Drabble: And Pixie Dust (Pan/Hook)
Title: And Pixie Dust
Fandom: Peter Pan
Pairings: Pan/Hook
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 200 words
Summary: In which Pan loses.
AN: Written for wyoming_knott, who requested Pan/Hook and the prompt "liberation". Erm, this, I'm not sure this is Pan/Hook per se, but I've always loved subtext anyway. :P And the title--er, I thought of it on the fly. No pun intended.
He flits out of sight, and you catch movement from the corner of your eye. Immediately you twist around and lunge, but he whispers 'Boo' in your ear before you do anything damaging.
You cry with rage, and turn around again, but he is gone. You pause, years of experience honed to catch the smallest sound of unnatural wind, but he is lithe and the wind adores him.
A flitter of something sparkly and tiny zooms in out of nowhere, and you cough to shake out the pixie dust that blinds you for a moment. That annoying, underhanded fairy, you think, and you realise why she flies towards your right.
You turn to your left, suddenly, instinctively, and thrust out your sword. He cries with pain, too surprised to do anything, and without thinking you pin him to the ground.
"How the mighty fall," you sneer, and he struggles against your grip, but that's the disadvantage to being a child, isn't it? He is still arrogant, still defiant, but you can almost taste how it only thinly veils fear.
"Let go," he snarls.
He's never been caught until today, and he's terrified.
You realise this, and that's when you fly.
Fandom: Peter Pan
Pairings: Pan/Hook
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 200 words
Summary: In which Pan loses.
AN: Written for wyoming_knott, who requested Pan/Hook and the prompt "liberation". Erm, this, I'm not sure this is Pan/Hook per se, but I've always loved subtext anyway. :P And the title--er, I thought of it on the fly. No pun intended.
He flits out of sight, and you catch movement from the corner of your eye. Immediately you twist around and lunge, but he whispers 'Boo' in your ear before you do anything damaging.
You cry with rage, and turn around again, but he is gone. You pause, years of experience honed to catch the smallest sound of unnatural wind, but he is lithe and the wind adores him.
A flitter of something sparkly and tiny zooms in out of nowhere, and you cough to shake out the pixie dust that blinds you for a moment. That annoying, underhanded fairy, you think, and you realise why she flies towards your right.
You turn to your left, suddenly, instinctively, and thrust out your sword. He cries with pain, too surprised to do anything, and without thinking you pin him to the ground.
"How the mighty fall," you sneer, and he struggles against your grip, but that's the disadvantage to being a child, isn't it? He is still arrogant, still defiant, but you can almost taste how it only thinly veils fear.
"Let go," he snarls.
He's never been caught until today, and he's terrified.
You realise this, and that's when you fly.