@ganglandprincess
Stretched out in their bed, Peter had every reason to suspect there was something up when he had been able to sleep passed ten in the morning. Alfie and the crack of dawn could have been best friends for how often the two seemed to be in sync.
Yawning, he stretched, glancing beside him and spotting a Wendito-less half of the bed which could only mean that she had gotten up with their son and allowed him a lie in.
He had just managed to put on his pyjama bottom’s and a worn out batman t-shirt when two little flour covered hands were hitting his thigh and leaving imprints on the fabric.
“Daddy, daddy, daddy.” It was like a chant, getting a laugh from him as he crouched down to his two year old to see what had gotten him so excited that morning.
“What’s up with you, Scooby Doo?” He asked, the nickname one he had used since Alfie had started to run, which ended up being a comical kind of scuff when he tried to go too fast. He definitely took after his mother in the embarrassing run department.
“Happy birfday!” Alfie squealed with a clap of his hands, momentarily distracted by the white dust that formed when he did so. Peter furrowed his eyebrows, aware that it wasn’t his birthday, it was Sunday. That was when it clicked into place.
“Do you mean Happy Father’s Day?” He grinned, Alfie nodding as though that was what he had said in the first place. That was his boy, good save.
“We made pancakes.” His mini me informed him as he took him by the hand with both of his and tugged until he brought him out to the kitchen.
Even though the world around them in Neverland seemed to be dissolving to shit and uncertainty, Wendy was determined to make the day a safe distraction from all of that -- for both Peter and Alfie’s sakes.
The first Father’s Day that they’d had with Alfie had been more on principle than anything - a gift and a card from Alfie that was actually made out in Wendy’s handwriting. However, now that Alfie had some (albeit confused) understanding of it, the day was already shaping up to be far more entertaining. Wendy was already looking forward to what Christmas and Halloween would be like with him this year.
“I got him, mumbie, I got him,” the little blonde declared as he pulled Peter into the kitchen, where Wendy was standing at the stove in her own pajamas with a spatula in her hand.
“It would have been more fair of him to say that we’ve attempted to make pancakes, I think only about three of them resemble an actual circle,” she snorted, scooping some bacon from the skillet onto the three plates they had set -- Peter’s place marked by a special placemat, which was a picture that Alfie had made that morning to distract him from asking for chocolate chips every other sentence.
“He was so excited, I had to catch him half a dozen times because he kept bolting to try and go wake you up.”
