AU inspired by SomethingMoreCreative's The Scene at the Bar punk!Percabeth collection—check it out, it's great! This is my version of what happened with Jason. punk(ish)!Jason and normal!Reyna. Jeyna! Please read and leave a review! There may be a sequel...
By the way, I changed my username from KillHateAvenge to time-failed-us, just to clear up any confusion. How d'you guys like it? It's obviously Jeyna inspired... if you get the meaning. :)
Now onto the story!
Once the last note of Percy's ending guitar solo had played, Jason threw his microphone down on the ground with a flourish, grinning madly when he heard the satisfying thud. Sure, their band, comprised of him as the lead singer, Percy as the awesome guitarist, Leo at the keyboard and Nico at the drums played once a week at this bar, but the feeling after they'd just nailed it was still amazing. Adrenaline throbbed through Jason's veins as he went over to his bandmates and high-fived them. He jumped off the stage, wanting a drink to ease his hoarse throat.
Making his way through the crowded bar, Jason was stopped by a handful of fans (mostly girls) to get his signature or a selfie. He happily complied. This was the fun thing about playing at a bar—not the money nor the free drinks (though those were highly essential), but having a little recognition without being too overly famous. That was pretty cool for a guy still in high school, eh?
As Jason swept his sky blue gaze over the crowds, he caught sight of Perce hitting it off with a pretty, curly-haired blonde. Eh, not really his type. Jason didn't have a type, though. Not exactly. It was the phrase, okay? No judging, please. He glanced over to where Leo was trying to flirt with a huddle of girls, and surprisingly, being a little successful. Nico, usually the shy one, was talking to the DJ, and laughing. Okay, that was weird, Nico only seldom laughed. Jason smirked.
After a few more selfies and girls insistently pulling on his shirt (no way in hell was he going home with a ripped shirt), Jason finally made it to the bar, waving for the bartender to give him his usual. To his surprise, there was an unfamiliar girl sitting in his usual seat.
She had silky raven hair that was braided and tossed over her right shoulder. She wore a see-through loose white T-shirt thingy (Jason was not really into fashion) and a purple tank top underneath, with ripped blue skinny jeans. Jason frowned, more out of curiosity than displeasure.
"Aren't you a little colourful for a punk rock bar?" he asked, his voice playful, as he moved to sit next to her. The girl turned to him, raising her eyebrow. Jason suddenly regretted his first comment—that was not the way to flirt with gorgeous girls. He mentally hit his head on the table, but managed to hide it with a smirk.
The girl's obsidian eyes travelled from his face down to his bashed-up Converse. Jason felt extremely insecure when she was looking at him like that.
"Aren't you a little happy, then?" she answered.
Jason frowned. "I'm not emo, it's punk rock. Aren't we being a little stereotypical of people who can wear black?"
"Then why is your hair normal?"
"Here we are again with the stupid mohawk and blue hair stereotyping. I'll have you know, I prefer it to be more natural. Not because there are school regulations against dying your hair weird colours, though."
A tiny smile tugged at her lips, which boosted Jason's confidence to keep talking. "Next you'll be telling me you want a martini with exactly four olives. Oh wait, it's too strong for girls. You want some pink punch?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Make it five olives."
Jason's eyebrows skyrocketed, but she'd already turned back to examining a pamphlet of some band. He quickly waved at the bartender again.
She only looked up when the drink was placed in front of her. "It's on me," Jason said, hoping for a good reaction.
She barely glanced at him before sitting up and looking into the glass, picking up the little stick of olives and turning it over with her fingers. Jason tried not to smile too wide—she was counting them and it was freaking adorable. Not that he'd ever say that to her face. He'd probably be dead if he did.
She looked over at him this time once she was satisfied that there were, in fact, exactly five olives on the stick. "You don't like martinis?" Jason asked quizzically. She hadn't even touched the drink at all.
"Even if there are five olives in it, there's still a chance that you poisoned it or added a sleeping pill to it to get in my pants."
Jason legitimately laughed out loud at that, stopping as he saw her totally serious face. "What, you're serious?" he spluttered, holding back his laughter. "I don't do that, okay? I'm not a douche and I like to think that I attractive enough for most girls to want me without being either drunk or passed out."
This coaxed a little huff from the girl, but she placated him by taking a sip and licking her lips. Jason tried not to stare at her lips. That would be creepy. Jason did not do creepy. And now he was being creepy by talking to himself in his mind.
The girl placed her pamphlet on the bar table. Jason took it, and laughed as he saw his band's picture on it.
"That's me," he pointed. The girl seemed a little surprised at this. "Are you into punk rock?"
"Not really," she said, snatching the pamphlet back. Jason felt a little disappointed that he couldn't use his "I'm in a band" thing on her now. "I came here because my friend Annabeth loves it. I don't really get it, though. What's with the screaming and noise? Like, how do people even call that music?"
Her tone was more questioning than offending, so Jason brushed it off. "It's different for people," he began. "For me, it's a way of expressing yourself. Like sometimes, you're so pissed off about something that you want to scream. But you can't because that would be weird. So instead, I take all my frustration and anger out in songs. Usually we don't have that much random screaming, but when the song really hits home, we put it in to get into the, you know, emotion or whatever. And the noise is just the style, I guess. I mean sure, there's country and sweet lovey songs, but we just prefer the stuff that gets in your head and grabs for your heart and really makes you think and feel the music. That's what I think, at least." Jason shrugged and grabbed for his beer, waiting for her to say something.
"Well, I've never thought about it that way," she said, biting her lip. "You're right, though. Different people express themselves in different ways."
Jason smiled at her. "I never caught your name," he stated casually.
"I'm not exactly good at throwing, so it's understandable," the girl (oh how Jason hated calling her that) deadpanned.
Jason tilted his head at her and stared until she tore her eyes from his gaze. "Fine. I'm Reyna."
A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Jason mentally hit himself again. Way to be cool. But seriously, she was gorgeous. Tall, lean, striking dark eyes and long, tan legs, god he wished he'd known—or seen—her sooner.
"Jason."
Reyna smiled at him for the first time during their conversation. Jason felt warm and wished that he wasn't blushing.
Suddenly, a tall, well-muscled guy approached them. Jason watched as he sat right next to Reyna. He leaned close to her and said something in her ear. Reyna shook her head. He hooked a hand around her hip. Reyna shook her head again and said something, trying to lean away from the clearly drunk guy. Jason could tell from her expression that she was irritated.
The stranger's hands travelled from her hips up her back as he leaned closer to her face. Jason's heartbeat quickened and his blood boiled. No way was this guy getting his dirty hands on Reyna. She was squirming in his hold, but he was stronger.
Wrapping his arms around her stomach, Jason easily plucked Reyna out of the guy's grasp and set her on his lap. He narrowed his eyes dangerously at the guy. "Don't. Touch. My. Girlfriend." Jason warned him, punching him in the eye as hard as he could. The guy cried out and slunk away, clutching his eye. Jason grinned in victory.
Reyna stayed quiet for a while. Jason bounced her a little up and down on his lap, trying to get her attention, but she stayed silent, eyes fixed on the table. She looked a little shaken from that encounter. Jason turned from teasing to serious.
"Rey, you okay?" he asked, genuinely concerned. After a moment, she nodded hesitantly, daring to let her eyes travel to his face. Jason smiled, lifting a hand to brush a stray strand of black hair behind her ear. Tentatively, Reyna smiled back weakly, the sparkle slowly returning to her eyes.
"I can protect myself, you know," she told him. Jason chuckled fondly.
"I don't doubt that," he answered. "It just makes me feel tough when I get to punch douchebags. Especially if it ends with a girl is sitting on my lap," he added, winking to lighten the mood.
Reyna smiled a little wider, but it was still hesitant. "Thanks," she said, her voice small. Jason stared at the girl. It seemed like something had shifted. Something really serious had happened with her, but he wouldn't ask if she wasn't ready to talk. He gently squeezed her arm.
"No problem. Didn't want another guy to get his hands on you." Reyna arched an eyebrow at this, and Jason grinned back cheekily. Resting his hands on her waist, he felt her stiffen. Jason didn't like seeing her unwound and scared like this, so, he did the natural thing to bring that beautiful smile back to her face.
He tickled her.
Reyna let loose an uncharacteristic squeal as his fingers tickled her sides. "Agh! Stop it, Jason! Stop it stop it stop it!" she yelled between fits of laughter and gasping.
"Nope. Can't make me!" Jason chuckled, beaming at her. The red tint on her face from laughing so hard looked good on her. Not that Jason was paying extra attention to her face or anything.
A while later, Reyna was squirming in his lap and trying but failing to swat his hands away. "Truce!" Reyna pleaded, still trying to escape from his grip, laughing. Jason smiled down at the girl from where his head was nestled in the crook of her neck.
"Okay," he said slowly, keeping his hands on her waist. "But you owe me something. Two somethings, in fact." An idea formulated in his mind.
"And why would I owe a stranger anything?" Reyna quipped back, playing along (much to Jason's surprise).
"Well, I did save your butt from certain rape," Jason pointed out, squeezing her sides lightly.
Reyna bit her lip. Jason internally flinched and hoped that his comment wouldn't drive her away. The girl looked visibly less shaken, though.
"Fine. What is it that you want?"
Jason felt his heart soar with hope. "First, your number. Second, a date. That's all I'm asking for." Jason spread his palms on the table, arms encircling her, hoping that he came off more confident than he felt. His heart sped up with every second she paused.
Reyna finally turned in his lap and looked him in the eyes. Obsidian met brilliant blue as they stared at each other for a few tense moments. "Well aren't you smooth."
Jason felt like it was more of a deadpan statement than a compliment, but shrugged it off. "It's your fault, actually. If you weren't so damn gorgeous, then that guy would've left you alone and I wouldn't have needed to save you and ask you out as payment for my heroic acts for humanity."
Reyna smirked. "You were going to ask me out anyway," she guessed. Jason stuck his tongue out at her playfully, even if she was right.
"So is that a yes?" he asked, forcing down a nervous yet giddy blush.
Reyna rolled her eyes at him. "It better be good, since you're so heroic."
"I see that I have garnered yet another fan who's head over heels for me."
"Don't push it," she warned, shoving him lightly in the chest. "This is only because I'm fair and I pay for stuff people do for me."
Jason hummed and smirked. "Sure."
Reyna rolled her eyes again, but Jason detected a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. He would've been content with staying in that same position for the rest of the night (or forever, who was looking at the time anyway?), but Reyna's phone beeped. She checked it and smiled apologetically at him.
"Sorry, that was my mom. She wants me to get home so I can help her with something." Reyna stood up and was about to leave when Jason caught her wrist and tugged her back onto his lap.
"I believe you owe me a phone number," he reminded, tugging out a pen he kept with him for autographs and the pamphlet for his band.
Reyna rolled her eyes for the millionth time, but snatched the pen out of his grasp and scrawled a series of numbers on the paper right underneath his picture and signed her name before shoving it in Jason's chest.
"An autograph for an obsessed fan," she said, turning on her heels and leaving Jason there speechless.