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

[no_voice]

Jason grins as Peter moves off him and begins the motions for actually being somewhat productive in going to dinner. He yawns contentedly at the kiss Peter places to his throat, relishing the softness of his lips against the vulnerable skin of his neck. He knows Peter is well-aware of how much he likes to be kissed there.

He turns his gaze briefly to their entwined hands before bringing his big, blue eyes to meet Peter's glance. "And what noise is that, pray tell? I seem to recall you being fond of many noises I make." Jason's tendency towards being a smartass comes second-nature to him. He always wonders what part of the family he and Nadia inherit that trait from; certainly not either of their parents. He grins into the brief kiss bestowed by Peter, and then he's rolling to move into a sitting position himself.

He catches his own pants with a smirk. "Nearly forgot I even needed these, really," he remarks as he begins dressing himself. His own muscle memories from those nights kicks back in as well, and he's dressed within moments. He manages to ruffle his hair into something that almost looks presentable; something he'll explain away as a memento of a quick rugby match. Or something sports related.

He moves to stand behind Peter, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him against his chest. Smirking, he leans into Peter's mussed hair and kisses it, before ruffling it just to be a jerk. "Yeah, I can meet you there," he says, grateful to Peter for making the suggestion. "I'm sure Nadia will be at our usual table already."

[paper_courage]

Anger in the form of hurt and disappointment shoots through Peter like he's been shocked. For the hundredth time, Peter tells himself that it's too soon to feel this resentment, to think of the boy that he loves as a coward for being afraid of eventuality. So, he takes a deep, deep breath and turns in Jason's arms to face him. His smile is a little forced, but it doesn't take long for him to settle into it when he sees that gorgeous face and the way tenderness slackens its muscles when their eyes meet. It's every time, without fail.

He'd only added insult to injury when Peter's hair had been brought into the fray.

"It might take me longer now," he teases, using the that reflected tenderness to sooth his aching soul. "God knows what you just did to it." He's walked down the hall to the bathroom in worse states, though. All discretion is taken out of the post-sex shower when you have to run down the hall to get to the bathroom.

"I'll see you there," he continues. Peter presses his lips against Jason's for a quick second -- his stomach drops as it always does -- and then he's turning to go. He's looking forward to using the time he has to sublimate his longing and frustration into styling his hair just right.