Cause he knows he's taking chances. [Test post for Peter]

[no_voice]

Jason arrives to St. Cecilia's feeling both as though he's about to take flight and he's about to sink into empty air with only the cold, cruel autumn ground to break his fall. He breathes in the oppressive humidity of the late August day as though he might steal some of the summer sun to keep himself warm on the inside. His senior year, finally. Everything comes down to this. All of those 'encouraging' family talks and hollow laughter about how he'll make the family proud and burn brightly on at Notre Dame. All of those discussions about how he'll meet his future wife and provide his parents with grandchildren soon enough.

He shakes his head, taking a stuttering breath to calm himself. He's only just arrived. No need to let the pressure of everything build quite that high up just yet.

His parents offered to help him unpack; he waved them off with the smile he'd gotten so good at faking, gently hinting that perhaps their assistance would be better off with Nadia, who rolled her eyes, but offered him an actual smile all the same.

His family ought to have left by now. He hopes. Regardless, with one last exhale, he's on his way back to his room. He needs to see Peter more than anything. He's the only person Jason wants to see in this moment; he's the only one who will understand.

But of course, he's Jason McConnell, and making his way back to his own room is never that simple. He winds up chatting with Matt for a few minutes, before gaggles of girls try and worm his number out of him. He endures about ten minute of it before excusing himself, nearly running to his room where, hopefully, he'll find Peter.

Comments

[paper_courage]

It's always a bit of a tango, getting his mother to leave on the first day of school.

He's promised he'll call, he's assured her that he's not dying from the inside out because his father cancelled on their goodbye dinner again, and he's dodged her trying to fix his hair, again. Peter really, really doesn't like it when people mess with his hair. Well, most people, anyway. There's one person he can think of whose fingers he can't wait to feel in his hair.

Another hug, another kiss, another "good luck" on his audition tomorrow (he's explained to her a hundred times that saying "good luck" is bad luck, so she substitutes it with a hearty "excelsior" before he all but pushes her into the car.

Finally, he's on his way to his room, scanning the halls and lawns for a sign of his roommate, but nothing yet. He's giving Tanya a quick hug, listening to her compliment his clothes, and then time stops because he sees Nadia with her parents flanking her on either side. This has a two-fold meaning: not only is Jason here, but he's alone.

The sympathetic glance he tries to toss at Nadia doesn't quite make it, so he waves quickly and takes off at a near-sprint for his dorm hall.

He's breathless when he finally reaches their room, and he takes a breath and adjusts his hair before he pushes the door open. His thirst for air after his dash only makes his heart beat faster when he sees him, three months older than the last time they'd seen each other and all alone.

"Hi," Peter says lamely, his eyes sparkling. He's working to level his breath.

[no_voice]

Jason, ecstatic to finally find himself free of the crowd of adoring, fellow students, starts to sprint once he reaches his dorm building. If anyone asks, he'll say he forgot his baseball bat for practice. But the rapid thumping of his heart and the way he feels each step reverberate know better. His body, as tightly wound as a rubber band, all but floats up the stairs as he makes his way to his room.

A fine coat of sweat glistens on his skin and in his hair as he unlocks the door and opens it, hoping beyond hope...

The room is empty. Jason's face falls. As does his heart. With a groan, he makes his way over to his bed (one of them, anyways; they do like to alternate) and flops down on it, letting one hand dramatically cover his face. He ought to at least change his shirt and make himself presentable, in the mean time. No, Jason thinks with a smirk. Let Peter find him like this, covered in sweat and golden hair tousled.

After what feels like an eternity, Jason hears the door as it moves. Instantly, he bolts up, slight shivers running through him as he prays his instincts prove right.

For a solid moment, he just stares. Peter, lingering in the door frame, hair clearly worked with his hands and each freckle moving in time as he tries to catch his breath. Jason feels the flush on his own face as it spreads towards his ears and his chest tightens. God, he's so in love with Peter.

Even the small 'hi' makes his smile dizzy. Jason stalks over in a couple of strides, nudging the door closed with his foot as he grabs Peter by the face and kisses him soundly, solidly. Three months since their last kiss. Their last touch. Their last everything.

Jason's heart soars into his throat as he pushes Peter against the door, bringing one hand to stroke through his hair once he pulls back to catch his breathe.

"Hi yourself," he smirks. "Peter Simmonds, you could tempt a saint." He shamelessly lets his gaze roam over Peter, hungry for everything he's missed in the summer months.

[paper_courage]

It's like Jason's flipped some kind of switch in Peter. He's not the boy that makes his parents proud, he's Jason's boyfriend again, and he would risk everything else to stay there, or so the way he winds his arms around Jason's neck might suggest. He hopes one day that he can be both, but right now, he hopes literally only one thing, and that's to be as close to Jason for as long as possible.

No one is more surprised than Peter at the hungry little noise he makes when Jason's hands are in his hair. The instant satisfaction (and little spark of embarrassment by that stupid noise he just made) is enough to propel Peter's lips into action, and he finds Jason's again.

"I've missed you so much, Jason," he insists against his roommate's lips. Once his head is swimming almost dangerously, he finally pulls back a bit, his head thumping against the door, but his arms stay around Jason. That's when he gets a good look at him, and -- like every other time he sees Jason -- he wonders how he could possibly be even more attractive than Peter had remembered.

[no_voice]

Jason has never been so grateful for his parents and sister to be off elsewhere on campus. Hopefully, his parents are on their way home, by now. Now, in this room with Peter, Jason can be his true self. The Jason he has to shelter away from the rest of the world because he doesn't live up to what's expected of him. He's here and he's free, kissing Peter desperately as Peter winds his arms around Jason's neck.

He grins when Peter makes that beautiful little noise; it shoots right through him like a spark. He moves to soothe his hands through Peter's hair, hoping to hear it again.

Jason's own chest heaves when they finally part. He can feel the bright pink of his face, which makes smiling hurt, but he does it anyway, grinning at Peter, his entire world, really. Peter, with his wide lips and freckles, becomes even more attractive in the wake of kissing. It doesn't help as Jason tries to regain his breath.

"I would never have guessed," Jason teases, leaning in to kiss Peter's nose, his eyes full of mirth.

[paper_courage]

The breathless laugh that escapes him when Jason's lips touch his nose is as easy as it it hopeless. He spreads the fingertips of one hand out across the incredibly sexy squareness of Jason's jaw. It's not long before he's helpless against Jason's touch again, that wide mouth that Jason loves so much betraying its owner with another, lower little noise.

"Stop it," he protests, but he doesn't mean it and the playful little glare proves it. He can't stop his hands from sliding down to the front of Jason's shirt, resting in a devastatingly natural way on his chest. It's like he's high, only he never seems to like being actually high as much as he likes whatever drug he's on when he's with Jason. "I asked Father and we don't have any service tonight. Most people aren't getting here until tomorrow." He doesn't elaborate, he just lets the statement hang in the air.

[no_voice]

Jason's cheeks ache so much they might split from the sheer spread of his grin, wide and growing wider at the sound of Peter's laughter, soft and shivery like the back of butterfly wings. He delights in the sound, leaning in closer to catch it on his face as Peter's fingertips trace his jaw. The next noise he makes shoots through Jason again, and moves in closer, his hips beginning to press Peter further into the door.

"I'm so convinced," Jason teases, his own voice raw and breathless as Peter's hands slide down his shirt, warm and insistent through the muted fabric of his shirt. He feels as though he's floating; with Peter, he can float away to wherever he wants to be. It's an addiction that only comes from being with the one he loves.

He starts pressing kisses against Peter's jaw. "You sure you want me to stop?" He whispers in between kisses.

He pulls back when Peter mentions the lack of Mass and people in one night. "Always the good Catholic," he teases. He lifts an eyebrow significantly a moment later. "Or are you? We do have quite a bit of time ahead of us and I don't hear you suggesting prayer."

Jason lets his hands fall to Peter's waist, debating internally whether he wants to drag or carry the other boy to bed.

[paper_courage]

The first night that's theirs since school ended at the beginning of summer is usually filled with excitement: when they were younger, before they were honest with each other, the exhilaration was a nameless thing that was like being with your best friend in the whole world. The following summer was about tentative kisses and alternating denial, which lasted almost through two years, if Peter recalls. Once young adulthood started to set in, their last nights began to pale only in comparison with their first nights back. If the fireworks singeing the inside of Peter's entire midsection are any indication, tonight is going to be much the same.

"No," Peter admits, even though he doesn't need to. His teeth rake the surface of his own lips as he stares at Jason's. All of the ideas he's being supplied with thanks to lack of oxygen and migrating blood supply are rushing to him at once, and every one of them has something to do with that mouth.

Still, though, his eyes dart to the door behind him. What if someone decided to come by to dorm check? It's not likely, since many students won't be there until much later or even tomorrow morning. The fear is only in the periphery in the grand scheme of Peter's thoughts, but it's a nagging one.

"Maybe we should wait?" He doesn't even sound sure enough to have said it, but the concern is warping the line of his brow. He decides to make the most of it by adding, "and pray first." He is completely unable to help the little smile playing at his lips.

[no_voice]

Jason remembers every beginning and every ending to every summer that's passed between them while at Saint Cecilia's throughout the years. He remembers the first time he locked eyes with Peter, the sudden, unnamed rush into the pit of his stomach as he discovered both the question and the answer to all of his prayers. He remembers that first kiss, how they'd laughed and blushed at the sloppiness of it. He remembers the first time he lost his breath, taking hold of Peter's hand. He remembers trying to fight every emotion Peter drew from him; he remembers giving in, yielding to the demands of his own heart. Heat and light flicker and curl against his ribcage, as he considers every possibility of tonight.

And then Peter's staring at him with that look in his eyes and his teeth grazing against the surface of his lips, sending Jason's stomach into knots as he considers all the ways he wants that mouth and those eyes and all of Peter, tangled together in their bed sheets. It's enough to make him a little bit weak in the knees, weighed down as he is by the sheer intensity of his desire.

He does catch the way Peter's eyes dart behind them, to the door. He sighs, but he understands only too well Peter's fears, as they are so rooted in his own. Still, Jason thinks as he moves to lock the door, thank God that they still have some semblance of privacy.

"Hmm," he hums, watching Peter even as he moves back from him a little. He starts tracing circles with the pads of his thumbs on his hips. And then Peter is smiling like that, and Jesus Christ, the same heat and light in him from before cackles like flaming embers at the sight.

He lets this light show in the flash of his eyes and the smirk that grows beneath them.

"Well, if you wanted to be on your knees, you should have just said."

[paper_courage]

The press of Jason reaching behind Peter to lock the door and the accompanying sound extracts a Pavlovian response; Peter's jaw tightens and loosens with the same thrill of possibilities that's just surged through Jason. He thinks for the hundredth time, how could this be wrong? Maybe his thoughts aren't pure, but his love is, and the closer they are, the more Peter can feel the warm reflection of his own certainty in Jason.

Somewhere under all of the desire and adoration, that guilt and sense of detachment he will feel in the morning when their classmates have surrounded Jason and he will no longer touch Peter like this pulls at a thread. Peter cuts it before anything can unravel.

He feels his head thumps softly against the door again as Jason's touch warms him from the contact point out. He's fighting a juxtaposing shudder when he catches that same heat in Jason's eyes.

"I don't need your permission," Peter pushes back with pliant defiance, and then he's on his knees, feet pressed against the bottom of the door as if for extra protection from the outside world. There is nothing in the world that Peter wants more than to taste every gorgeous inch of his classmate, except maybe the validation of hearing Jason insist he press on. Perhaps this is why he takes his time unfastening the simple buttons on Jason's jeans and kills some more time mouthing softly along that perfect cut of his hips.

[no_voice]

Jason watches the way Peter's jaw tenses and slacks all at once, committing the image to memory even as the sight causes him to shudder all the same. He sees the same wanting burning in Peter's gorgeous eyes, the shimmering color of sea glass beneath the summer sun. The brightness of them, and the intensity of their closeness, drives from Jason the thoughts of how this isn't who his family wants him to be. Alone, in their own little world, they have each other, and the love between them. And here, in this room, that is enough.

Jason very much shoves the inevitable fact of having to hide from the rest of the school in the morning out of the window of his thoughts. He leans in to steal another kiss, groaning into Peter's mouth as he feels all of the order and control he maintains over his life seep out from him as though he were bleeding out. He brings one hand up to brush against cheekbones as sharp as the edge of glass, letting out a shuddering breath as he pulls back.

"One day," he says, all earnest even as desire and affection cloud his gaze. "I am going to kiss every freckle on your body. That's a promise." His voice rings out low and husky, and surely, by now, Peter can see and feel how much Jason wants him.

And then Peter actually falls to his knees, pressing his face to his hips and moving to undo his buttons so slowly Jason thinks he might expire from the building tension in his belly.

"Jesus, Peter," he groans again, moving to tangle his hands in Peter's hair, tugging a bit to urge him on. "Please."

[paper_courage]

Spontaneous as it may seem, the smooth move downward was planned from the moment he left his parents' house that morning. This and exactly this is what Peter needs; maybe it will ground him, quiet the millions of questions that build up from summer to summer, and maybe the world will finally freeze around them like it does in the most optimistic of his dreams.

He takes a look in those big blue eyes from his perfect vantage point and gets exactly what he wants.

Peter's own eyes close again when Jason speaks, and he has to press his forehead against the perfect flatness of Jason's hip to keep from toppling over. Even after nearly 6 years of doing this dance, Peter still gets that head rush he felt the first time they touched, and every time, it's equally overwhelming -- there's absolutely no way that sort of intense wave should still be there. Especially if any of the adult relationships Peter's seen are any indication.

All it takes is the firm and gentle urging of Jason's hand in his hair to get Peter to suggestively tug up on Jason's shirt (he'll have to take care of that, Peter is busy) and he gets to work cinching Jason's pants down before the insistence of Jason's hands, the only hands that were allowed in his hair, and he tugs Jason's pants down only as much as he needs to. His hands flatten against the soft skin and tight musculature of Jason's hips as he closes his already-red, affected mouth over him.

[no_voice]

There's a grace to Peter's movements, like a swan unfurling its neck. It takes Jason's breath away, how smoothly Peter falls to his knees. With his head pressed so close to his midsection, as though his hips were pillows, Jason can indulge in the idea that nothing can intrude upon this secret paradise of theirs. This is bliss; their own heaven, away from prying eyes and absurd expectations.

Jason meets Peter's gaze and his heart leaps to his throat, taking his breath along with it. Time, the world - everything seems to fall away so it's just Jason and Peter. "Peter," he says. 'I love you' goes unspoken in the pause after his name.

Peter leans more into him, and Jason shivers, wanting running rampant through him. Images flicker and flash as his own eyelids flutter; him pressing Peter into the sheets, kissing every freckle and drawing all sorts of wonderful noises and that glorious flush of his cheeks he adores so much from him. Jason's chest tightens, and a moan falls from his lips. God, how he wants. He wants so much. Peter is the only one he wants. The heat burns within him as intensely as it did when they first started touching and exploring together. It almost scares Jason how much he loves that burning. How much he needs it.

He grins at the tugging on his shirt, only removing his hands from Peter's hair long enough to shed it. As Peter pulls Jason's pants down, his breathing roughens. "Seems rather unfair how naked I am and how very clothed you are," he jokes, though his voice is ragged.

And then Peter's mouth is on him, warm and beautiful and so very much everything Jason needs in this moment. "Fuck," he hisses, bringing his hands back to Peter's hair to find purchase their, trying to resist the urge to immediately start moving his hips. "God, Peter."

[paper_courage]

It happens a lot, Jason starting to say he loves Peter and stopping there before he has to deal with what it means, but with so much of what he wants so close to him, he can't dodge the true meaning, so he squeezes Jason's hips to return the silent declaration. And really, how does he expect to not comply with anything his own personal Adonis may want of him?

Still, he's not going to give in too easily, not without firing sass back at sass. He rocks back on his heels and pulls back only far enough to extract himself and stand up, fully clothed in front of Jason; Peter never feels more confident than when Jason hasn't seen him in a while and the need seems perfectly evenly distributed between them.

He misses Jason's touch already, so he makes quick work of pulling his button-up over his head, then his t-shirt. Instead of going for his pants, though, he wraps his arms back around Jason's neck and gives him the proper, hard, breathless kiss that he deserves.

[no_voice]

Jason swaggers into the nearly empty cafeteria, even in spite of the lack of crowds. Instinct takes over for him then; he's out of his perfect, secret world with Peter, and back to the harsh truths of the rest of the school. And he's memorized this particular dance perfectly - a wave to Zach, still looking good as last year, a charming smile and a smooth swerve to avoid a gaggle of girls offering him their numbers.

Every time they flash him those smiles, Jason wishes said smiles could inspire something in him.

Instead, they wrap themselves around his heart, like multiple nooses. And it's growing more difficult for Jason to get himself out of their reach.

He feels like he's walking across jagged glass in his bare feet just as he grabs his food. Suddenly, his appetite lessens.

He spots Nadia easily enough, sitting by herself alone in a table in the corner.

"You owe me," is the first thing she says to him before he even sits down.

"I know," he begins, knowing that he really does owe her for intervening the way she did. "Name your price. I am really, really grateful for this afternoon, Nadia."

Grateful enough that he can still feel Peter all over his skin as he waits for Peter to arrive.

[paper_courage]

It's come earlier each year, the longing and resentment. Alone together and it's all perfectly clear; actually alone, other things are clearer. That they're living a fantasy. That he particularly is kidding himself if he thinks that Jason is going to give everything up just for the doe eyes and smattering of freckles of his first love. Will he even be in the story he tells? Who will be hearing it? A part of Peter would rather be dead than live to see Jason get married, have a house, children. And what if, by then, Peter's part has been completely rewritten, or worse: forgotten.

When Peter comes to from this nightmare, he's standing in front of the bathroom mirror, his fingers working at his hair. He remembers leaving the room, but he doesn't remember actually coming into the bathroom. His bag is perched on the sink in front of him, unopened. Thankfully, he's alone. He unzips the bag, tugs out a towel, and decides screw it, he's going to take a shower. Jason can wait on him for a change.

By the time Peter is walking to the cafeteria, the anger has all but faded to a dull annoyance, a twinge of pain at the base of his head that throbs with secrets and lies. Time had been short, so Peter's in jeans and a sweater, but his hair looks exactly the way he wants it to. He's got his hands jammed in his pockets against the bite of the New York wind. He shoulders the door to the cafeteria open and is greeted by a few smiling faces as he goes to get his food. It's a mood enhancer, seeing people excited to see him. He gives Tanya another big hug and Lucas scoops him up with a way-too-loud laugh. He smells like pot.

Finally, with his tray, Peter makes his way over, extracting himself from his (much smaller than Jason's) crowd of admirers. He grins at Nadia and sets his tray down to give her a big hug.

"Nadia!" He squeezes her close. "I missed you." He tosses a quick smile at Jason, just so he knows everything's okay. It's time to reprise their roles anyway.

[no_voice]

Jason will never admit this to Peter, but every time Peter suggests Jason take up acting, as much as Jason actually does enjoy drama, the truth is, his whole life apart from Peter is an elaborate act set on a stage of a design meant to support a greatness he doesn't feel. Jason has every smile and charming flash of his eyes to the outside world down to an art; some days, he can almost fool himself.

But those days are rapidly shrinking; today certainly isn't one of those days. Jason talks and jokes with Nadia around their usual table. He listens to each of her personal grievances with certain teachers, and he offers all the wise, smartass advice she's come to expect from him as his twin.

His blue eyes shine so bright beneath the artificial lights so as to almost completely conceal the cracks beginning to show.

But Jason can feel each crack; each splinter and each sliver that unfurls the longer he tries to convince himself he can fit into the image designed for him. He swallows from his coke, ignoring the way his throat nearly closes on him.

It's happening more and more often these days. Jason can't help but wonder if it will all come to a head this year.

When Peter doesn't immediately appear in the cafeteria, Jason starts to worry. His eyes scan the entrance to the cafe as often as he feels safe allowing them too; Nadia, thankfully, doesn't seem to notice.

"Earth to Jason!" Suddenly, Nadia's hand is in front of his face, and Jason snaps to attention. Shit. He was staring. "I don't know what hair product you've been using, but clearly, you're using too much if you can't even listen for more than five seconds."

"Sorry, Nadia. Just thinking about track team and certain moves I need to practice," Jason smiles sheepishly, the way he's seen Peter do, and runs a hand through his hair. "You know how it is."

"Yes, I really do," she retorts with a lift of an eyebrow at that statement. "Considering how much running I do myself. Hey, Peter!"

Jason, on the inside, yearns for the freedom to simply walk up to Peter and pull him down into his lap at the table. He wants more than anything to wrap his arms around Peter as they sit and laugh together. An actual couple. But he's also frightened of how much he wants that. So he settles for returning Peter's grin and sneaking in a glancing of ankles beneath the table as Nadia wraps Peter up in a hug.

Jason almost feels like he's slowly choking from the inside out.

"Peter, it's good to see you," Nadia says, grinning bright. "I hope my brother didn't give you too much grief moving in and everything."

Jason shakes his head, hoping the quickness of the motion will be enough to hide his blush.

[paper_courage]

Jason's leg is looking for Peter's the moment Peter's knees break the threshold of the table and that thrills him -- it makes him feel needed. He needs to be needed after that lonely, downward-spiraling shower he's just managed to run away from.

Peter continues to hug Nadia for a few moments, happy to see the only other person Peter feels he shares his St. Cecilia's experience with, since he can do so out in the open. When he pulls away, he lets his eyes dart to Jason's for a second before he answers.

"Actually, no, he was very accommodating," Peter says pleasantly, resting his leg against Jason's. His eyes tell the perfect lie of innocence, and since Jason is touching him, he can even trick himself into believe that he doesn't ache to talk to Nadia about it. To an extent. There are certain things he does not wish to share with his boyfriend's twin sister. Anyway, this is the part of the game that thrills him a bit, sort of like flirting with damnation.

Despite being in a relatively unpopulated cafeteria, sitting with what feels like his real family, Peter is feeling exposed. Lucas and Tanya are sucking face in the corner, he can see Matt hovering by the door, hoping Ivy will come a day early like she never, ever does. There are many times that Peter catches Nadia stealing glances at Matt; he wishes he could tell her that he knows exactly how she feels.

"Hey, come on," Peter says, bumping her to get her attention back. "Tell me all about your summer. Jason started filling me in." But he likes to hear them tell stories together. The way they weave in and about of each other's narratives seamlessly. Sometimes, they even pause a story completely to go off in their little McConnell world on a tangent that Peter can't usually follow but still gets lost in. The rhythm of having a sibling, something Peter doesn't know. It also doesn't hurt to be around another person that loves Jason as completely as he does, however different that love may be. And he loves Nadia like his own sister. He wishes one day she could be.

[no_voice]

Jason feels better able to breathe the moment his leg brushes against Peter's. Suddenly, he's anchored to earth again; tethered when he could so easily float away into nothingness. Though he can't bring himself to admit out loud how much he needs Peter, he needs Peter so much more than the other boy can imagine. Jason feels complete and his smile turns genuine, a fact that will escape everyone but Peter. Jason's perfected his charming smile enough that it can even fool Nadia; but Peter knows him better than that. Peter knows him.

Their eyes meet in a flash; a spark of light between two lovers dancing in the dark. Jason allows that spark to wash over him. He lets out a stuttering sigh he manages to disguise as a laugh at Peter's answer.

"See? I know you don't believe it, Nadia, but I can be generous," Jason replies airily, even as he moves one hand so that he's glancing the side of Peter's leg. He's losing more control of himself, even out in the open of prying eyes. That's what Peter does to him. Among so many other things. Things so sublime and transcendent that they steal Jason's breath away. And in a way, he, too, enjoys this game of disguising their words in front of his sister. There's a thrill to it like the thrill of the chase, even as part of Jason wants desperately to tell her.

"When it suits you," Nadia retorts with a roll of her eyes. "Pray tell, did he actually let you pick your bed first? Or was he just late from avoiding our parents. I'm charging interest based on how long I had to suffer them for you, by the way."

"Alright, alright," Jason waves his free hand and shakes his head, curls bouncing in time with his movements. "Duly noted, little sister."

"If you insist then," Nadia says, as if she weren't waiting for someone to pose that exact question to her. She offers Peter a beaming look; one that she shares with Jason and proves the truth of their relationship as brother and sister when they so otherwise look nothing alike. "Let's see, lots of attempts from mom to get me on a diet. Again."

"Don't forget Dad's helpful suggestions," Jason interrupts with a knowing grin, his expression turning a little dark. God, he hates summer vacation. Especially this past summer vacation.

"How could I? 'Maybe you should join the track team, like Jason,'" Nadia imitates in her best, gruff voice.

"Except I quit last semester," Jason says, innocently, as one of his fingers traces against the side of Peter's leg.

"But he doesn't know that," Nadia says.

"Thank God," Jason says, his tone light though his expression is obviously strained.

[paper_courage]

"I think we're still working that out," Peter says, turning his head toward Jason for confirmation. "We got side-tracked getting caught up." It wasn't a lie, really, and even if it was, the statement wouldn't be accounted for in Peter's next confession. 'I lied to protect my secret relationship' is too incendiary in a small Catholic school and he's not going to jeopardize the only thing he has going for him. If the price is eternal damnation, he will accept it with as much grace and dignity as he can muster.

Through the McConnell siblings' easy banter, Peter can't help but detect a note of darkness; he notices that it's weighing heavier on Jason than usual. This means that when Peter had nearly ripped Jason's clothes off a little over an hour ago, he'd missed the telltale signs of a tense summer break at McConnell Manor. He shifts his body so he is nearly leaned against Jason (he can use the excuse of it being a small bench at a small table) and he gives a gentle, soothing caress to the inside of Jason's knee. His fingertips pad over the denim in soft, loving little waves: a promise to hold him while he kisses the love he deserves into each careless bruise and welt.

When he catches up to the conversation from his compassionate trance, his head snaps to Jason. "You quit?" He's incredulous, since he's pretty sure track was one of Jason's strongest escapes from his feelings. Does this mean something? Or does this mean that he can't run fast enough to get ahead of his baggage and now it's time for another feat of strength?

[no_voice]

"Yeah, you know how it is," Jason falls into the routine beautifully, nodding while allowing a bit of that secret smile he reserves just for Peter sneak into the grin he flashes at him. "One thing leading to another. We haven't seen each other for months! You couldn't get us to shut up." He knows this act so well; plays out this scene every time he prays, asking God for strength. Jason could recite this entire conversation in his sleep.

Jason and Nadia's banter endures throughout their recalling of summer vacation, flowing easily between them the way conversations flow easily between Jason and Peter. Nadia, of course, has her own burdens to deal with. Jason wishes he could do more for her; he knows the way his parents favor him. He knows how his mother constantly harps at Nadia over her appearance. Jason wishes he were strong enough to risk more of his father's wrath to defend her. Bt he's a coward, in so many ways.

He leans into Peter, entirely grateful for the closeness and how easy it is for them to get away with it so openly. He moves his hand to cover Peter's on his knee, letting their fingers entwine as he returns the gesture, moved by it, and answering, in his own way, how very much he can't wait to get back to their dorm room. Jason is so glad for Peter in that moment, he forgets, for a moment, to fear that feeling.

"Yeah, I thought I told you," Jason shrugs. Quitting track feels as weighty as quitting the golf team sophomore year. He knows he'll be in for one hell of a conversation with his father for it; one he'll most likely feel the morning after. "I quit track so I can focus on my schoolwork. Track and basketball were too much for me."

[paper_courage]

Peter drops his head to hide the way he's blushing, but he knows it's too late. He spoons some vegetables into his mouth to try and distract himself from the rush he feels. He knows Nadia's eyes are on him and deep down he knows that she knows what's going on. Then Jason makes such a good case for living in a whole separate place -- it's not until Peter's without him that he realizes that Jason's carefully-constructed reasoning doesn't make any real-world sense. Under Nadia's watchful eyes (that match Jason's perfectly), Peter feels like he wants to explode outward and call an elephant-sized spade a spade. But no, they're touching, and Peter's mouth has made the call to stay silent and ignore the wild, frantic screaming coming from his heart. When Jason's hand covers Peters, hot and grateful and sweet, he can't even hear it over the beat of his racing heart.

Ashamed as he'd be to admit it, he's drifting in and out of their conversation, even as they weave their way through the summer's events. He comes too to offer support to Nadia, a quip for Jason, but more of his consciousness is sliding down to their hands. Whether he realizes it or not, Jason is holding his hand in the cafeteria. He knows no one can see it, but to him, this moment is precious and fragile and he's afraid that movement will shatter it; so he stays very still as he speaks.

"I told my mom I would look into the Young Republicans. I guess we're all liars," he says with a little laugh. Every lie shaves off a little more confidence in Peter's mortal soul; when he laughs, it's very forced.

"What has Catholic school done to us?" Nadia demands, and this time when Peter laughs, it's not fake at all.

By the time the laughter subsides, Peter's lost in the hard, warm shape of his boyfriend against him. They're making eye contact as Peter tries to read this new information in the tempestuous darkness of Jason's blue eyes. Either Jason is shutting Peter down, or whatever motivated this new development is foreign even to Jason. Touch wins out over getting answers again, so Peter breaks the eye contact before the need to kiss Jason makes him do something to demolish their all-important private world together.

"I'm glad you've decided to take it easy." And yet, Peter wonders if it's a coincidence that Jason's given up the activity that practices at the same time that theatre rehearsals take place. He's not sure he could take being shut down, so he lets the thought find its way down to that place where the secrets and questions do their haunting, dizzy dance.

[no_voice]

It's such a simple gesture, holding hands. Jason relishes the way their fingers slide together, calloused skin twining with soft skin to forge a link between two souls. Jason loves taking Peter's hand even as the fear of loving it licks at the back of his mind like waves creeping onto the early morning shores. That simple touch keeps his heart steady; it anchors him in a sea of whirling, impending judgement and inevitable failure at fitting into the frame molded for him hovering just at the edge of the horizon. While Peter blushes, Jason savors the warmth of their connection with a genuine smile he'll pass off as a side effect of the roast beef on his plate. Even as he's hardly touched a bite of it.

Jason pours himself into the balancing act between embellishing Nadia's tales with his own snark and letting thoughts and images of Peter and his freckles and those lips and eyes, God, wash over him. Peter, from his proximity, can probably catch the way Jason's blue eyes glaze into a soft shade like porcelain occasionally. Jason needs their held hands to steady him; to support him. He's beginning to become aware that there is only so long this balancing act can continue.

"The Young Republicans? Jesus," Jason replies, fondly rolling his eyes. "Speaks to your acting then, that she believed you." He waggles an eyebrow at Peter, which he can easily explain as a friendly jest to anyone else watching them but which also contains a message loaded with how likely he thinks it to be that Peter ever joins said group.

"Turned us all into a bunch of heathens," Jason proclaims, falling right in to Nadia's tone with a playful one of his own. "I'm sure our parents would be so proud."

"Some of us more than others," Nadia points out. Jason, while intelligent, harbors a tendency for obliviousness; he all but misses the knowing undertone to his sister's words. Most likely because he keeps making eye contact with Peter, and leaning further into him as much as he can get away with. At one point, his breath hitches, and he's certain Peter can feel it with how close they are.

"Me too," Jason replies, casually. He can hardly admit that the idea that he can now go out for drama appeals to him as much as finally quitting a sport upheld only for the approval of his parents; he still has to admit to himself that he much prefers acting to sports, first.

[paper_courage]

Questions like 'why is this happening,' keep leaping out of his consciousness, but he keeps stuffing that all back down in favor of this dangerously perfect moment; until Jason is leaning in to him. God, he wants to kiss Jason so badly that he can clearly see it in his mind's eye: Nadia stopping dead in her tracks, Jason melting into him. He can feel the tense silence that would clearly accompany this incredibly bold move. The consequences would stack up quickly: they'd be ostracized, expelled, disowned, and completely alone. There's no way Jason would ever look at him again if he caused that sort of a spiral. Peter would never forgive himself -- Peter already can't forgive himself for living a lie.

That darkness creeps up so fast that Peter breaks eye contact, nearly unable to catch his breath for a moment. Recovery comes quickly, but he can still feel the panic tightening around his hammering heart. Too close. Not close enough. He'd almost choked on these divergent feelings.

"I'm gonna go get a drink," he says quickly. He's light-headed, a little, and thankful he'd forgotten to get water before he sat down. He needs to get away. He wants to be closer. This is killing him already.

"Do you guys want anything?" His hand drops from Jason's as he stands. Fuck, his brain replies, and he's being pulled in by the tide so quickly that he doesn't even have the time to feel guilty about it.

"Something diet," Nadia supplies. There's a note of darkness that isn't just from her newest blow to her self-worth. With all of his remaining might, he shoves down the knowledge that Nadia knows something is up and probably even knows what it is.

[no_voice]

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.

[paper_courage]

How can Jason do that? The flagrance of the other boy's act starts a wildfire in the dryness of his throat. There's Jason, pretending like this isn't killing him, and here Peter is, actually choking on all of the shit he's tired of being afraid of. This is it, Peter thinks, the perfect snapshot of their relationship. He tucks it away; the darkest part of Peter taunts him for his weakness in both faith and self-preservation.

"Sure," Peter manages to choke out. A sharp left at the drink station puts Peter in the men's room. Here he is again, staring at himself in the mirror as the war wages within him -- a war with such casualties.

Peter finds himself looking up. Was there a point in trying to have this conversation again? Was he already so clutched after only a few hours that he's praying in the St. Cecilia's cafeteria bathroom? That can't bode well.

Anything but peacefully, Peter's eyes slip closed. His head tips back down, forehead resting against the cold mirror. He asks for strength but he never asks for distance from Jason. At best, he asks forgiveness for what he does to Jason; the way he makes Jason feel. The things that he makes him do. How Peter feels no actual guilt over the way that he feels. He knows he's not worthy of the things he begs for.

In a few moments' time, Peter is upright and adjusting his appearance -- hair, face, shirt. He looks like he does any other time to a layperson: composed, secretive Peter, studying too hard to think about girls, juggling clubs and rehearsals and honors classes. Peter, the golden boy's dorky-but-cute roommate that barely even registers on the high school radar. Attentive Peter, who still manages to bring back everyone's drinks despite the schism he fell into in the bathroom.

"Nadia, I got you Dr. Pepper," Peter says, plunking the drink in front of her as he swings his legs over the bench to sit back down next to Jason. He still dares not look at his best friend.

"Alright, but when this goes straight to my ass, I'm gonna tell my mom it's your fault," she intones in faux-disappointment. She gets to it on her drink while Peter sets Jason's lemonade in front of him. Bonus points for Peter as he manages to push out a little laugh at Nadia's Nadia-esque antics around a sip of his water.