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The food at the diner is– fine. Perry remembers it tasting much better than it does now; he’s not sure if it’s because the old owner retired, or if it’s because he’s been thinking about this place with rose-colored glasses, like he does with all his memories of Peter.
Whatever. What matters is that he and Peter are actually eating, together, at the same run-down chicken place they used to frequent every weekend from fourth grade until senior year. Yeah, maybe the food is a little dry, and yeah, the fries have gone lukewarm, but still. They’re here, and that means something to Perry, who’s always been too sentimental for his own good. He hopes, fleetingly, that it means something to Peter, too, but he dismisses that quickly.
Peter’s got food flecked on his chin, and there’s a little bit of the spicy sauce on the left corner of his lower lip. Perry wants to recreate one of their high school memories, when he’d leaned over and wiped Peter’s face for him and Peter’d let it happen, not caring who saw and what they had to think about it. He doesn’t, because that would be overstepping, he’s pretty sure. He doesn’t, but he wants to.
Peter finishes chewing, wipes his mouth and hands with a napkin, and signs at Perry. How have you been? Perry is almost-but-not-quite startled by the question; he’s the one who invited Peter out to reconnect, but he’s done very little reconnecting, to the point where Peter was now taking initiative. It sends a shiver through his heart, the fact that Peter actually cares enough to try. That might be pathetic—almost definitely is, to be honest—but Perry’s always had low standards.
“I’ve been good. I’m glad my assignment is in town.” It’s a generic, totally meaningless response, and Perry only says it to watch for any reaction from Peter—maybe a sadness in his eyes at the mention of their assignments, since Peter’s leaving soon for Seattle.
He has no such reaction, just politely nods, like it’s what he expected to hear. And maybe it is: small talk has never been big with any OWCA staff, always too busy planning how best to defeat evil. Still, Perry feels himself deflate, but pushes through anyway. He wants this to work, wants to have a nice time hanging out with Peter before they never see each other again.
“How are you? I hear Seattle gets pretty cold.” This time, Peter does react, signing out a proper response.
It does. I think it’ll grow on me, though. I’m not a big fan of the heat.
“I know, you always get too warm during summer.” Maybe he sounds too overly familiar for someone Peter hasn’t seen in ten years, but they knew each other for longer than that before they lost touch, and Peter doesn’t seem bothered by it, so neither is he. “Remember when you got dress-coded for taking your hat off during training?” Perry’s grinning a little wider than he probably should, but Peter just rolls his eyes fondly and his mouth twitches upwards.
Yes, actually, I do remember that, because it was the stupidest reason to get dress-coded I’ve ever heard in my life. Remember when you got dress-coded for wearing slippers to science class? Perry dramatizes his reaction a little, playing up his mock-offense.
“I only had slippers on because someone forgot their sneakers for PE. But since you want to be ungrateful…” He pretends like he’s about to stand up, stopping when Peter snorts and waves him back into his seat. It’s a little awkward, all the old memories, but it’s nice. They’re both smiling now, and the ice hasn’t quite been broken, but it’s thawing. Peter’s dark, dark eyes are staring into Perry’s, and he feels light in a way he hasn’t for years.
The waiter comes by their table, and Perry picks up the check, stopping Peter’s attempts to pay instead. He relents easily enough, and they finish up their food while they wait for his card to be returned. When Perry’s done eating, Peter is only about halfway through his meal, although he has always been a slow eater. Still, Perry can’t help feeling impatient to– to what, he’s not entirely sure. He doesn’t want to say goodbye to Peter, wants to spend as much time as possible with him, but being in the diner, their diner, brings back memories that he knows will only hurt him later. He’s been thinking about how many of their meals here ended, with the two of them alone, and the nostalgia is making him feel all kinds of ways, feelings he’s not sure how to explain to Peter, who notices immediately when he starts fidgeting.
Can you call over the waiter? I want a to-go box. Perry nods, silently grateful for Peter’s attention to detail, and before he knows it they’re walking out of the diner back to Perry’s teal Nissan which brought both of them here. The car’s new enough that Peter’d never seen it before Perry picked him up in it, and he’d wasted no time poking fun at the bright coloring. Perry, in return, poked fun at how he still had the same beat up truck from high school, and they’d both shared a meaningful (at least, to Perry) look, remembering everything that truck had seen.
Now, though, Peter doesn’t make fun of the car, just getting in like he belongs there, like it’s the easiest, most natural thing in the world to get in Perry’s car. For the second time of the night, Perry’s brought back to memories of Peter’s truck, how they’d roll the windows down and blast music on the weekends, staying out past their curfews to just sit and talk and sometimes, if Peter was feeling permissive, make out a little, too.
He shivers, just slightly, but it’s not cold out.
Perry slides into the driver’s seat, buckles his seatbelt, and then— he stops. He’s overcome with a desperation so strong that even someone as emotionally dense as Peter notices immediately, as evidenced by his quizzical head tilt, but Perry suddenly can’t bring himself to care about seeming desperate. He is desperate, desperate for more time with Peter, desperate to not let this be how they end. So instead of starting the car, he turns to face Peter and spits out the first thing that comes to mind.
“My place isn’t far from here. My host family is nice, you’ll like them.” Peter’s face shifts, near-imperceptibly, before he grins. Not the small up-quirks his mouth has been making this whole time, but a full-on grin, the same one he’s had since they were kids. Perry feels like a teenager again, awkward and eager and head-over-heels for someone who’s never felt as strongly about Perry as he does for Peter.
Are you inviting me to find out? Somehow, Perry is able to stop himself from crying about this, which—wow, okay, a lot of strong emotions are hitting him all at once, and literally all Peter’s done is insinuate he might be interested in meeting Perry’s host family—which shouldn’t be a big deal, but to Perry, it is, and he’s sure Peter knows it from how he’s still grinning at him encouragingly.
He grins back, a little softer than Peter’s. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” Peter nods, and then it’s the two of them again, how they used to be before everything, and Perry can finally breathe because Peter really does still care. Peter cares so much, in fact, to the point where he’s willing to meet Perry's family even though they haven’t seen each other in literally ten years.
Perry’s still smiling at Peter when he sees his face shift, and when he begins to tentatively sign out a request that Perry used to be the one making. Can I stay the night? And Perry actually laughs at that, not unkindly, but just because it’s so ridiculous for Peter to ask him that, as if Perry would ever say no to him. Peter picks up on his intentions, pushing his shoulder lightly as a slight reprimand for laughing at him. But then he doesn’t remove his hand, and he doesn’t move away, and Perry realizes he’s also moved closer to Peter, and now that he’s not laughing anymore the situation feels so intense that he actually does answer, just to break the sudden silence.
“Yeah, you can. I’d like that, actually.” Peter’s grin has softened into something smaller, more intimate, and Perry feels like he’s going crazy but he can’t help how everything reminds him of what they used to be together and so he just blurts it out. “Can I kiss you?” And yeah, it’s not the most suave way he could’ve brought it up, but Peter leans in that little bit more and then their mouths are pressed together.
Perry’s kissed Peter before, more times than he can count—more times than he even remembers—but this still feels special, like it’s their first kiss all over again. It’s nice, a little different from how Perry remembers kissing Peter was, but they’re different too, so it feels appropriate. It’s over before he’s ready to let it end, though, but he lets Peter pull away and readjust in his seat. He readjusts a little, too, feeling dazed from the sensation of Peter’s mouth on his.
Perry finally fires up the engine, sneaking glances at Peter, who he catches looking back at him and smiling lightly. He feels oddly content; he’s sure that in the morning, that ache will come back when Peter leaves, but for now it’s been placated, and he tries to let that feeling take control. Peter jacks his phone into the aux and starts playing a song Perry doesn’t know the lyrics to but has heard every single time he and Peter have even been in a car together, and he can’t stop himself, he leans over and kisses Peter again, quickly, because he has so much love inside himself to give to him.
Peter signs back in response to his impulsiveness. What was that for? It’s teasing, but still a little confused, and Perry’s still consumed by how much he loves Peter.
“I love you,” he answers, and it’s not the first time he’s said it but it’s been so long that Perry feels dread creep up his back, because what if Peter doesn’t want to hear it? But Peter’s still smiling at him, and he huffs a short laugh, so Perry relaxes again. Peter doesn’t say it back, but Perry doesn’t expect him to; he knows Peter doesn’t love him back, not like that, not in the way Perry loves him. He’s known that since high school, and he’s long since made peace with it, because he knows Peter loves him in his own way.
They drive off in Perry’s teal car, and he can almost pretend they’re still teenagers with curfews racing home. The fantasy is familiar and warm, but getting worn-out; nostalgic, but Perry thinks it might be time for something new to replace his rose-colored memories of high school. He looks over at Peter, who’s nodding his head to the music still playing and drumming his hand on the dashboard in time. He looks at Peter and sees him at every age they’ve ever known each other, not just the ages where he’s been in love with him but also everything that came before that and thinks that yeah, he’s found a replacement.