01:14
Summary: "I'm Jason Grace. Thanks for not letting me get trampled on by stripper heels and flailing limbs."
Reyna doesn't think twice when she clasps hands with Jason Grace, pulling him up off the floor of the nightclub Gwen dragged her to with a jerk of her arm; she expects him to act like any other guy that graces (no, that is not a pun) the dirty floors of run-down, slightly shady Californian nightclubs; experience tells her he'll either let her be on her way, offering no more than a nod of thanks, or he'll try his luck with an entirely unappreciated, not-so-subtle comment on seeing her figure sparse of any clothing.
She's met instead with blue eyes clear of any drunken glaze, an appreciative, if slightly sheepish grin and an expression far too open. However, in true Ramirez-Arellano fashion, she refuses to be perturbed, instead mentally labelling him a designated driver and offering a curt nod as she tries to pull her clammy hand away from his. She finds, though, that he doesn't really give her the chance to leave before he can kindly shake her hand and introduce himself.
"Jason Grace. Thanks for not letting me get trampled on by stripper heels and flailing limbs."
"No problem," she mutters, glancing away from his face to a certain red-head behind him, whom she whole-heartedly blames for this encounter.
Her eyes flicker back towards him, watching shadows dance across his face as the flickering strobe lights illuminate sharp lines and a strong jaw. Provoked by eyes searching her face curiously, she acknowledges that she hasn't provided her name yet.
Reyna pointedly looks at her hands, and then stares at him expectantly. Jason releases his hold, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, and she brushes past him.
Or she would have done, had he not gently grabbed her upper arm. What was with him and the touching?! She glares at him, brushing his hold off, and he looks at her like he's trying to tame a wolf. "Sorry to pull you back here again, but I never caught your name."
"I never offered it."
The corners of his lips pull upward slightly. "I'm implying that you should."
"And I'm bluntly stating that I won't."
She expects him to look lost for words, to finally leave her alone, yet for the second time that night he exceeds her expectations. "I can't offer a lady a ride home without first knowing her name."
Her eyes narrow into slits.
She should walk away. God dammit she should pull her hand back, turn the hell around and go and sit on a stool at the bar. It's what she'd usually do; she isn't used to surprises, like unexpected conversations with blond boys in plaid shirts.
Yet...
"My name's Reyna," she finally offers.
Clearly she's just not thinking straight. It must be those shots.
The conclusion that she's tipsy is unrealistic though, because she counts her glasses like a chemist counts the number of drops of reactant, so Reyna entertains the idea that maybe it's because he didn't say 'lady' like he was mocking or degrading her, he stated it like a fact. Maybe it's because he hasn't stared once at her like she's a piece of meat, or maybe it's because he hasn't even offered her a drink as if he's trying to get with her.
In all honesty, she's somewhat sick of always knowing what will happen next. After over twenty years of schedules and military-like structure, she craves a bit more spontaneity, and perhaps this is her chance. She knows that if she walks away now, she'll just go sit at the bar, idly tapping her fingers on the counter and fighting off any flirting attempts cocky jack-asses with sleazy grins fling her way. She knows that Gwen's going to spend the night with Dakota and then come back home the following afternoon with a hazy memory of the club, pretending that she didn't wake up next to a guy she's supposedly just friends with. She knows she's going to stay up all night finishing an assignment due in tomorrow (or today - what is the time anyway?) and nurse a mug of coffee and a pounding headache in the morning.
Reyna focuses back on Jason's face, and allows her lips to lift in the ghost of a smile for the first time that night as she finalises her decision. "And if the offer still stands, I'd like that ride home."
Okay, so she did just meet him. But with fifteen years of hardcore combat training tucked snugly under her belt, and the fact that she's pretty certain she can read him like an open book, she allows herself this risk. And yeah, it is kind of cocky, but she might as well "live a little", as Gwen is oh so fond of reminding her.
Nonetheless Reyna offers him the address to a non-student designated block of apartments a fifteen minute walk away from her university-assigned accommodation.
She appreciates the fact that he seems to understand that she isn't the type to offer information first, and opens the conversation by telling her irrelevant details about himself, like his favourite colour (purple) and Avenger (Captain America - despite trying not to, she openly laughs, and slots in her own two cents about the Winter Soldier; his beaming grin is admittedly not one she'll forget quickly).
Too soon however he changes topics, "Are you at the university, Rey?" and she frowns, both at the nickname and at what she thinks could be an intrusion of privacy, because he suddenly wants to know about her. To be fair though, the question itself really isn't that personal, considering the amount of students who move across the country to attend the institution of higher education (like herself, she thinks somewhat bitterly).
"Yeah," she says shortly, and it's like all of their previous amiability has just disappeared. She doesn't intent to be rude (and gods, Jason is just throwing her this worried look as if he's stressing he's done something wrong, and it's hard to not let herself be bothered by it because he's actually been decent to her in the past half an hour, and really the question itself wasn't that awful) but she'd rather know him better before she starts offering specifics, like her course.
Reyna just, she knows how easily handing over facts and letting someone else actually know her can lead to vulnerability. But he's so open that she finds herself kind of wanting them to be friends, and previous experience tells her that the path to friendship is a journey that takes both participants' efforts, even if it means stepping out of her comfort zone.
It's just that she doesn't trust him enough yet.
"You?" she finally asks.
"Yeah, Classical major," he replies, without skipping a beat, and Reyna mentally snorts at how easily he answered, like it doesn't matter that half an hour ago they didn't know each other. The knowledge that they attend the same university somewhat soothes her though, and so she relaxes into the leather seat just a little bit more.
The engine hums beneath them in the temporary quiet, until Jason slices through it, and also Reyna's sense of calm, by asking, "You aren't by any chance the president, are you?" Her eyes widen and she snaps her head from the window on her left to him. He glances at her momentarily, so that she doesn't miss the knowing twinkle in his eyes.
Shit.
She really should have told spontaneity to screw itself and she should have lied about her name. Or her goddamn student occupation.
Reyna reluctantly admits, "Co-president," because her face has been plastered across too many bulletins for her to even hope of convincing him otherwise. She straightens her back slightly, determined to pull their conversation back to a professional level.
In the following moment, however, in which Jason smiles awkwardly and stutters midway through inviting her for late night hot chocolate, it becomes blatantly obvious that it's too late for professionalism. Because honestly?
Yes, she really would like a chocolate boost and some friendly company before she tackles that stupid, incomplete essay.
"You know a café open at," she pauses to look at the time, "01:14 in the morning?"
His unsure expression eases into something soft. "I do when I'm in possession of the keys." Reyna can clearly hear the grin and intonation of betcha-didn't-see-that-coming, and she can't help but smile at how he manages that without a hint of arrogance.
"Do you bring every girl you pick up to this café in the middle of the night?"
He turns to her, smiling cheekily. "So I picked you up in that nightclub then?"
She scoffs at him, an open sound that makes Jason chuckle. "More like I picked - no, in fact I hauled - your ass off the floor."
The engine stops rumbling beneath them, and Reyna looks up to see a café well-known around the campus (and even more so around the university council, 90% of whom often look like they need the extra caffeine) for having good coffee and small alcoves perfect for quiet studying.
"The Classics major who works at Café Laurus - I'm genuinely going to be disappointed if you tell me they don't give you a laurel to wear during shifts."
"Would you look at that, the rumours are false; you aren't an ice queen, but a Latin speaking, somewhat nocturnal, sarcastic ray of sunshine, with a tag along job as the university's co-president."
She shoves him lightly whilst rolling her eyes. "I prefer Ice Queen to being compared to a hot ball of gas."
Before she can open the car door, he catches both her arm and her glance, and Reyna's breath definitely doesn't catch slightly at the open honesty in his eyes. In the beam of streetlight she can't quite catch their colour, but she can tell that they're light.
"I suppose you do lack the happy-go-lucky connotations linked to the sun," he tells her, "but I've heard of what you do, and I've seen you fleetingly in so many different places on campus. You do provide for the university, just like the sun provides for the Earth."
Reyna swallows dryly.
She's speechless and struggling to snark a witty reply; after definitely pulling up blank, she simply murmurs a quiet thank you (though she isn't sure if it's for the ride, the easy going conversation, or his comment), and let's herself out of the car.
The keys jingle in the lock as Jason fumbles to open the door, and soon enough they're bustling through the doorway and into the warm room. The lingering smell of coffee invades Reyna's senses, a very pleasant change from the scent of stale tobacco and spilt booze lurking on many street corners outside.
"Hey, Reyna?" His voice sings a melody of uncertainty. "Why did you accept my offer in the first place? The drive home, I mean."
Her onyx eyes soften as they meet with a pair of eyes now clearly bluer than the Augustan Californian sky, and she momentarily busies herself with the (not so) scientific task of dragging a chair across the tiled floor as she carefully thinks through her response. She stops before the counter Jason's standing behind and opens her mouth to speak, plopping herself down tiredly. "I guess I wanted my night to be a little more special than the same old visiting a club I have no interest in, and then spending the remainder of the early hours of the morning finishing an assignment I didn't have time for earlier on in the week." Her answer's scarily honest, she muses, but figures that Jason deserves as much. Figures that she can trust him with that much.
He smiles at her softly in lieu of answering, and turns on a machine before gesturing to the menu behind him. "What would you like?"
A few minutes later the scent of hot chocolate envelopes her like a hug as she lifts the mug Jason set before her to her lips. Below she notices a scrawl dotting the napkin on the plate.
'You're making my night pretty special too.'
Although she's never really understood 'mementos', she tucks it in her bag when he isn't looking.
On their way out, a bell above the door softly jingles in the quiet.
Conversation on the way home flows smoothly between them, and Reyna realises a moment too late that the blond is pulling into the university parking lot. She whirls around to face him, eyeing him somewhat irritably. "This isn't where I asked you to drop me off."
"Well observed," he says dryly, and a pair of onyx eyes narrow in response. "I assumed you're needed on call as co-president of the council, and figured you either live here or a short distance away. You didn't seriously think I was gonna let you walk fifteen minutes on your own?"
Yeah, she finalises. She would kind of like him and all of his thoughtfulness in her life.
"I can handle myself."
"Noted," he sounds like he genuinely believes her, "but beside the point."
He's thankfully offered her no knowledge of anything remotely personal, but he's thrown her way so many of his personality traits in the short time span of a few hours.
So she thinks she understands what he means.
After he pulls the key out of ignition, Reyna lets herself of out of the car and quickly directs herself to the dormitory, trying to fight the heartfelt curve of her lips. Behind her, she can hear the beeping of his car and his increased breathing as he jogs slightly to catch up with her.
She sighs almost sadly as the individual bumps of the wall plaster of her dorm building become visible, realising she really has got to tackle that assignment. As she reaches the door, she turns around and diplomatically offers her hand to the befuddled boy behind her, thankful for his presence in the past couple of hours. "It was nice meeting you, Grace."
He finally realises what she's trying to do and rolls his eyes, wrapping her in a loose hug, and his quiet laughter is suddenly very close to her ear. "Nice meeting you too, Reyna, but I promised at the café that I'd help you with that assignment, so you're stuck with me for a couple more hours."
She should have known he was being serious.
Jason's expression tells her that he already knows what her decision will be, and soon enough they're walking up the stairs shoulder to shoulder, the backs of their hands brushing against one another just enough to make a difference.
It hasn't been long since they've walked through the doorway of her shared dorm room, ("Wait a second; you're Gwen's never-there-when-I-visit-roommate?"), and despite this he's already happily making himself at home, searching the cupboards for a couple of mugs and a bag of microwave popcorn. He's already comfortable, and for that Reyna's grateful; it saves them awkward conversations of, "May I please," or, "Can I just," (and it also shows that he may just find her companionable enough to see her again, and she isn't in the business of kidding herself by saying that she wouldn't like that).
She makes her way to her laptop, finding that she isn't as reluctant to start as before, and knows that it probably has something to do with the blond in the kitchenette still quietly opening and closing cabinets.
...
An alarm rings somewhere to her left, and Reyna blearily lifts her head off of the uncomfortably hard surface she fell asleep on, squinting at the harsh morning light that invades the room. She pushes herself off of the kitchenette counter and makes her way to her bedside table, stretching out the kinks in her back.
Turning around, she notices multiple things at once: her essay sits complete on the printer, her sink is littered with multiple spoons and dirty mugs, and Jason is still here.
She doesn't bother to stop the warm smile spreading on her lips.
Recalling him mention sometime last night that his first class of the day is in the afternoon, Reyna resets her alarm and places it next to his head. She then unpeels a sticky note from a pile on the counter and scrawls on top of the scratchy surface, before gently placing it on his forehead, careful not to disturb him.
'Thanks for the hot chocolate and your opinions on world politics.'
a/n; If you have any feedback, criticism or things you need cleared up, please drop off a review c: