Even as Jason fears his own feelings for Peter and how easily they can rise up from within to drag him even further under waves he's already struggling to keep afloat in, he can't keep the longing from his thoughts or those images from behind his eyes. Kissing Peter, decidedly and openly in front of everyone. Defying convention and what's expected of him. But reality is quick to dash those images with its bitter truths; the condemnation of his peers and teachers. The outright hatred of his father. The both of them ruined at the hands of the world that is so quick to cut any and all that fail to live up to its impossible standards.

Jason struggles to keep himself in check as Peter tugs his hand away. He knows its necessary; so very necessary. But it still feels like Peter takes a bit of his heart with him when he pulls back, anyway. God, Jason swallows. He's running out of strength for these sorts of prayers. Especially when Peter's touch is increasingly becoming the only balm his wounded soul requires.

"I'll take a lemonade, if you're offering," Jason says, keeping his gaze away from Peter. It's taking him longer than usual to hide the clouding desire in them.

But he's also nearly an expert at pulling back into his smooth features. He brings the hand previously holding Peter's to cradle his chin; he can both keep Peter's touch close and emphasize the lazy, unaffected darling expression on his face. Nadia rolls her eyes and snorts at the gesture.

"Just like a peacock, as usual," she points out, moving some of the food around on her plate. "I mean, all that's left for you to do is preen, so."

As usual, Jason misses the weight beneath his sister's words.

"Yeah, I'll save that for when dad visits," Jason rolls his eyes. He means it to come out as playful, but it comes out bitter, instead. Bitter enough that Nadia reaches over and briefly squeezes his shoulder.

"You do that, and I'll stuff an entire cake in my face in front of mom," she assures him.