Narnia Preferences and Oneshots

Peter Oneshot 1/2

blub

(A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this is going out so late. I went to a wedding and had a lot of fun, but it lasted a bit longer than expected. I caught the bouquet! Also, Daniel in this oneshot is Dan Howell. On with the oneshot! Remember to eat something, drink some water and take your meds! Love you!)

Modern Oneshot: It's your daughter's first date and Pete's not happy

"Mom, can I use your curling iron?" Anastasia, your daughter, called from her room upstairs. Peter shook his head, trying to stay focused on his book and not the current situation. He was having trouble doing so.

"Sure," you yelled back. Peter finally put his book down, taking off his glasses and messing up his hair. You laughed. "What's wrong?"

"Y/N," Peter said, staring at you like you were crazy. "Our babygirl is about to go on her first date."

"Yes, I'm well aware."

"Then why aren't you as worried as I am?"

"Because." you stood up from your chair, going around the couch to stand behind Peter, massaging his shoulders. Peter leaned his head back into your stomach, sighing as the tension in his shoulders was relieved. "You're her father. You're supposed to worry over her abysmally." Peter's eyes shot open, glaring at you playfully.

"Are you two done flirting?" You turned back to the stairs to see Carter, your oldest, standing at the top of the landing. He ran down the stairs and into the kitchen, probably to grab something to eat. Teenage boys.

"Is it technically flirting if we're married?" Peter asked, staring up at you. You shrugged, walking back to your chair and grabbing your laptop again.

"Well," Carter said, coming back into the room,"whatever it is, it's definitely disgusting."

"Like you don't flirt with Lara," Peter retorted without missing a beat. You smirked. You had taught him well.

Carter was born two years after you and Peter got married, making him sixteen. Anastasia was born a little over a year later, making her almost fifteen. Carter, stereotypically, took after Peter, tall and broad shouldered, blond hair and all. The only thing of your that he was your personality, being extremely sweet with a good sense of humour. Anastasia looked like you, down to the H/C hair and E/C eyes, but her personality was a carbon copy of Peter's.

"Carter, do you know Ana's date?" Peter asked your son, wanting to know more about this Daniel character.

"Kind of," he off handed, paying more attention to his phone than the conversation. "He's in my grade." Peter visibly stiffened at that. "Seems nice enough. Never really talked to him myself but I talked to Ana and she says he has decent grades, doesn't play any sports but is a huge drama nerd." He looked up from his phone. "Is that enough information?"

Peter nodded stiffly. You sighed. You were glad this boy had decent grades and that he hopefully wasn't a jock who would take advantage of your daughter. You had taken drama is school and respected his choice of it over sports; drama was more fun than P.E. ever was.

Carter scoffed. "You're worried about her?"

"Yes, I am."

"Dad, you really have no reason to be. Anastasia is smart."

"Plus, she's like you. She won't let anyone walk all over her," you added, agreeing with your son.

"She can also hear you!" Anastasia shouted.

"That too," Carter said.

"Ana, are you almost ready?" You called, checking your watch. "You only have five minutes 'til he gets here!"

"I'm aware, Mum."

Peter smirked. "She is like you."

The knock at the door came as a shock seconds later.

"Mum, I'm not ready! Stall him for a few minutes!" Your frazzled daughter shouted. Carter, Peter and yourself went to the door to try to give Ana a bit more time.

"Who's going to open the door?" Carter asked. You pointed to him and he quickly got behind the door, unlocked it and swung it opened.

Standing outside was a tall boy who looked about Carter's age, as he should. He was wearing black skinny jeans and a black sweater with three-quarter sleeves. He had brown hair styled into a fringe no longer than his nose on either side. His brown eyes scanned your family and lost a bit of sparkle when he noticed that Anastasia wasn't in sight.

"Hi," you greeted, stepping forward with your hand outstretched. "I'm Y/N, Anastasia's mother." He shook your hand timidly, eyes flickering between you and Peter who was giving him a particularly scary look.

"Dad, lay off," Carter said, peeking out from behind the door. "Dan."

"Carter." The interaction seemed forced and out of politeness.

"Why don't you come inside? Anastasia will be ready in a few minutes," you said, ushering the boy in and motioning for him to sit on the couch. He did so, slowly, seemingly having a staring contest with Peter. Finally, Peter extended his hand.

"Peter Pevensie, though Sir will do just nicely." You saw Carter stifling a laugh by the door. Dan shook Peter's hand quickly and retracted his own, rubbing as though he had been burned.

"So," you said, sitting down on the other couch and pulling Peter down with you,"Dan. Tell us about yourself."

"Well, uh," he stammered, fidgeting with his hand. "I don't play any sports, so if you were expecting a jock then I'm not your guy. I'm in drama, like Anastasia. Since there aren't that many drama kids they lump all of the grades together. That's where I met Anastasia. My grades are decent." He sat in silence for a second before adding,"Also, I passed my driving test with flying colors the first time around, just incase you were wondering about my driving skills."

"Ana! Please hurry! It's getting unbearably awkward down here!" Carter joked, though he wasn't entirely lying.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" The sound of footsteps made each of your heads turn towards the stairs.

Anastasia stood there, now ready for her date. She was wearing black skinny jeans, a grey tank top and an ivory skull and crossbones cardigan that flowed down past her knee at some points. Her hair was curled to perfection and her glasses topped off the look.

Dan smiled and visibly relaxed. You smiled. If he liked her half as much as he appeared to, your daughter was in good hands.