared at James.
Suddenly, he couldn’t feel the floor beneath him. He glanced down to his feet floating a few inches above the floor. A smile spread across his face as he rose to James’s eye level— for the first time in ages. He could hear Tinkerbell’s bell-like cries of surprise.
Unlike Peter and Tinkerbell's joy, James's eyes narrowed as the flying boy lifted into the air, his gaze finding Peter's, and oh, there were so many emotions in the forget-me-not blue of James's eyes as Peter rose to eye-level with him, but none were the joy of Peter's. But his lips were parted, and he was breathing heavily, the reality of what had just happened not quite sinking in just yet.
The smile turned into a smirk as he watched the shift in James’s expression. Peter rose a bit higher in the air, above him. James tasted sweet from the wine, but at the moment, savoring even a small victory was sweeter all the more.
“Oi, Codfish,” he said, delighted. “How’s it going down there?”
James inhaled through his nose. Exhaled through his mouth. "Panpipes." he said, voice low. They had just kissed. And now Peter, an adult, was flying, and James reached to brush a hand on the scar along his throat. Peter had given him that scar, for growing up. For being an adult. For not being able to fly. And here was Peter. Grown up. An Adult. Flying.
How many times would James curse that life had never been fair to him? How many times had he cursed the stars for it, and received no answers, and no mercy? And PEter had everything.
Peter caught sight of how James touched his scar, and some kind of intoxicating poison shot through his blood. His grin turned giddy, violent.
“Hah!” He flew higher, his muscles rippling underneath his skin. His eyes seemed to elongate, and his teeth looked more sharp as he opened his mouth. “How things have changed, Codfish. Sorry, I guess the rules are different now.” He looked over to the tiny fairy, who had just been watching, entertaining herself the whole time. “Just me and you now, Tink, but that’s fine! Who needs those Lost Boys anyway? I’m still the best! I don’t need them! And you!” He looked down at James again. “You’re still that sad, pathetic little twat from back then, really. The rules may be different, but nothing’s changed about you! Just gotta suck it up and deal with it.”
He flew higher as the rain picked up outside.
