Most of Jason's belongings were abandoned the last time he went back to his parent's home -- a clusterfuck that's better ignored than dwelled on, and he's been doing his best. It's a few scattered boxes of clothes and the very few things with sentimental value, no furniture, nothing that's really going to take up space.

Not that he really cares, considering pretty much all of it was his parents' choices anyway. The fresh start is probably better, even if saving the money would have been nice.

Jason's rustling through a box trying to figure out where the blankets and the towels are, since everything else can basically wait for tomorrow, but he slides up behind Peter when he's got the last box set down, looping an arm around his waist and hooking his chin over Peter's shoulder. "It'll look like more when it's unpacked."

And more important, it's a bed, and a roof, and Peter. The last part still kind of makes him feel like pinching himself sometimes to make sure it's real.