It's like a deep thump in Peter's chest, when Jason calls him things like genius, beautiful, brilliant. He feels smart -- at least of above-average intelligence -- and he feels equally above-average in attractiveness. Puberty hadn't necessarily been kind to him, but he'd grown into his lips, the redness of his hair had mellowed out a bit. Then, he'd gotten his first job at a camp as a student counselor. He'd hoped his mother had signed him up for a position in the arts, but no, he was the sports and rec guy. Luckily, it had a positive effect on his body image when Jason noticed. That was so long ago. Things were only just starting to take a more serious turn, and he thinks that changing musculature most likely had a lot to do with it.
All of that -- the years that had brought them closer and changed them and challenged every single thing they'd been taught over the years -- and Jason still can't say it. Often, Peter lets perfect days like this one lull him into the sense that he will never need it, but he can feel it: the duration and intensity of their relationship is like a fresh cut and the way that it makes Peter feel is threatening to rise to the surface and pour out like blood. He wonders how many more times he can take Jason's hand shove him away at the sound of someone walking by. He wonders how Jason can take it.
Then, Jason is kissing a sweet, smooth little line down Peter's face to his lips and he forgets again that there is any difference between out there and in here. He steals another kiss to close the yawning chasm he's developed in his belly. They're on their sides, now, and Peter pulls the blanket and sheet up over them before settling his leg between Jason's. A hand finds its way to Jason's waist, the other arm curls between them for warmth. New York is a shitload colder than Arizona, so that's always an adjustment, and they are laying in a cold, old dorm room completely naked.
"I didn't put a glamour shot in my transcript, though I'm sure you did," Peter teases back, meeting Jason's eyes with a small, peaceful smile. "I'll be getting in on brains only. You'd better put in the good word for me or I'll tell Admissions who actually passed your Calculus final."
no subject
All of that -- the years that had brought them closer and changed them and challenged every single thing they'd been taught over the years -- and Jason still can't say it. Often, Peter lets perfect days like this one lull him into the sense that he will never need it, but he can feel it: the duration and intensity of their relationship is like a fresh cut and the way that it makes Peter feel is threatening to rise to the surface and pour out like blood. He wonders how many more times he can take Jason's hand shove him away at the sound of someone walking by. He wonders how Jason can take it.
Then, Jason is kissing a sweet, smooth little line down Peter's face to his lips and he forgets again that there is any difference between out there and in here. He steals another kiss to close the yawning chasm he's developed in his belly. They're on their sides, now, and Peter pulls the blanket and sheet up over them before settling his leg between Jason's. A hand finds its way to Jason's waist, the other arm curls between them for warmth. New York is a shitload colder than Arizona, so that's always an adjustment, and they are laying in a cold, old dorm room completely naked.
"I didn't put a glamour shot in my transcript, though I'm sure you did," Peter teases back, meeting Jason's eyes with a small, peaceful smile. "I'll be getting in on brains only. You'd better put in the good word for me or I'll tell Admissions who actually passed your Calculus final."