Prince Peter and the Seven Dwarves
Title: Prince Peter and the Seven Dwarves
Fandom: bare, a pop opera
Written: May, 2010
Rating: PG
Words: 2100
Summary: Peter didn't understand a lot of things, but he knew that being a good little boy meant his parents fought less. So, naturally, he tried to be the perfect little boy. And then he made a mistake.
Notes: Innocent, childish crossdressing.
------
Peter never liked it when his parents fought. He didn't like how Daddy ended up shouting to make himself heard or how Mommy sometimes started crying. He didn't like the sound of their voices when they were upset. He didn't like what their faces looked like. He didn't like the way Daddy would crack his knuckles and wag his pointer finger or how Mommy, when the fights were over, would take off her wedding ring and look at it stonily when she thought Peter wasn't looking.
He tried to be a good little boy all the time. He always put his toys away and, when he started preschool, would make sure he always listened to his teacher. He was quiet during storytime, he was neat during snack time, he never got up and walked around during naptime, and cleaned up after himself on fingerpainting days.
Church was harder, but Peter learned to sit through the hour mass without making a fuss. Mommy would sit on one side, Daddy on the other, and he would fidget in between them. Peter didn't understand what went on during mass, but he eventually learned when he was supposed to sit and when he was supposed to stand. He learned to keep his mouth shut unless he was supposed to sing. He learned how to make shadow animals on the floor and not get caught, learned just how distracting stained-glass windows could be.
It was his goal to be the perfect little boy, because when he was good, Mommy would give him hugs and kisses and Daddy would toss the football with him outside. They would spend more time with him and less time together, which meant they weren't fighting.
But then preschool ended and it was summer vacation. Both Mommy and Daddy worked, which meant he needed to go somewhere too. Daddy signed him up for football camp and Mommy picked out a nice art class, and on Thursdays their next-door neighbor Katie would come over to watch him. He liked Katie because she would cut the crusts off his sandwiches and let him watch Snow White and the Seven Dwarves as many times as he wanted. He would put on silly shows for Katie sometimes, where he played all the parts from the movie and sang in a childish soprano.
He tried putting on the same show for Mommy and Daddy after dinner once, but Daddy's eyebrows had met in the middle and Mommy started playing with the hem of her shirt. Peter had rushed through to the end and Mommy clapped a little bit, but Peter found Daddy hiding the Snow White video tape later that night.
Peter hadn't understood what was wrong and why Mommy and Daddy didn't like his show. Katie always laughed and clapped and smiled and told him how funny and creative he was. She started calling him Prince Peter, which made him giggle.
One time Katie brought over an old Snow White costume she said she had worn for Halloween when she was Peter's age. She told Peter that it didn't fit her anymore, but they could dress up his giant stuffed bunny instead. Peter giggled at the thought of putting Mr. Flopsy in a dress, but he took it up to his room anyway. He closed the door ("No peeking, Katie, he'll be naked.") and tried on the dress himself. It was a little short on him, but he liked it anyway. He twirled around in circles, watching himself in the mirror.
Then he poked his head out of his room, saw that Katie wasn't around, and ran into his mom and dad's room, shutting the door behind himself. He was going to surprise Katie and make himself look just like Snow White. Maybe she'd start calling him Princess Peter instead.
He knew Mommy kept her makeup in the second drawer on the right in the bathroom, and it was easy enough to figure out how to use it all. He'd watched his mom put it on before, and nobody was going to notice that he looked more like a clown than a princess. He found Mommy's red headband too and was feeling very proud of himself when he walked downstairs, telling Katie, "Snow White is on her way."
"Well, then, let me see the little bunny princess," Katie's voice came from one room over, and Peter came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, posing just like Snow White. When Katie finally came in and saw him, she gasped and her hand went to her heart.
"Oh my goodness, Peter," she sounded very surprised, but not the good kind of surprised that happened when someone gave you a present. This was the bad kind of surprised that happened when someone got bad news. "Peter," her hand went to her head, "Peter, honey, dresses are for girls. And where did you get the makeup?"
Katie helped him clean up and made him change out of the dress. She asked quietly if he was hungry after his face had been wiped off and he was back in a pair of pants, but Peter said no. He crawled into bed, hugged Mr. Flopsy, and tried to pretend he wasn't crying, because he was four years old and four year olds aren't supposed to cry.
He stayed in his room for the rest of the afternoon, pretending to be asleep when Katie knocked and asked if she could come in. Peter looked at his books and played with his toy cars a little when he stopped crying, but he was too embarrassed to come out of his room. Katie's face had scared him.
When Mommy and Daddy got home, Peter had lingered at the top of the stairs, listening to Katie explain what had happened. "I'm sorry," she was saying. "I didn't know he was going to do all that or I would have kept a closer eye on him. Nothing was broken and everything was put away, so don't worry about that, but he's still very upset about it. He hasn't come out of his room since."
Peter hoped his mommy was going to come up and hold him in her lap, rocking back and forth like she used to do when he was younger. Maybe she would sing him a funny song to cheer him up or let him eat dessert before dinner. He hadn't done anything wrong, right?
But nobody came upstairs. Katie left and as soon as the door closed behind her, Peter's dad started shouting. Peter ran back to his room, scared that Daddy was yelling at him and hoping he could hide under his covers and pretend not to be there. But after a few minutes, he realized that his parents were fighting. Again.
Keeping a tight hold on Mr. Flopsy, Peter went back to his spot at the top of the stairs, trying to figure out what they were yelling about this time.
"I will not stand for this in my house," Daddy was saying, voice stern but at least he wasn't shouting anymore. "No son of mine is going to parade around dressed like a girl!"
"He doesn't know any better!" Mommy insisted. "He's only four years old and he doesn't understand!"
"Don't try to make excuses for him. He's old enough to know that dresses are for girls."
"It was just a silly mistake," Mommy sighed, which meant she wasn't angry anymore, just annoyed. "When have either of us sat him down and told him about gender roles? For goodness sake, he's just a little boy. These are the kind of things he'll learn from."
"What can a boy possibly learn from wearing a dress?" Daddy was shouting again. "He'll start thinking it's normal and next thing you know, our son has a double life as a drag queen and thinks it's okay to prance around like some god-damn fairy."
"You're being unreasonable -"
"Oh, I'm being unreasonable? The boy may only be four, but the signs are already there. His football coach told me - in front of all the other parents, no less - that Peter is the worst football player he's ever seen in all his years of coaching."
"He's only four years old -"
"He told me that my son doesn't understand that tackling is part of the game. No, he's the one that stops what he's doing and helps the other kids up. And you know what? When one of the boys scraped his knee, Peter kissed it to make it better."
"He's just trying to help. And so what if he doesn't like football? You're putting way too much pressure on him; he's just a little boy who doesn't like violent sports!"
"But he kissed another boy!"
"On the knee!" Mommy was angry again. "It's not like you caught two sixteen year old boys going at it in a car!"
"But if we don't put a stop to this, that's what's going to happen! And I will not have my son growing up to be a fag!"
"And you think I want that for him? Listen to me, honey, you aren't thinking clearly. We have a four year old son, a wonderful little boy, and you're acting like one little thing is going to shape his entire future. Yes, there is a chance that he will grow up and… well… but we're raising him right! We take him to church, he's interacting with other children, he's all signed up for preschool in the fall… Honey, we're doing everything we can to raise him the proper way, and if we do that, there's no way he'll grow up and -"
"No. If you're willing to take that chance, then so be it, but God dammit Claire, I will not be a part of that."
Peter heard Daddy's loud footsteps coming closer to the stairs, and he let out a whimper and dashed back to his room. He dove under the covers, arms tight around Mr. Flopsy and eyes shut as tightly as he could. Daddy was going to yell at him, he just knew it. He didn't understand all of what Mommy and Daddy had been saying, but he knew that they had been fighting about him. He knew that it was all his fault, and when something was his fault, he got punished for it.
He heard Daddy walking up the stairs, heard Mommy shouting Daddy's name after him, heard her running after him.
"What are you doing?" he heard Mommy ask. Peter bravely poked his head out from under his covers, squinting out into the hallway and seeing Daddy walk angrily into his and Mommy's bedroom. He heard their squeaky closet door open, heard hangers clanking and something heavy drop on the floor.
"Why are you doing this?" Mommy tried again.
"I just can't deal with this anymore, Claire," Daddy said, his voice muffled, probably because he was half-buried in the closet. "I can't raise a gay son."
"So you're leaving because you're afraid a four year old might like boys too much?" Mommy was angry again, Peter could tell.
"No," Daddy's voice was quiet, but it wasn't muffled anymore. "This has been coming on for a while. I," Daddy sighed, then continued, "I don't love you the way a husband should love his wife. This whole thing with Peter was just another sign telling me it's time to leave."
Daddy and Mommy both stayed quiet after that. Peter held tight to Mr. Flopsy, not sure of what was going on. Daddy was angry and Mommy was sad, he knew that, but he didn't understand why Daddy came out of their room with a suitcase. He didn't understand why Mommy screamed a word he didn't know when he heard Daddy's car start. He watched Daddy's car leave through his bedroom window, not understanding why he felt so sad. Daddy would be back later, right?
Soon it was dark and Peter's stomach was growling for attention and food. Mommy hadn't come to get him for dinner and Daddy still hadn't come back. Peter tiptoed out into the dark hallway, dragging My. Flopsy behind him. He peeked into Mommy and Daddy's bedroom, but nobody was there. He walked down the stairs, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and wished he was tall enough to reach the lightswitch.
But the light in the kitchen was on. Mommy was sitting in a chair, her head resting in her hands. Peter climbed up on the chair next to her and saw her wedding ring sitting on the counter. He knew that she knew he was there, but she made no move to put her ring back on.
That was when Peter knew that Daddy wasn't coming back.
Fandom: bare, a pop opera
Written: May, 2010
Rating: PG
Words: 2100
Summary: Peter didn't understand a lot of things, but he knew that being a good little boy meant his parents fought less. So, naturally, he tried to be the perfect little boy. And then he made a mistake.
Notes: Innocent, childish crossdressing.
------
Peter never liked it when his parents fought. He didn't like how Daddy ended up shouting to make himself heard or how Mommy sometimes started crying. He didn't like the sound of their voices when they were upset. He didn't like what their faces looked like. He didn't like the way Daddy would crack his knuckles and wag his pointer finger or how Mommy, when the fights were over, would take off her wedding ring and look at it stonily when she thought Peter wasn't looking.
He tried to be a good little boy all the time. He always put his toys away and, when he started preschool, would make sure he always listened to his teacher. He was quiet during storytime, he was neat during snack time, he never got up and walked around during naptime, and cleaned up after himself on fingerpainting days.
Church was harder, but Peter learned to sit through the hour mass without making a fuss. Mommy would sit on one side, Daddy on the other, and he would fidget in between them. Peter didn't understand what went on during mass, but he eventually learned when he was supposed to sit and when he was supposed to stand. He learned to keep his mouth shut unless he was supposed to sing. He learned how to make shadow animals on the floor and not get caught, learned just how distracting stained-glass windows could be.
It was his goal to be the perfect little boy, because when he was good, Mommy would give him hugs and kisses and Daddy would toss the football with him outside. They would spend more time with him and less time together, which meant they weren't fighting.
But then preschool ended and it was summer vacation. Both Mommy and Daddy worked, which meant he needed to go somewhere too. Daddy signed him up for football camp and Mommy picked out a nice art class, and on Thursdays their next-door neighbor Katie would come over to watch him. He liked Katie because she would cut the crusts off his sandwiches and let him watch Snow White and the Seven Dwarves as many times as he wanted. He would put on silly shows for Katie sometimes, where he played all the parts from the movie and sang in a childish soprano.
He tried putting on the same show for Mommy and Daddy after dinner once, but Daddy's eyebrows had met in the middle and Mommy started playing with the hem of her shirt. Peter had rushed through to the end and Mommy clapped a little bit, but Peter found Daddy hiding the Snow White video tape later that night.
Peter hadn't understood what was wrong and why Mommy and Daddy didn't like his show. Katie always laughed and clapped and smiled and told him how funny and creative he was. She started calling him Prince Peter, which made him giggle.
One time Katie brought over an old Snow White costume she said she had worn for Halloween when she was Peter's age. She told Peter that it didn't fit her anymore, but they could dress up his giant stuffed bunny instead. Peter giggled at the thought of putting Mr. Flopsy in a dress, but he took it up to his room anyway. He closed the door ("No peeking, Katie, he'll be naked.") and tried on the dress himself. It was a little short on him, but he liked it anyway. He twirled around in circles, watching himself in the mirror.
Then he poked his head out of his room, saw that Katie wasn't around, and ran into his mom and dad's room, shutting the door behind himself. He was going to surprise Katie and make himself look just like Snow White. Maybe she'd start calling him Princess Peter instead.
He knew Mommy kept her makeup in the second drawer on the right in the bathroom, and it was easy enough to figure out how to use it all. He'd watched his mom put it on before, and nobody was going to notice that he looked more like a clown than a princess. He found Mommy's red headband too and was feeling very proud of himself when he walked downstairs, telling Katie, "Snow White is on her way."
"Well, then, let me see the little bunny princess," Katie's voice came from one room over, and Peter came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, posing just like Snow White. When Katie finally came in and saw him, she gasped and her hand went to her heart.
"Oh my goodness, Peter," she sounded very surprised, but not the good kind of surprised that happened when someone gave you a present. This was the bad kind of surprised that happened when someone got bad news. "Peter," her hand went to her head, "Peter, honey, dresses are for girls. And where did you get the makeup?"
Katie helped him clean up and made him change out of the dress. She asked quietly if he was hungry after his face had been wiped off and he was back in a pair of pants, but Peter said no. He crawled into bed, hugged Mr. Flopsy, and tried to pretend he wasn't crying, because he was four years old and four year olds aren't supposed to cry.
He stayed in his room for the rest of the afternoon, pretending to be asleep when Katie knocked and asked if she could come in. Peter looked at his books and played with his toy cars a little when he stopped crying, but he was too embarrassed to come out of his room. Katie's face had scared him.
When Mommy and Daddy got home, Peter had lingered at the top of the stairs, listening to Katie explain what had happened. "I'm sorry," she was saying. "I didn't know he was going to do all that or I would have kept a closer eye on him. Nothing was broken and everything was put away, so don't worry about that, but he's still very upset about it. He hasn't come out of his room since."
Peter hoped his mommy was going to come up and hold him in her lap, rocking back and forth like she used to do when he was younger. Maybe she would sing him a funny song to cheer him up or let him eat dessert before dinner. He hadn't done anything wrong, right?
But nobody came upstairs. Katie left and as soon as the door closed behind her, Peter's dad started shouting. Peter ran back to his room, scared that Daddy was yelling at him and hoping he could hide under his covers and pretend not to be there. But after a few minutes, he realized that his parents were fighting. Again.
Keeping a tight hold on Mr. Flopsy, Peter went back to his spot at the top of the stairs, trying to figure out what they were yelling about this time.
"I will not stand for this in my house," Daddy was saying, voice stern but at least he wasn't shouting anymore. "No son of mine is going to parade around dressed like a girl!"
"He doesn't know any better!" Mommy insisted. "He's only four years old and he doesn't understand!"
"Don't try to make excuses for him. He's old enough to know that dresses are for girls."
"It was just a silly mistake," Mommy sighed, which meant she wasn't angry anymore, just annoyed. "When have either of us sat him down and told him about gender roles? For goodness sake, he's just a little boy. These are the kind of things he'll learn from."
"What can a boy possibly learn from wearing a dress?" Daddy was shouting again. "He'll start thinking it's normal and next thing you know, our son has a double life as a drag queen and thinks it's okay to prance around like some god-damn fairy."
"You're being unreasonable -"
"Oh, I'm being unreasonable? The boy may only be four, but the signs are already there. His football coach told me - in front of all the other parents, no less - that Peter is the worst football player he's ever seen in all his years of coaching."
"He's only four years old -"
"He told me that my son doesn't understand that tackling is part of the game. No, he's the one that stops what he's doing and helps the other kids up. And you know what? When one of the boys scraped his knee, Peter kissed it to make it better."
"He's just trying to help. And so what if he doesn't like football? You're putting way too much pressure on him; he's just a little boy who doesn't like violent sports!"
"But he kissed another boy!"
"On the knee!" Mommy was angry again. "It's not like you caught two sixteen year old boys going at it in a car!"
"But if we don't put a stop to this, that's what's going to happen! And I will not have my son growing up to be a fag!"
"And you think I want that for him? Listen to me, honey, you aren't thinking clearly. We have a four year old son, a wonderful little boy, and you're acting like one little thing is going to shape his entire future. Yes, there is a chance that he will grow up and… well… but we're raising him right! We take him to church, he's interacting with other children, he's all signed up for preschool in the fall… Honey, we're doing everything we can to raise him the proper way, and if we do that, there's no way he'll grow up and -"
"No. If you're willing to take that chance, then so be it, but God dammit Claire, I will not be a part of that."
Peter heard Daddy's loud footsteps coming closer to the stairs, and he let out a whimper and dashed back to his room. He dove under the covers, arms tight around Mr. Flopsy and eyes shut as tightly as he could. Daddy was going to yell at him, he just knew it. He didn't understand all of what Mommy and Daddy had been saying, but he knew that they had been fighting about him. He knew that it was all his fault, and when something was his fault, he got punished for it.
He heard Daddy walking up the stairs, heard Mommy shouting Daddy's name after him, heard her running after him.
"What are you doing?" he heard Mommy ask. Peter bravely poked his head out from under his covers, squinting out into the hallway and seeing Daddy walk angrily into his and Mommy's bedroom. He heard their squeaky closet door open, heard hangers clanking and something heavy drop on the floor.
"Why are you doing this?" Mommy tried again.
"I just can't deal with this anymore, Claire," Daddy said, his voice muffled, probably because he was half-buried in the closet. "I can't raise a gay son."
"So you're leaving because you're afraid a four year old might like boys too much?" Mommy was angry again, Peter could tell.
"No," Daddy's voice was quiet, but it wasn't muffled anymore. "This has been coming on for a while. I," Daddy sighed, then continued, "I don't love you the way a husband should love his wife. This whole thing with Peter was just another sign telling me it's time to leave."
Daddy and Mommy both stayed quiet after that. Peter held tight to Mr. Flopsy, not sure of what was going on. Daddy was angry and Mommy was sad, he knew that, but he didn't understand why Daddy came out of their room with a suitcase. He didn't understand why Mommy screamed a word he didn't know when he heard Daddy's car start. He watched Daddy's car leave through his bedroom window, not understanding why he felt so sad. Daddy would be back later, right?
Soon it was dark and Peter's stomach was growling for attention and food. Mommy hadn't come to get him for dinner and Daddy still hadn't come back. Peter tiptoed out into the dark hallway, dragging My. Flopsy behind him. He peeked into Mommy and Daddy's bedroom, but nobody was there. He walked down the stairs, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck prickle and wished he was tall enough to reach the lightswitch.
But the light in the kitchen was on. Mommy was sitting in a chair, her head resting in her hands. Peter climbed up on the chair next to her and saw her wedding ring sitting on the counter. He knew that she knew he was there, but she made no move to put her ring back on.
That was when Peter knew that Daddy wasn't coming back.