Peter:It Only Takes A Wish... (The UnFairytales Saga, Book 2)

Chapter 9 - Angie

I wrung the rag out in the sink of the bathroom, removing the excess water. Grabbing the first aid kit from underneath the sink, I walked back intot he living room. 

I stopped in the doorway, watching Peter inspected the towel that had previously been pressed against his forehead. He grimaced at the sight of the blood on the rag, before putting it back on the nasty cut on his head. 

I knelt in front of him. Opening the first aid kit, I pulled out the liquid stitches, antibiotic ointment, and an alcohol wipe. I took the towel out of his hand and set it aside, replacing it with the wet rag. He hissed in pain.  

"Sorry, it's going to hurt a bit." I apologized, gently wiping away the blood that had begun to take care above his eye.  

He laughed half-heartedly. "I'm the one who almost ran you into the statue, and yet you're apologizing to me." 

He was silent the rest of the time, and I didn't push him. Flying back to the Other Side from Neverland definitely was interesting. He had assured me multiple times that he knew where he was going. So, when we went straight for the merman statue in the fountain at the park, I didn't try to tell him. We nearly missed a huge accident, which would have exposed the entire Bridgeport area to the truth about our fairytales. 

"You really do need to be more careful," I chided him as I put away the first aid kit. "You could've really hurt yourself." 

I sat next to him as he started gently probing the now fixed cut, wincing. "The Other Side has changed more than I realized. I still can't believe you are more concerned with my wellbeing over your own." 

"Get used to it." He laughed again as a question came to mind. "How long has it been since you came to the Other Side?"  

"I'm not exactly sure. What year is it?" 

"It's two thousand fourteen, why?" 

I watched as he mentally counted. "It's been fifty-one years." 

"Wow," I sat in shock for a minute. "So, things really have changed." 

"You can say that again. Everything back then was flowers, and love, and peace. Now...Now it's completely different. Everyone is more worried about getting where they need to be than what's going on around them." 

"Yeah, I guess so." 

We sat quietly, simply enjoying each others company, the candles on the coffee table in front of us casting shadows on the walls. It was a peaceful silence, until there was a growling sound coming from beside me. I looked over at Peter, an eyebrow raised, and he laughed. 

"Sorry, I guess I'm a little hungry."  

I pushed myself off the couch with a sigh. "Well, let's go make something to eat."  

I pulled him off the couch and led him to the kitchen. He jumped on the counter, crossing his legs in an Indian-style, as I started checking the fridge and cabinets. 

"So," he started, trying to see around me. "Do you know how to cook?" 

I nodded. "Is there anything particular that you want?" 

I watched as he thought about it for a minute. "No, there's nothing specific. I'll eat whatever you make." 

I smiled. "Good thing 'whatever' is my specialty, huh?" 

He laughed as I started grabbing containers and boxes out of the fridge and pantry. Pulling a cutting board out of the drawer, I started cutting a cucumber into squares. He automatically grabbed the bowl off the counter and started tearing up lettuce for a salad. 

We worked side by side silently, me cutting up vegetables and sausage and he putting together the salad. It was peaceful, right even, having him there by my side. It was as if the universe knew that, at that very moment, our two worlds would click together like puzzle pieces. I smiled at the thought.  

"Why are you smiling like that?" Peter asked. 

"I'm not smiling." I quickly turned my back to him and put the sausage in the heated pan on the stove. 

He laughed. "Whatever you say." 

"Why do you always do that?" 

"Do what?" 

I put some onions in the pan before stirring. "You're always laughing, why?" 

He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I just like to see the better side of things." 

"So, to see the brighter side of things, you make them funny?" 

He leaned against the counter. "I never really thought of it like that. But, I guess I do." 

I nodded in understanding. "That makes sense, especially in the worst of times. Why cry, when you can laugh?" 

"Exactly what I thought," he jumped on the counter, sitting crossed legged like he had when we started. "So, where'd you learn to cook?" 

It was my turn to shrug. "A lot of places, I guess. My mom taught me some, same with my grandma. I also took a home economics class in high school. Other than that, I pretty much taught myself." 

"Do you like to cook?" 

I pulled some plates out of the cabinet. "I guess so. I mean, I enjoy it, but I wouldn't want to do for a living, all the time. Can you go set the table for me?" 

He nodded and I handed him the stack of plates, cups, and silverware. I watched as he headed for the dining room before I pulled the pan of potatoes out of the oven. A few minutes later, the food was done. Peter helped me grab the bowls of food and take them to the table. 

"This all looks really good." He said as we started dishing the food onto our plates. 

"Thanks," I smiled, busying myself with cutting the potatoes slices into smaller pieces.  

When I looked back up, he smiled, and I felt like the entire world, even if it was only for that second, was perfect.