Jason's heart softens, and the weight on his chest eases a bit at the small smile that flickers on Peter's face, like a butterfly first taking graceful flight. Jason loves that smile; he loves it so much, he presses another kiss to Peter's knee, in the hopes that he might see that smile again, perhaps wider. Alone with him like this, away from the harsh judgement of the outside world, Jason finds it so easy to indulge in the romantic whims he's harbored since he was a boy. Whims, he's been told, meant for girls. But Peter is the only one for whom Jason aims these whims; he's the only one for whom his heart soars.
Jason sighs again, breathing all stuttering and shaky, as Peter curls his arms around him more tightly. He can feel everything in those arms: love, adoration, support, kindness, generosity, and the simmering anger directed at his father. It warms him further, the way he's always read love is supposed to warm a person. He brings his own hands to wrap around what he can reach of Peter, clinging to him like an anchor.
And then Peter's pulling him up and kissing his temple, and Jason feels his father's influence ease further and further away. In this room, the two of them can hold each other and whisper and talk and kiss and it will be alright. Peter is guarding him with all the loyalty of a knight, and Jason knows that he needs no better security blanket than the promises he feels in his boyfriend's embrace.
"No, I'm not," Jason murmurs, glancing up and focusing his blue eyes on Peter above him. Even with his delicate features, Peter looks so strong and like he could rip the world in two if Jason asked that of him. His heart beat quickens and he feels himself flush, overwhelmed at the enormity of everything he finds in Peter's eyes. "I can't do it anymore, Peter. I'm so tired. And I am doing too many sports as it is." Too many sports and not enough fine arts, is what goes unspoken, but Jason's certain Peter can interpret the silent words just fine.
Peter exhales against his face before pressing another kiss there, and Jason manages a smile for the first time since his father called.
"Peter Simmonds, you really are a saint, you know."
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Jason sighs again, breathing all stuttering and shaky, as Peter curls his arms around him more tightly. He can feel everything in those arms: love, adoration, support, kindness, generosity, and the simmering anger directed at his father. It warms him further, the way he's always read love is supposed to warm a person. He brings his own hands to wrap around what he can reach of Peter, clinging to him like an anchor.
And then Peter's pulling him up and kissing his temple, and Jason feels his father's influence ease further and further away. In this room, the two of them can hold each other and whisper and talk and kiss and it will be alright. Peter is guarding him with all the loyalty of a knight, and Jason knows that he needs no better security blanket than the promises he feels in his boyfriend's embrace.
"No, I'm not," Jason murmurs, glancing up and focusing his blue eyes on Peter above him. Even with his delicate features, Peter looks so strong and like he could rip the world in two if Jason asked that of him. His heart beat quickens and he feels himself flush, overwhelmed at the enormity of everything he finds in Peter's eyes. "I can't do it anymore, Peter. I'm so tired. And I am doing too many sports as it is." Too many sports and not enough fine arts, is what goes unspoken, but Jason's certain Peter can interpret the silent words just fine.
Peter exhales against his face before pressing another kiss there, and Jason manages a smile for the first time since his father called.
"Peter Simmonds, you really are a saint, you know."