#darlingfire

“I thought we’d made plans to meet at the diner.”  Her back was turned to the house.  He made sure that he wasn’t walking too quietly so she wouldn’t be startled when he wrapped his arms around her.  He frowned when he realized that she was only wearing a thin cardigan. “What the hell?  Wen, you’re freezing.”

“You can see Orion this time of year.”  It was a perfect cloudless night.  When he’d lived in New York it was rare to notice the stars but there was very little in Storybrooke Maine to block them.  “Second star to the right.”  

“There’s no one there to come for you anymore.”  He shrugged out of his coat to wrap it around her.

“I used to wait for night, in the winter.  Wait for the stars to come out because then at least I could see the faint glow of Neverland.  Sometimes it was as close as I could get to my brothers.  He didn’t let me see them very often.”  She began to shake; he hoped it was because of the body heat seeping back into her.

“The boys are playing with Henry right now.  They’re probably throwing popcorn or begging for pizza.”  They’d adapted well to this world and this century.  He was grateful they hadn’t had to stumble around on their own, like he had.  “They’re safe, and so are you.  Let’s got you inside where it’s warmer, though, or you won’t be safe from a cold.”

“I was early tonight.”  She didn’t move.  “I was about to go in and wait for you but the pirate was there.”

“Hook?”  His stomach sank.  “Did he say something to you?”

“He didn’t even see me, not today.  Sometimes when Pan wanted to see me he would send Hook and his ship.”

“I didn’t realize you knew him before.”  Maybe he hadn’t wanted to think about it, or the implications of so many stories in this world telling of Wendy and Hook knowing each other.

“He was good at listening.  He seemed good at listening.  I thought maybe he was an ally.”  She was still shaking, so he took off his scarf.  He knew she had a story that needed telling but if it lasted much longer he was carrying her inside.

“He wasn’t?”  He didn’t even notice the cold.

“I kissed him once, when we were sailing away from Neverland.  I thought maybe I wouldn’t feel so lonely.”

“Wendy.”  His hand was on her shoulder; he wanted her to look at him.  He needed to look at her.

“It wasn’t right.  I didn’t feel anything for him.  I apologized.  He said we could still have fun.”  Finally she relented and turned.  There was just enough moonlight that he could see the tear falling down her face. “He said I was frigid, when he kissed me again and I wouldn’t do more.  Wondered if Peter had taken my heart.”

“There is nothing wrong with you.”  He had a truce with Killain, because he’d helped rescue Henry, John, and Michael.  The boys, all three of them, were more important than his past and feelings of betrayal.  More important than his papa’s anger.  But they weren’t more important than Wendy.  “Nothing he says is true.  Please tell me you know that.”

“I worked for Pan for a century. Sometimes I wished he had taken my heart, it would have been easier.”  After the first glance she wasn’t looking at him.  He wiped away her tear with his thumb and slid his hand down to her chin, tugging it up gently.  “You did what you had to do to keep your family safe, and you wished to be free of your heart because you felt too much.  Loved so much.”

“I was so lonely, Bae.  The next time Pan sent him for me Hook called me an ice queen.  I almost kissed him again because at least the anger was better than being alone.”  Almost.  He held onto that one word.

“You’re not alone now, Wendy.”  Even her lips were cold, when he kissed her.  “C’mon, we need to get you warmed up.”

“I’m sorry about tonight.”  When he took her hand she followed him into the cottage, eyes cast down.

“The only thing that mattered about tonight was spending time with you.  I love you, Wen.”  He’d never get tired of being able to say it.  He didn’t remember loving his mother, only missing the vague idea of having a mother.  He’d missed and mourned his papa, even under the overwhelming anger the love was stronger.  He’d loved Morraine.  Giving up Emma’s love and knowing she would hate him for it hurt like hell.  But it was being ripped away from Wendy that had hurt the most.  He thought that he’d found his home and then it was gone.

Now he had it back.

“I think a shower would be the best idea.”  He led her down the hall to the only bathroom in the cottage, heading straight for the shower to warm it up.  Wendy didn’t make any move to take off her clothes so he helped her, starting with his own jacket and scarf.  The cardigan was next; under it was a dress of pale green lace.  It hugged her form and dipped down low enough to show just a hint of cleavage.  She’d worn it for him.  “You look amazing.”

“Belle took me shopping for some new things.  She’s very nice.”  The hairs on Wendy’s arms were standing up; fortunately steam was starting to billow out of the shower.

“Yeah, she is.”  He liked Belle.  It was complicated, because any relationship he formed with Belle bound him closer to his father, but he couldn’t fault his papa’s taste.  “Do you want me to go?”

Her hand clasped his forearm, holding him tightly.  It seemed like an answer.  “Tell me what you need, Wen.”

“Cold.”  Her teeth chattered slightly when she opened her mouth.

“The shower’s ready.”  He lowered the zipper once he found it hiding on the side of the dress.  Under there were barely scraps of cream-colored lace; he hoped she could handle those herself because he wanted to do more than take them off.  He wanted to touch.

“You warm me up more than any shower, Neal.  Please?”  She bit her lower lip when she tugged at his shirt, managing to undo a couple of buttons.  

“You get started, okay?  I’ll join you.”  He needed just a second to get himself under control.  Her voice when she spoke of him warming her up and her hands on him were working to make his pants tight.  He needed to take care of her, not himself.

“Better?”  Neal was pretty sure that the work he’d gone to not be aroused was going to last, at best, two minutes.  The warm water had colored her skin pink and her head was tilted back, eyes closed, as she got her hair wet.

“What do you think?”  Her palm flat against his chest was warm.  Her arms, when she shifted to wrap them both around his neck, were warm too.

“You had me worried.  I don’t want anything to happen to you.”  It was early still.  They’d only been together months and the boys were still getting used to this town and this century.  But he had every intention of marrying her, someday.  He was in it for the long haul.

“Whatever I did to deserve you, I hope I find a way to keep doing it.”  Against his chest she shivered again.  He carefully loosened her grip and bent down to turn the hot water on a little higher.

“You saved me, Wen.  That’s what you did.”  He found the soap, using it on his hands so he could rub her skin, making sure she was warm.  It was easy enough when it was her arms, and not bad to caress her back, but then she turned back to face him.  

“You saved me too, Bae.”  When she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him her whole body rubbed against him.  There was absolutely no way to deny how much he wanted her, no matter what his intentions had been for the shower.  “I’m not cold anymore but I wouldn’t mind being hotter.”

“We can’t, not in the… it wouldn’t be safe.”  It had never come up before, not when there was only one bathroom and John and Michael were in the cottage.  But things were slippery and she was tiny, and he couldn’t think of anything that didn’t involve picking her up.  

“We could figure something out.”  Her hand wrapped around his erection, and any argument he had was lost.  She was right, the temperature was rising and it wasn’t about the steam.  It was about fingers and mouths and a perfect rhythm that had him dizzy from her touch.  He made her just as dizzy, his fingers curled inside her and his tongue on her neck until he felt her shudder.  This time it wasn’t from the cold.

“You alright?” he asked when she caught herself with a hand to the tile wall.

“I feel lovely.  And warm.  And hungry.  Someone promised me dinner tonight,” she teased as she reached down to turn off the water.

“Hey, I was there.”  He pulled her to him, kissing the nape of her neck before letting her go and handing her a towel.

“Then I guess I owe you dinner.  I’m afraid I don’t have much more than cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, though.  Michael’s become a bit obsessed with cheese sandwiches.”

“Cheese sandwiches sound perfect.”  They sounded like a feast, which was good because he was suddenly starving.  “And then, just to make sure you don’t catch a cold, we should probably go to bed.”

“What if I’m not tired, though?  Will you tell me a story?”  She stepped out of the shower and bent over to dry her legs.  Dinner, he hoped, would be quick.

“Are you sure he’d want to spend time with us on Thanksgiving?”  She’d eaten an ice cream cone with him once, and talked a handful of times with Neal’s son.  Mostly, though, she’d watched from afar.  He’d never been to the cottage.

“I think Emma’s family is doing something at dinner time, but if we could make it more of a late lunch he could be there.  He wanted to know if we could have dinner sometime but I don’t really have a place.”  He was staying at Granny’s and though he spoke of looking for a place he never did.  If it wasn’t for the boys she would have asked him to move in already but couple was one thing and pseudo father to two more boys was another.  “It would mean a lot to me for him to spend time with you and the boys.  I want him to know more about the things and people that are important to me.”

“Oh Bae, of course.”  The boys had come in then, eager with their invitation and more certain than she had been of his answer.

He would be arriving any minute with Henry and the turkey wasn’t cooking.  Thanksgiving was supposed to have turkey but the oven was barely warm and the turkey was the same pale beige it had been an hour and a half ago.  She tried everything in her admittedly small arsenal, but while the pots on the stove were boiling the oven seemed quite dead.

She dialed Neal’s number, hoping to catch him before he had driven over, but she could hear the ringing from the other side of the door.  She hung up the phone and answered the door.  “Do you think they still have a table at Granny’s?”

“What’s wrong?”  When he wrapped his arms around her she couldn’t help leaning into him.  Other men often made her feel small by their height, but Neal made her feel protected and treasured.

“The turkey is raw and the Yorkshire pudding are still batter.  Maybe the oven is dead or maybe I’m just helpless.”  She wanted to keep holding on but she was too aware that Neal’s son was watching them.  “Welcome Henry.”

“I don’t like turkey very much, actually.  We’re having venison for dinner because Graham went hunting and my grams says that it’s the proper kind of food for a feast.”  Henry looked so much like his father, hands in his pockets and hopeful expression on his face.  She couldn’t help smiling back at him.

“It’s a good thing we don’t need to oven to make hot chocolate.  Your dad told me you were a fan and so am I.  We used to drink it in the nursery, when I lived in London.  Your dad had never had it before.”  Sometimes the days in the nursery seemed five lifetimes ago, and sometimes they were still the most vivid memories of her life and she had to open her eyes to look where she was in the morning because she felt like she was still in that bed.

“Cool.”

“Henry come see our room.”  Michael came running, John just behind him, and Henry didn’t have a chance to take off his coat before he was dragged off to the bedroom her brother’s shared.  John and Henry were almost the same age, though her brother was smaller and behind him a grade in school.  She’d decided that it would be better not to push him when he still needed to figure out what this world was like.  

“You know we’re not here for the food, Wen.”  He pulled her to him again, the kiss to the top of her head soothing, the hand that drifted down to stroke her ass just teasing enough to make her smile.

“I wanted it to be perfect.  For the boys, and for you.”  She didn’t know if he’d celebrated the holiday at all, but she did know he’d eaten far too many meals alone.

“My kid, who wants to call me dad even though we only met a couple of months again, is in the other room playing with your brothers who are both safe and free of my psychotic grandfather.  My papa, well that’s a bit more complicated but he’s not dead to me anymore and we have time to sort things out, thanks in large part to Belle.  Emma’s willing to let me be in our kid’s life, she even invited me to dinner tonight.  And if I’m really lucky then tonight I get to come back here and hold the woman I love all night long.  How could today be anything other than perfect?”  

“You’re going to make me cry.”  She was glad she’d never gotten used to this world’s idea of makeup; she could already feel the tears threatening.

“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”  

“What?”  She couldn’t help but giggle when he looked at her seriously but said something that made no sense.

“It’s impossible to cry and say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.  I like it better when you laugh.”  His hand slipped into hers and he tugged her towards the kitchen.  “We have bread, and that’s an absolute feast.  When you used to sneak me rolls they were the best thing I ever tasted.”