disclaimer: own nothing.
dedication: just a little something for laura (aka words-in-wind), who is six parts crazy and twelve parts awesome. this isn't what i promised you and i know this isn't one of your prompts, laura, but still—it's a romans-centric fic. that has to count for something, right? AND this fic is also for jc because she's awesome and i love her to pieces and mostly everything i write is for her anyway. i already cross-posted this on tumblr, so yeah, you can check it out there as well. but anyway, here, have some jeyna fluff. god knows how much we need this.
more notes: this came out a little longer than i originally planned, but not really. i'm supposed to be studying for the big exam tomorrow, but ugh, i swear, jeyna is like a drug to me, i just can't stay away.
warnings: a little rushed, maybe, and definitely ooc, but whatever. come talk to me about it, okay?
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like it or not, i'm all you've got
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This should be strange, Reyna thinks as Jason leads her to his villa where they find Bobby and Dakota already there, laying haphazardly on the floor, surrounded by blankets and pillows, Gwen lounging on his bed a few feet away, their faces glowing a pale blue in the television light.
She's a little uneasy and more than a bit nervous and perhaps it must have shown because—C'mon, Jason says when she hesitates in the doorway. He is smiling—always, always smiling—as he holds out a hand for her to take. Reyna sighs, smiles back after another moment's hesitation, and lets him drag her into the villa.
On the couch, she finds herself wedged between Jason and Gwen, blankets bunched around her legs and a pillow pressed against her neck. Outside the sun dips over the horizon, the last of its watercolor rays seeping through the window behind them and she stiffens, ever so slightly, when Jason's hand brushes against her fingers as he reaches for the popcorn sitting in her lap, and if Gwen notices the way her breath hitches, she merely grins, doesn't say anything.
They make fun of old movies and order in; burn their tongues on some hot chocolate. Bobby complains that Dakota's cup has more cinnamon than his, but his friend pays him no mind, intent as he is on finishing his third flask of cool-aid before Gwen notices anything amiss.
And it's is strange, Reyna thinks distantly and watches as Jason laughs at something Gwen tells him; allows her lips to quirk when Dakota cracks an eye open just as Bobby is about to give him another eyepatch to match the one he'd just drawn not even two minutes before. She'd never admit it, she'd never tell anyone, but it's easy with them. She feels almost safe here with Gwen's head on her lap and Jason's feet tangling with hers; Dakota's knees brushing against her own as Bobby sprawls out haphazardly in front of them, doing something as mundane as eating pizza and watching movies so bad that they actually succeed making her eyes water and her stomach hurt from laughing all night.
Around 2am the atmosphere turns quiet. Bobby and Dakota have long since passed their drunken rowdiness, their laughter fading into whisper-shouts and quiet snoring. Gwen is curled up next to Dakota, blankets bunched around her shoulders and her feet poking out, half-eaten pizzas lying abandoned in their boxes around them as the television continues to blare. The pillows feel impossibly good against her skin and she is almost dozing off when Jason leans forward, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear when he says, voice low and rough against her skin, "See?"
She turns her head to look at him, but she finds that she doesn't have to move so much to do so—they're pressed together from hip to shoulder and she realizes with a sudden start, that her hand is very nearly cradled in his. "What is it?"
"I told you," Jason says with a small grin. He opens his eyes for a brief moment to look at her, but Reyna can see the exhaustion beginning to creep around them—they're starting to close. "We're pack".
Words hardly ever mean anything these days, that much Reyna knows, but his paint an ache in her chest, a dull twisting in her heart she swears she won't be able to handle any longer if he keeps on staring at her like it's supposed to mean something.
They are silent for a while, and then: "Reyna," he starts, when she doesn't say anything and—Don't, she wants to say. You're an idiot, she wants to say. I know, she wants to say.
"Go to sleep, Grace," she says instead, rolling her eyes a little as she does so. Jason laughs right then, lashes sweeping over blue eyes as he sinks back into the headrest. His fingers trace idle patterns into her palms and she is just about to say something, just about to pull away when he leans forward and presses the smallest of kisses into her hair, lingering there for a beat longer before pulling away.
"What—" she starts, distantly aware of her heart seizing silently in her chest, but Jason's head has fallen into her shoulder, his nose cool on her collarbone and his breath warm against her neck. She looks at down at her hand cradled in his and peels his fingers away from hers; swallows down whatever it was she wanted to say only moments before.
"Idiot," she says, because she means it, the fondness in her voice warm and unbidden. She thinks he might've smiled in his sleep, but Reyna doesn't know. She can't be sure.
The room is quiet; the television no longer whispers. The sound of his breathing is warm and oddly comforting, and dimly, Reyna wonders if she was ever allowed to be this close to him before. Probably not though. She never allowed herself to be close to anyone, but Reyna realizes now, a little too late, how she let her guard fall around him, how she always lets her guard fall around him.
She doesn't think she'll be able to sleep, but she wakes to find their positions reversed—her head on his chest and his arm around her waist—and Bobby and Gwen cashing out their bets, Dakota shooting them knowing smiles over his shoulder when he walks past.
Her cheeks burn in a way they haven't in a long time and she's warm all over, though she isn't sure if that's because of the sudden burst of embarrassment or if it's something else entirely.
The smell of pine and honey though, and the warmth of sunshine on her cheeks is a different story altogether and she smiles into Jason's shoulder, brief and cutting, because there's no one to see it.
It feels like home, she allows herself to think, and she's not really surprised that she wouldn't have it any other way.
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fin.