(A/N: Sorry it's been so long everyone! College does not give you much time to write fics. And when you do have time...you're mostly too drained to want to try! It's late given that Christmas has long since passed, but I hope you all enjoy it all the same. This fic is Peter/family but the primary relationship focuses are Peter and Henry and surprisingly Peter and Snow. You'll soon see why. Peter's past is also explored in this fic (a little past I made up), and why he's the way he is-in a lot of aspects. Hope you all enjoy it and next update time is rather...undetermined! Hopefully not a month! Don't be afraid to point out any mistakes. I edit it thoroughly before I post it but I always miss some...)

All was silent for a few moments as Emma and Neal attempted to absorb what they heard. It was easier said than done as they watched their only son hold hands with the manipulative, seemingly soul-less boy that had attempted to ruin their lives only a year before.

"From then on, we started devising a plan to come out with everything," Peter said. "Tonight we were supposed to discuss what date we planned on you all actually discovering." He smirked and the adults' eyes narrowed. "Interesting coincidence, hm?"

"So wait, you expect us to believe that you saved the island with the most powerful magic of all," Neal began, "True Love? Between...you two?"

Peter made a face even as Henry nudged him in the ribs. "Well it sounds disgustingly saccharine when you put it that way." He nudged the kid back roughly and even that gesture made both tense parents look ready to leap on him. "But I...I suppose so."

They were both initially doubtful, but it was hard to claim the entire thing was nothing but a masquerade when both boys were gripping each other's hands for support and looked genuinely frightened...like they feared they'd be ripped apart forever. It probably was what they feared.

Emma's fingers twitched and ached to grab her son and get him away from the villain, but when she took a step forward, the grip on each other's hands noticeably tightened.

"I'm not asking for a lot," Peter began quietly. "Just for you to hear me out. All I want is to keep seeing Henry." Their expressions darkened and he rushed on, desperate to get out what he wanted to say before they lost interest in the conversation.

"I'm not trying to take him from you—not anymore." He scoffed arrogantly. "And let's be honest, we both know if I was I'd have him by now. Child's play, really." Emma gritted her teeth and Henry kicked him. "I mean no harm—I just want to keep seeing my friend. I know the lot of you despise me so I'll even come at night so you never have to worry about seeing me. I'll come without any weapons as well if that's what it will take."

He was desperate to appease them, his confidence shaking at what was on the line. This was it, the final judgement. What they decided could potentially mean not only the end of his friendship with the boy, but the end of his life and Neverland's as well. There wasn't much he could do to fight back at this point. His magic was dwindling and any spell Regina or Rumple would likely use he wasn't able to counter.

"Please just..." He shut his eyes and the comforting grip on his hand tightened. "Just don't take him from me."

Neal and Emma exchanged looks and looked back at the boys. It seemed to take hours (when in reality it was less than two minutes) but at last Emma cleared her throat. "Alright, here's the truth. I don't trust you. Probably never will." Henry swallowed, gripping onto Peter's hand tight. "You took my kid away from me, and probably manipulated my whole…life, or whatever, as far as he goes. You and your Boys nearly got me and my entire family killed, and we barely made it back to Storybrooke in one piece on Hook's ship. Any chance you ever deserved got blown way out of the water as soon as Henry fell down that portal."

It felt like their hearts had fallen to the pit of their stomachs as their hands lost their grip on each other. Henry's eyes filled with tears and Peter started to tremble as he desperately scrambled to come up with a back-up plan. His mind was blank. He heard the child at his side sniffle but he was too numb to comfort him.

Emma continued,"But you want a shot? Fine, you got one. One. Twenty four hours and that's it. And you're gonna be here—right in the open, where all of us can see you. And if you screw up in any way or hurt anyone, your ass will get thrown as far and hard as I can throw it right back to that island of yours."

Henry gasped in joy and Peter just stood there, stunned. "He's gonna be...here?" he whispered excitedly. "All day tomorrow? Really?!"

"Really," Emma responded stiffly. Henry turned his attention away from his parents to grasp his unresponsive friend's arm and give an adorable hop of excitement. "This is gonna be so awesome! You're gonna be with us all day! We're gonna be together and spend time together—and this means you'll even get to stay for dinner and maybe we can watch movies, and..." Another thought dawned on him and he practically squealed. "Wait—I can't believe I forgot! You get to celebrate with us!"

Peter's lips quirked up into a large, amused grin as he gripped his friend back just as happily. "Alright, but what are we celebrating?"

"So...what is this strange festivity called again?" Felix asked as he slapped several leaves onto the Neversap holding the 'wrapping paper together.'

"Christmas, apparently," Peter said offhandedly as he shook the dust out of an old sheet and made a make-shift bag out of it. "It's a winter festival I believe. Trees are strung with candles—uh, lights—and hung up somewhere in houses. Families exchange gifts and sing songs to the tree."

"They sing to the tree? Do they think it can hear them?"

Peter snickered. "I suppose so. I don't understand much of the holiday, but if it's the only way to get into the family's good graces..."

The taller boy finished wrapping the gifts in leaves and tossed them into the sack. "So you're abandoning us in favor of a new family?" Felix's tone was teasing and sarcastic, but his eyes were sharp. He didn't like the fact his friend would be spending an entire day with another family.

Peter darkened at the playful jest and screwed up his face in disgust. "I don't give a damn for any one of the family members. Either one could plummet from a fifty foot cliff and I'd hardly give it a second glance. Henry is the one I care about—none of his party. This is only for Henry." Anything or Henry. Always for Henry.

Felix was taken aback. "I wasn't serious, Peter."

"The point of this," Peter continued, "Is to try and get on their good side; assure them I mean no harm and hopefully I can stop fearing for my life as well. It's vital that I don't screw this up." He tossed his blade—his only means of protecting himself—to the ground. "If I do, not only will we lose Henry..." His voice hitched slightly in fear of the possible outcome. "We could lose..."

"...Everyone," Felix finished gently. "Understood. How long will you be gone?"

"Hopefully not long," Peter said, both dreading any bonding sessions with Henry's family and eager to see his friend again. "I doubt I'll even be allowed to spend time just with Henry. One of his protectors will probably be breathing down my throat the entire time." He growled in annoyance and slung the bag up over his shoulder. "Tomorrow better be worth this." When did some tiny little brat ever start being worth so much trouble, he thought with an equal measure of annoyance and affection.

"Good luck then," Felix said with an awkward wave; as he always had whenever his friend went off on a mission. Peter nodded at him and then disappeared with the bag of gifts, hoping it'd be enough to get on the family's good side.

It was nearly eleven and there was still no sign of Peter Pan. Emma wasn't sure if she should count that as a curse or a blessing. Blessing that she didn't have to endure his company and fear for her son's safety the entire visit, and a curse considering what their bond really meant to Henry.

"Kid! Where the hell is Pan?"

There was the sound of a rustling curtains from where Henry was working on Peter Pan's present—followed by a thump to indicate her son had probably tripped over it trying to block the door or something. She wasn't supposed to go up there while Henry was making his friend's gift. Emma huffed and spun around—just narrowly avoiding smacking into the older kid who had apparently just climbed through the window and dragged snow absolutely everywhere his wet boots touched the floor.

"Happy Christmas, Emma!" He smiled at her and she rolled her eyes as she got an eyeful of his clothing. Red cloak, leather vest and pants. Did he have something against normalcy or something?

"What, are you supposed to be Father Christmas too?" she snorted at him. He tilted his head in confusion. Of course he wasn't, she mentally slapped herself. The kid didn't even know what Christmas was, from what Henry had told them at dinner.

"I brought presents!" Peter declared cheerfully as he held up a...dripping brown bag. And was it moving? "Henry tells me that's your custom?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Emma said, narrowing her eyes on the 'gifts' and trying to decipher what they were. "He's upstairs, but he should be right down. Henry, Pan is here!"

A few pitter-patters of bare feet thudding down the stairs and both boys bounded to each other happily. Emma's eyes widened as Peter ended up skidding past Henry in his wet boots—obviously unaccustomed to slick tile floors. He crashed into the tree and something skittered out of the bag. Emma yelped as it latched onto Henry's face, but Henry only laughed.

"Oy, you naughty thing!" Peter scolded the strange glowing fox creature that was wrapped around Henry's neck like a scarf. "You weren't to come out yet!" He huffed in exasperation and smiled as it nuzzled Henry's face. "It's a Truffle—cute but annoying little buggers. They're born with two tails and eat just about anything."

The Truffle leaped from its master's shoulder and ran yipping up the stairs. Henry gasped as it disappeared behind the curtain of his work station and he stumbled to catch it before it damaged anything. After a second thought, he ran back and gave his friend a brief hug. "Thanks!"

Before he even had a chance to reciprocate or even say a word, Henry had fled back upstairs. Peter stood there dumbfounded for a moment and was vaguely aware that his crash into the Christmas tree had woken Snow and Charming up. They stood there at the door with Emma, just watching him. Incredibly intimidated given the circumstances, the boy managed a timid wave to the group. Eyes narrowed at him but surprisingly Snow returned the wave with a tight, but still sincere smile.

Peter climbed the stairs to the attic and made his way cautiously to the kid's bedroom. The door was swung closed in his face almost instantaneously as Henry gave a yelp of horror and several frenzied sounds came from the room.

"Sorry about that," Henry said sheepishly as he pulled his friend in after a moment. "Just had to make sure—uh...everything was concealed good enough." He shot a glance over at a strange curtain and plopped down on the bed. Peter followed suit.

"So do you like your present?" The teen asked as he watched the Truffle climb up his friend's arm and make himself comfortable on his shoulder. "I figured you would. The only thing your hectic family is missing is a pet."

"Right," Henry grinned, "'Cause life just isn't hectic enough with everything going on—and you know—being friends with you." That got him a playful slap on the arm and he grinned. "It's good to see you're trying to participate in Christmas stuff, anyway. I know it's probably weird for you."

"It'd be less strange if I understood what this even was," Peter snorted. In response Henry reached under his bed and pulled out a large, dust covered box of books. He brushed them off and tossed one onto the bed. It was a worn, childish looking twenty pager and Peter picked it up.

"Preparing In The North Pole." A Christmas book, by the looks of it. He paused when he saw a yellow sticker with some red text. "Grade one reading level." He gave his friend a deadpan glare. "Really?"

"I kept it for sentimental reasons, 'cause Mom used to read it to me every Christmas Eve." He smiled and flipped through the pages. It had sustained numerous juice stains and tears that easily showed how much the book was loved. "See this guy in the red suit? That's Santa Claus. He's this old man that lives in the North Pole. Every year he makes a list of all the good and bad kids of the world and delivers presents to them on Christmas Eve—which is tonight, by the way. He goes down the chimney and drops presents around the Christmas tree. He goes by lots of names: Santa, Saint Nicholas, Noel—in French—Father Christmas..."

"Father Christmas?"

"What, are you supposed to be Father Christmas or something?"

" Every year he makes a list of all the good and bad kids of the world and delivers presents to them on Christmas Eve..."

Peter covered his mouth to muffle the high pitched hysterical giggle that bubbled up as he thought of himself dressed in red, with a bag of gifts. "So when do we see the man then?" he asked, gazing through the window. "Sometime tonight? How even does he manage to fit down a chimney?" He spun around to scowl as Henry started snickering. "What?"

"Wait—you think it's real?" the eleven year old giggled. "It's just a story Peter, for kids. It makes Christmas more fun when you're younger. That's all."

He felt like an idiot. "Oh..."

Henry glanced at him and laughed again as his face reddened. "Okay I know it's not your fault, but you're like...the only seventeen year old I know that thought Santa was actually coming down the chimney for a second." Peter hurled a pillow at him, but the boy just laughed harder.

"Shut up! How was I supposed to know-stop laughing!"

They got into a playful tussle after that, wrestling and throwing pillows at one another until someone at the door cleared her throat. Both boys spun around to see Emma standing there with an expression that was torn between smirking and glaring.

"It's bedtime, you two." That earned a collective groan from both kids and Emma rolled her eyes. "Come on, it's almost midnight and we gotta get up early." She scowled as Henry pulled a sleeping roll out from under his bed. "And what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm...making a bed for Peter...?" Henry said meekly in the kind of tone that indicated he realized that probably wasn't an option. It wasn't.

Peter had barely climbed to his feet when he felt Emma grab his arm and pull him from the room. Even though he tried to stop it, he stifled a gasp and flinched fiercely when he felt her touch his arm.

Emma didn't say anything to indicate she saw the frightened look in his eye, but she saw it. It was a brief flicker—a haunted look of past abuse and fear and covered up so fast it could barely be seen-but she saw it. She cleared her throat and felt uncomfortable in the way she shouldn't feel with Henry's former captor.

"So yeah, bedtime," she reminded Peter. "Get downstairs." He looked like he wanted to fight her but he didn't and just followed her after throwing a final pillow at Henry. Emma glared at him and he mentally rolled his eyes. It was a pillow, not a spear.

"You take the couch," Emma ordered as she took one just the opposite of him. Well, that wasn't uncomfortable or anything. "And get some sleep because Henry is gonna be jumping on you early in the morning to get up." It didn't even dawn on her that he probably got up just as early—if not earlier.

She looked over at the cushions Peter was laying on and watched him shiver. Right, a blanket might help. It probably wouldn't look good on her as Henry's mom if she just let his best friend die of frostbite...tempting as it was.

She hurled a ton of blankets at him and he wrapped himself up in them, snuggled into the pillow.

"Sweet dreams," she said with a smile that made him raise an eyebrow...up until she ended with: "Don't forget I know how to use a gun."

He tilted his head in confusion. The word seemed familiar. "What is a g..." He caught the glint in her eye. Oh. Oh. Uncomfortable, he meekly wriggled further down into the covers and regarded her evil smirk fearfully. He turned onto his back and looked up at the dark ceiling.

Emma turned onto her side away from the kid and mulled over the day's events. Her head was pounding with a migraine the size of New York and it only worsened every time she thought of the hell spawn laying across from her.

Peter stretched and yawned, feeling himself starting to drift off. One question burned at the back of his head and he'd been at the apartment at night too many times not to ask it. "Are your parents going to be loud tonight?"

... Comments about her parents' sex lives-oh yeah, he was definitely a teenager. She groaned and buried her face in her pillows. "Go the hell to sleep, Peter Pan."