It was late in the evening when Peter Pan walked the streets of Storybrooke. It was late enough that the streets were vacant and most house lights were turned off. There was one house—one rather big one—that Peter knew was still lit in the dead night.
He made his way to his son's house, amused by the fact that even in a world without magic, it still had the majesty of a castle and rivaled the mayor's easily. Peter scaled up the tree and perched at the edge of the branch, peering into the window at his son sitting in his chair.
He used to do this often when Rumple was a boy. As a father he'd watch his lad during the evening, and even as Peter Pan he visited from Neverland to sometimes gaze at his son from the distance as he slept or played. Under the shadow's rule, the boy was unable to interact with his son when he was young, but as always Peter found some loophole.