Gonna carry that weight a long time. [AU for Peter]

[no_voice]

Jason works harder than most of the rest of Saint Cecilia's campus. He knows this for a fact. Coming as he does from a poor family, he nearly broke himself just trying to secure the scholarship money to be able to attend such a prestigious institution. Not to mention his parents, working tooth and nail just to keep the roof over their humble abode back in Maine. So Jason works, and he works hard. He stays in when the rest of the student body parties; he pours himself into his homework and into his appearance, working to give himself the same appearance of the students born into Saint Cecilia's legacy.

Nadia coming out just before they returned to school for their senior year has done nothing for Jason's courage. Even as understanding as his parents had been towards Nadia, he knows he can't expect that same treatment for his own sexuality. Not when Nadia is the golden daughter, and every time Jason takes a step out of line, he brings down fire and brimstone upon himself.

He grits his teeth, trying to concentrate on his history paper. His parents expect more from him, when they take the time to remember that he exists. They would never understand how they could possibly have two gay children. The perfect daughter, they can make allowances for, even as strict Catholics. The invisible son, well. He only has so much room that they can spare for him.

He sighs as his head falls in frustration on top of his essay. He's been in love with Peter ever since they'd moved in together as roommates. He just wishes he had the nerve to tell him.

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[paper_courage]

Peter's skin tingled. He loved that Jason thought that he was a saint, loved how often he said it and how clear it was that he meant it. Peter's parents didn't give a rat's ass what he did, how well he succeeded, what he cared about. This was a weight Peter carried with him. Did Jason know that his faith in Peter was what kept Peter alive? Some days, it was the only thing doing so.

What he wouldn't give to tell Jason that, to tell him how he felt: that Jason was a burning constant in his chest. That he was the most welcome pain Peter had ever felt.

"Excellent choice," Peter said, a smile attacking his face. It was one of his favorites; it was one of their favorites to watch together. Two St. Cecilia's misfits, one hiding away under academia and the other hiding in plain sight. If they got Lucas, Tanya, and Ivy in on it, they could do a full reenactment with total emotional honesty.

Unfortunately, there was no such thing at St. Cecilia's as any kind of honesty. Peter had learned that real quick.

Quickly, Peter pulled up the file. The movie started and they were close and Peter wanted so, so much to lay his head on Jason's shoulder. When was the last time anyone had touched him? Furthermore, when was the last time any touch had mattered, had made him feel anything?

"Relax," Peter said gently, watching the line of Jason's shoulders and how it didn't slacken. "You're off duty for now, overachiever." He smiled. It always surprised him how easy it was to smile at him.

[no_voice]

Peter smiles like that, and the sun itself might be rising, bright and burning, in the middle of their dorm room. Jason's heart leaps to his throat, as though trying to throw itself right into the middle of Peter's light. Truthfully, he couldn't care less about what movie they wound up watching, even though the Breakfast Club is genuinely one of Jason's favorite movies. All he cares about is getting to sit close to Peter, and pretend he has the courage to simply reach out and take his hand.

Jason watches Peter pull up the file on his laptop, savoring the way the light of the laptop plays across his marvelously crooked face.

He doesn't realize how tense he still is until Peter, of course, points it out to him. He smiles sheepishly. "Sorry. Bad habit," he jokes. And, God, Peter is still smiling at him like that. Jason feels his breath catching in his throat, his gaze seemingly stuck on Peter's mouth. And then, before he can think about it too much, he's leaning in and pressing a desperate, searing kiss to Peter's lips.

[paper_courage]

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.

Over and over and over went the words in Peter's brain, like a news ticker with one bizarre update. Two seconds ago, they were roommates, friends that lived together under ancient ceiling tiles in a tiny compartment of a room. All of a sudden, Peter wondered if that was what they'd ever been. Hindsight choked him so hard that he nearly forgot to kiss him back.

His brain rebooted and importance returned to him. With little regard for anything else, including the computer in his lap, Peter angled his legs toward Jason. A hand found the side of his neck and he kissed. They were kissing. For years this kiss had lived in his belly, in his chest and now it was on his lips, hard and sudden and burning.

He shuffled his legs out the rest of the way from under the laptop and let it land on its side against the mattress. He inhaled sharply as he twisted toward Jason, hitching himself up to get as close as possible. Oh God, how he'd wanted this. Some nights it was all he could think of. Now he knew why: it wasn't just him. For the first time, he thought that maybe Jason had been awake those nights, too.

[no_voice]

It takes a moment before Jason feels Peter kissing him back, and for that one moment, his stomach drops out and his chest tightens. He wonders if he made a mistake. But all thoughts of that fly out the second Peter responds, just as hungry and just as desperate.

Jason barely acknowledges even the laptop as he tugs Peter closer to him, shifting so that Peter sits in his lap as he wraps his arms around him, tight and unwilling to let go of the soul that so mirrors his own.

He moans into the kiss, feeling it all the way down in his toes. He's waited so long for this moment, and there is so much he wants to say. Right now, he can only speak the language of pressing tongues and grasping hands. He loves Peter so much; it burns within him like a drug.

[paper_courage]

Peter slipped into Jason's lap with an agonizing ease. Hindsight punched him in the chest now that he was there, a leg on either side of Jason's. There wasn't enough time for Peter to tell himself not to press his hips forward because Jason did it for him. His arms were a vice around Peter's waist. He hitched in to get as close as possible. The movie was now a dull murmur against muffling sheets.

"Jason," came Peter's voice against the other boy's lips, astounded and grateful and floored. There was nothing else to say. Lips wanted to do what hands had never dared to. Peter cupped Jason's face and kissed him like his world would end if he didn't. He was sure it would. He barely dared to breathe.