A little smile plays at Peter's lips for a second when Jason kisses his knee. It's an innocent, sweet gesture, and it reminds him that he has a love that is pure; maybe not so in the eyes of the people who speak for the Lord, but one that isn't just some means to an end for temptation and desire. Jason's hot, soft mouth against the fabric at his knee is the kind of romantic gesture he'd hoped came with feeling this kind of love. It's the kind of thing he feels good being right about, unlike so many other things Peter's gleaned from his vantage point on the edge of the high school social radar.

The smile is gone by the time the inevitable bullshit hurtful words are out, hanging in the air even despite the fact that they'd gone relatively unsaid. That's the special brand of hurt words like the ones Jason's father hurls at his son like stones. They've done their job, and now Jason is a quivering mass in Peter's arms, which wrap even tighter around him. Tight enough that he is able to pull him up to kiss his temple. He's angry -- fucking furious, actually -- but he's doing what he needs to in order to slay Jason's giants the way Jason has slain his.

"Does that mean you're still in track, then?" It's a non-judgemental question for Peter's end; another attempt at understanding what it is that Jason's just been through. Not for the first time, Peter thanks God that his own bigot of a father is too much of a coward to say the things that Jason is forced to edure.

His ire rises further and he exhales it against Jason's skin, letting it go with another brush of a kiss against the side of Jason's face.