Summary: Peter helps Jason rehearse.

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

My Unworthiest Hand

"Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer."

"Then move not while my prayer's effect I take," Jason started to lean in but I stopped him.

"No, you skipped a line. After that you're supposed to say 'O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do'," I pushed him away and smacked him with the script.

"Well I might know that if you let me see the book," he protested, rubbing his arm where I'd hit him.

"You asked me to help you memorize your lines, you're never going to do that if you always have the book in front of you." He reached for it again and I was forced to resort to closing it and sitting on it.

"That's not fair."

"Sorry baby, life isn't fair," I picked the book up again and reopened it to the right scene.

"But this isn't life, this Romeo and Juliet," he sighed and flopped back onto the pillows. I closed the script again and put it on the bedside table. When I looked over at Jason he had his eyes closed, his face was set, and he was silently mouthing his lines. I went over and lay down next to him, leaning my arms on his chest and looking down at him. I smiled and kissed him, giggling against his lips when he grasped the back of my head to pull me closer. He pulled away and opened his eyes, "Why can't you play Juliet?"

"Because it's not the 1500s, and as much as I would love to make out with you in front of the entire school, playing a girl is not exactly how I would like to achieve that," I kissed him again and rolled over so I was no longer on top of him. He turned to look at me and held out his hand, I took it and smiled.

"Give me my cue again? I promise I wont mess up this time," he pouted and I rolled my eyes, lacing our fingers together.

"Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer," I looked at him pointedly, daring him to skip the line again, but he just looked right back.

"O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray: grant thou, lest faith turn to despair," he grinned at me, not even bothering to hide the look of victory behind it.

"Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake." He shifted so that he was resting on his elbow and staring down at me, his other hand still holding mine possessively.

He leaned in until our foreheads were touching before letting out the softest of whispers, "Then move not while my prayer's effect I take," he closed any distance that remained between our lips, kissing me slowly, softly and territorially. I held him exactly where he was, using my free hand to grasp the back of his neck. After a while, when he didn't pull back, it took all of my self control not to forget about what we were really supposed to be doing. It took some time, but I finally managed to push him away, despite his physical protests, and my mental protests.

"What about the rest of the scene?" I asked, keeping a hand on his chest so he couldn't lean in to kiss me again.

"Screw the rest of the scene."

I laughed, "Yeah, that would make an interesting show. But seriously, can we just get to the end of the scene, it's only a few more lines. Please?" I wanted to drop everything just as much as he did, but I also knew that Sister Chantelle would have his head on a silver platter if he showed up to rehearsal and didn't know his lines.

"Fine. It's still me right?" I nodded and he continued, pausing every few words to kiss me. "Thus from my lips... by thine... my sin is purged."

"Then have my lips the sin... that they have took."

"Sin from my lips?... O trespass... sweetly urged... give me my sin again," and that was it. Nothing more was going to get done, and thankfully, we had saved this for last so we wouldn't have any unfinished homework, because there was no way we would be able to stop at this point. I clutched his shirt with my free hand, while he cupped the side of my face, pressing us closer together than I even thought was possible. Oxygen was beginning to become an issue, and it was times like these that I resented a human's need to breathe. Finally we broke apart, shirts untucked, hands still clutching each other firmly, and we were both panting heavily.

"Wow, who would have thought you'd get so turned on by Shakespeare," I'd known for a while how exciting it was, but it was new to Jason and as far as I could tell, he was liking it.

"Yeah, who knew?" he laughed a little before shifting do that my back was to him and we were spooned against one another, a protective arm wrapped around me as I toyed with the hand that was still holding mine. "So, do you think I'll do okay tomorrow?"

"I'm sure you will. Just as long as you don't get too lost in the words and end up making a spectacle of yourself by ripping Ivy's shirt off in the middle of the stage," I giggled and he groaned, having apparently forgotten who he was actually going to be kissing come the next day's rehearsal.

The arm around my waist tightened a little, "I don't want to kiss Ivy, she's too good a friend to be romantic with, and it will feel even worse with you standing right there," his voice sounded guilty.

"Don't worry about it, as long as you make sure to keep in on stage and nowhere else, I'm fine with it," and I was, that was part of being a good actor anyway, stage love rarely reflected the actual feelings that the two people felt for each other.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure, stop being so paranoid," I squeezed his hand in reassurance.

"I'm not being paranoid, I just want to make sure you know and that you're okay with it," Jason insisted.

"I'll be fine with it, on one condition."

"And what is that?"

"On stage you can be whoever the hell you want to be, and you can be in love with whoever the hell you want to be in love with, as long as the second you break character you're back to being Jason," I turned slightly so I could look him in the eyes.

"And as Jason I'm only in love with you?" I nodded. "Now who's the paranoid one?"

"I think we both are. But that's not a bad thing, it just means we're looking out for each other. I always thought I would know I was in love when I got jealous anyway," I turned back and fixed my eyes on our entwined hands.

"Peter..."

"Yeah?"

"Do you think we're star crossed?" I smiled at his question, and I'm sure I was blushing.

"I don't know. I like to imagine we are. How exactly do you find something like that out?"

"Good question, we're certainly nothing like Romeo and Juliet," he remarked.

"How do you figure?" I asked.

"Well, they fell in love before they even knew each other's names, got married the next day, and killed themselves three days after that. We on the other hand, knew each other for two years before we even kissed," he explained, walking his fingers up and down my arm.

"I don't know about you, but I was in love way before you got up the nerve to give me that kiss," I giggled a little and poked him.

"You weren't the only one. And what do you mean you like to imaginewe are?" he asked.

"Think about it. Both of our parents decided to send us away to school when we were twelve, we some how end up in the same school and the same room, we stay roommates through the rest of middle school, then get to high school only to find out that-guess what-we're still roommates. I just like to pretend it wasn't all some big coincidence... Because that way, it wouldn't be wrong, it wouldn't be a sin, and we could say 'screw you' to anyone who thought otherwise, because you can't fuck with fate," I smiled in spite of myself. We did our best to avoid the topic all together, simply because having it at the forefront of our minds wouldn't change anything, not this late in the game at least, so it was pointless to dwell on. I was right though, fate can't be fucked with, and what's written in the stars can't be rewritten.

"Then it wasn't a coincidence. It's whatever the hell we want it to be, okay?" I nodded and he kissed me on the cheek, "I love you."

"I love you too, Jason."