With the soft, fading light filtering in through the terrible blinds of the dorm room and the remnants of their physical expressions of affection, Jason hardly feels as though he is made of anything solid at all. Even the scratchy sheets of the dorm bed turn into tufts of cloud against his back as Peter settles further next to and around him. If Jason could, he would lay here forever.
This smile he bestows upon Peter know really is just for him. Jason remembers the first time he offered that smile to Peter: they were both thirteen, and fumbling around feelings and confused thoughts. They'd been paired off for science class, sent to gather leaves for a later experiment in the lab. Jason had stumbled over a stray branch root, falling right on his ass and twisting his ankle. Peter had instantly leaned down, lifted an arm under his shoulder, and helped Jason to his feet. Jason remembers well the softness of Peter's jacket against him; the way he looked and smelled of New York autumn as he kept Jason from falling over. Jason had smiled at him before he'd said thank you; the sudden twisting of knots in his stomach and the breath knocked loose from his lungs kept him from saying anything at all, at first. He remembers, too, feeling the same sense of unspeakable giddiness when Peter found him out in that drama class they took together. Now, of course, he deliberately saves that smile for when he and Peter can steal a moment or two alone.
Jason's eyes meet Peter's, and in their depth, he recognizes the aching and the longing. The heartache and yearning. The nights spent chatting with Nadia about how much he misses Peter and how dull life at home is without his best friend. In Peter's eyes, Jason sees the only soul he can love like this. The only other soul he ever wants or needs to love. Peter's gaze pins him in place for a moment. This is magic, he thinks. Real magic.
Peter tells him he loves him, and Jason feels the world around them vanish; even their sanctuary of a dorm room. All that remains are Jason, Peter, and those three words curling around Jason's heart like a vine. He aches to return the words; he wants to scream them and to sing them. He wants so very badly to say it back. But fear prevents him from doing so, as do Peter's gentle lips. He kisses him back intensely, pouring all of his unspoken words into that kiss, so that Peter might taste them instead.
"Me too," Jason nods, sighing again at the attention paid to his jaw. Peter's kisses are tender and comforting, like kittens. "She works her ass off, and the drama department here doesn't appreciate it." Jason loves Nadia; his twin sister, who seems to know him better than he knows himself, sometimes.
Jason leans into each kiss, and then his lips press into Peter's as they kiss properly once again. "I know, but I can't let them down, can I?" He replies, pulling back as that familiar sense of overwhelming dread threatens to overcome him. "Being the son of the family, and all that."
Jason always hurts for Peter at the mention of his father. He doesn't understand how someone can continually neglect their son like that and not care. Though, clearly, Peter is fine with it, in his own way. He leans his head down to rest his chin on the top of Peter's damp, auburn locks, enjoying the way the softness of his hair tickles his lack of beard. "You know, if we both go to Notre Dame, we could be roommates again," Jason says, eyes bright with teasing and also something else. Something more. In a college environment, they could worry less about how others might view their relationship. "And you would give me a reason to actually want to go," he points out with a laugh.
Each mention of 'thinking of you' Peter says only causes Jason's head to spin more. He's dizzy enough already; but Peter possesses the gift of being able to make his head spin even more at any given moment. "I'm not sure you thinking of me while bagging groceries is supposed to be a compliment," he teases, an attempt to disguise the creeping flush on his face and the quickening of his own heart that Peter can probably hear even from his place on Jason's shoulder.
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This smile he bestows upon Peter know really is just for him. Jason remembers the first time he offered that smile to Peter: they were both thirteen, and fumbling around feelings and confused thoughts. They'd been paired off for science class, sent to gather leaves for a later experiment in the lab. Jason had stumbled over a stray branch root, falling right on his ass and twisting his ankle. Peter had instantly leaned down, lifted an arm under his shoulder, and helped Jason to his feet. Jason remembers well the softness of Peter's jacket against him; the way he looked and smelled of New York autumn as he kept Jason from falling over. Jason had smiled at him before he'd said thank you; the sudden twisting of knots in his stomach and the breath knocked loose from his lungs kept him from saying anything at all, at first. He remembers, too, feeling the same sense of unspeakable giddiness when Peter found him out in that drama class they took together. Now, of course, he deliberately saves that smile for when he and Peter can steal a moment or two alone.
Jason's eyes meet Peter's, and in their depth, he recognizes the aching and the longing. The heartache and yearning. The nights spent chatting with Nadia about how much he misses Peter and how dull life at home is without his best friend. In Peter's eyes, Jason sees the only soul he can love like this. The only other soul he ever wants or needs to love. Peter's gaze pins him in place for a moment. This is magic, he thinks. Real magic.
Peter tells him he loves him, and Jason feels the world around them vanish; even their sanctuary of a dorm room. All that remains are Jason, Peter, and those three words curling around Jason's heart like a vine. He aches to return the words; he wants to scream them and to sing them. He wants so very badly to say it back. But fear prevents him from doing so, as do Peter's gentle lips. He kisses him back intensely, pouring all of his unspoken words into that kiss, so that Peter might taste them instead.
"Me too," Jason nods, sighing again at the attention paid to his jaw. Peter's kisses are tender and comforting, like kittens. "She works her ass off, and the drama department here doesn't appreciate it." Jason loves Nadia; his twin sister, who seems to know him better than he knows himself, sometimes.
Jason leans into each kiss, and then his lips press into Peter's as they kiss properly once again. "I know, but I can't let them down, can I?" He replies, pulling back as that familiar sense of overwhelming dread threatens to overcome him. "Being the son of the family, and all that."
Jason always hurts for Peter at the mention of his father. He doesn't understand how someone can continually neglect their son like that and not care. Though, clearly, Peter is fine with it, in his own way. He leans his head down to rest his chin on the top of Peter's damp, auburn locks, enjoying the way the softness of his hair tickles his lack of beard. "You know, if we both go to Notre Dame, we could be roommates again," Jason says, eyes bright with teasing and also something else. Something more. In a college environment, they could worry less about how others might view their relationship. "And you would give me a reason to actually want to go," he points out with a laugh.
Each mention of 'thinking of you' Peter says only causes Jason's head to spin more. He's dizzy enough already; but Peter possesses the gift of being able to make his head spin even more at any given moment. "I'm not sure you thinking of me while bagging groceries is supposed to be a compliment," he teases, an attempt to disguise the creeping flush on his face and the quickening of his own heart that Peter can probably hear even from his place on Jason's shoulder.