A/N: I probably won't be writing anything for the next couple of weeks or so because of exams. Just thought I'd let you guys know in advance. Anyway, keep those reviews coming! They make my day! :D
Two slow, agonizing weeks passed after Jason's fight with Riley. He heard nothing from her, didn't see her. Granted, he was stuck at home most of the time because of his ankle and the fact that he had to catch up on all the lessons he had missed because of work. The fact that she didn't even bother to visit meant she wanted nothing to do with him. He expected as much.
Jason sighed heavily and dropped his head into his hands, curling his cramped fingers into his scalp. Women… He thought in frustration, rubbing his tired eyes. According to the oven clock, he had spent the last couple of hours taking notes from his American History: From Colonies to Country textbook. All he could think about was Riley. Her in his mother's ravishing emerald dress, looking happier than he had ever seen her. Her abhorred expression as she caught him kissing Christine, and her plaintive one afterward. He wondered if she would ever speak to him again. If all you seem to do is put her in danger and make her cry, why would she? A voice in his head chimed. He pushed it out of his head.
Giving up on getting anymore notes down, Jason slammed the cover of From Colonies to Country closed and leaned back in his chair. The silence of the apartment washed over him, loud in his ears but peaceful at the same time. The refrigerator hummed in the kitchen and the windowpane creaked as the snow battered the glass. His mother had gone to get fresh fruits and vegetables, and wouldn't be back for at least another hour, he assumed. She had a habit of chatting up neighbours down the street and usually got sidetracked. Not that he minded.
Jason leaned back far enough to see that the door to his parents' bedroom had been left ajar. He normally didn't have any particular need or urge to go in there, but today he felt like that gap in the doorframe was beckoning him. He felt a strange pull towards the room, so having nothing else to do he limped over to the open door and gently pushed on the white-washed wood.
The room was painted a warm beige, bordering on light tangerine. His mother hadn't liked the colour at first, but she had warmed up to it since they had no money to buy paint and change it. A queen-size bed stood in the middle of the room, headboard against the wall. The sunlight filtered through from a window above the mahogany headboard, illuminating the room with a soft gray light. It was flanked by two nightstands of the same type of wood, each standing on four curved legs that each resembled half of a heart. The rumpled gold comforter looked more like a dull silver in the dim afternoon light. A closet in the wall stood beside the bed on Jason's right, while a large mahogany dresser occupied the opposite wall, the one closest to the door. A few of his parents' things were lined up on the dresser, underneath the mirror that rested against the wall on top of it. It was bordered by delicately carved flowers and leaves. It spanned almost the whole length of the piece of furniture, with a few cracks in the corners.
His mother's perfume lingered in the air, which rested on the dresser in a rose-shaped bottle. His father's cologne stood next to it, an ebony-coloured rectangle with silver writing that claimed it to be Armani. Jason had no idea who, or what, Armani was but he remembered Riley's nose brushing against his neck as she gently inhaled the cologne. His body subtly shivered at the memory of it.
Jason wandered over to the closet, his fingers skimming the fabrics of his parents' shirts that hung on hangers inside. They searched almost of their own accord, stopping as they rested on the familiar green dress. The tiny rhinestones glittered somberly as his fingertips disturbed the fabric. Riley had given it back the day after the Christmas party, while he had been sleeping in. Jason sighed again, and turned away from the sharp, painful memories that dress dredged up from his reluctant unconscious. His hip accidentally bumped the nightstand as he made to exit, and Jason rubbed the aching spot where the corner had jabbed his pelvic bone.
Something fluttered to his feet as he cursed his own clumsiness. Jason bent to pick it up, plopping himself down on the edge of the bed as he did so. It was a photo, faded and worn at the edges as if someone held it too often. The photo depicted a family of four, smiling in front of what he recognized as the apartment building he now lived in. It was taken the day they moved in, sometime in the summer, having finally scrounged up enough money to move from…He couldn't remember where he had lived before he moved here. Jason could pick out himself -probably about six or seven at the time-standing on the first step with his father's hands on his shoulders. He counted about three teeth missing from the goofy grin on his face, and his fringe was no different than it was today, always falling into his eyes when it got too long. His father was standing behind him, his mother to his left and a blonde woman to his right. She looked like an adult version of Riley.
Jason's brow furrowed as he studied the unfamiliar woman. A memory surfaced from the deep depths of his mind, one that was as faded as the photograph in his hand. He tried to grasp at it, but it kept slipping away, back into the long-buried places his mind used to lock up unwanted memories. Painful memories. That woman…he knew her, but at the same time he couldn't recall who she was. All he got was a feeling of dread as he looked into her beaming face, her gray-blue eyes shining with joy and life.
A shadow caught his attention, coming into his peripheral field of view. Jason felt a sudden sense of panic, like he was doing something forbidden by being in his parents' bedroom without permission. It wasn't like he wasn't allowed in here, but he doubted his mother would be very happy if she caught him snooping. The shadow did turn out to be his mother-he heard a heavy thump that was probably the paper bags of vegetables she had brought home. She came into the room not a few seconds later to deposit her purse on the dresser.
Julia raised a questioning eyebrow at her son as she set her simple faux crocodile skin purse on the piece of furniture. She couldn't bear to buy the real thing, not that it was around anymore or that they could afford it. Her chocolate eyes flickered from the picture in Jason's hand to his spooked face.
"Mom, who was this?" Jason queried, tapping the blonde woman in the photograph with his forefinger. Julia's curious expression clouded over as she sat beside her son, gently plucking the picture from his hands. It was unfamiliar to Jason, a mixture of regret, sadness, and loss.
"Maria, your aunt." Julia signed, a frown tugging at the corners of her lips. She smelled fresh, having just stepped in from the outside. He also caught the scent of lavender from her hair, mixed with the oranges and parsley she had bought.
"My…aunt? I don't remember her." The memories danced at the edge of Jason's mind, just out of his reach.
Julia shook her head. "You were young when she left…I'm not surprised you don't remember her, we weren't very close. You've probably only seen her only two or three times." She replied with her hands, letting out a long sigh. The topic seemed to burden her, deepening the lines on her forehead and around her mouth.
"Why did she leave?" Jason cocked his head.
His mother paused, hesitating. Then, "She left with your grandfather, up north somewhere. She couldn't stand living in the QZ anymore. Maria was always impossible to tie down, she always needed to do things her way. To be free. So, after long arguments between your father, your grandfather, her, and me, they decided to leave. That was the last time we ever saw them." Her eyes were distant, gazing back into the past. They shone in the weak light. "I miss them. Every day I pray that they made it somehow, somewhere out there." She glanced out the window and tucked the photo back into the drawer of the nightstand.
Jason didn't move from his place on the bed, watching his mother shuffle gloomily back to the kitchen to unpack the groceries. He had seen bits and pieces of the world outside the QZ, and none of it looked inviting or even particularly friendly. You didn't get kidnapped and killed by Hunters in here, although the Cobras weren't too different on that front. Infected didn't rush and maul you from behind every corner, at least.
Infected…The word echoed in Jason's mind, and a memory of angry red paint and dark corridors flickered to life behind his eyes. The Infected in the prison…he hadn't had a chance to tell Riley about them. He got up automatically and headed for the entrance hall to put his coat and boots on, only to realize with a bitter jolt halfway there that she wasn't talking to him. He caught his mother's questioning look as he halted, as if he had lost his train of thought. In reality he was deciding whether or not to speak to Riley himself.
"I'm going out, Mom." Jason signed, continuing his journey to the hall closet. She crossed her arms, narrowing his eyes at him suspiciously. They flitted between his bandaged ankle and exasperated expression. "To Riley's, Mom." Jason specified and his mother waved him off, placing the oranges in the fruit basket on the table.
In truth, Jason wanted badly to make up with his best friend, but he figured he would just get another slap in the face if he showed up at her dorm room asking her to come with him on another hare-brained "adventure" of his. No, he would have to investigate this on his own. It wasn't far to the military compound, but with his healing ankle it felt like forever until he spotted the sentries guarding the gate to the area. His ankle hurt less when he walked, but he still had a pretty bad limp. Now he just had to figure out how to get into the prison.
Damn it, Riley's usually the one who plans stuff…Jason sighed through his nose. The snow whipped and stung his exposed cheeks, numbing the skin. At least he could sort of use the snow to his advantage…but it wasn't enough. Could he kill them? He couldn't tell if the four guards-two on the roofs overlooking the alley and two on the ground-were real Cobras or just Fireflies. Both were dangerous when provoked, and all cradled guns in their black-sleeved arms. Of the four, the two on the ground made an interesting pair. One was obviously female, judging by her body shape and short stature. The other was male, probably around Ian's height. He couldn't see either of their faces.
The image of the young Firefly flashed across his mind's eye. He got a sick feeling every time he thought about it, like he wanted to vomit but couldn't. No, killing them wasn't an option. He couldn't handle it. He didn't have a problem with knocking them unconscious, though. That didn't solve the problem of actually getting in the prison, and also getting out unscathed what with all the real Cobras down there.
Ian's words suddenly echoed through his mind. You can't go in there looking like that. They'll shoot you on sight, and you obviously don't have the skill to sneak by anyone.
Ian was also a problem. Last time Jason had seen him, he promised to kill him on sight. Ian seemed like the type of guy who kept his promises. Jason shook his head vigorously. He couldn't let that boy recognize him. Think, Jay, think!
He let out a low moan, the pain in his leg growing worse by the minute. He heard one of the guards speak up, alarmed. It was the male by the gate. They were less than ten metres away from him. "Did you hear that?" He sounded young, but it wasn't Ian.
"Hear what?" The second guard queried gruffly, shifting the shotgun in her arms. Their voices sounded familiar. They fell silent, both listening. Encouraged, Jason made the same noise, his heartbeat quickening. Footsteps crunched on the snow, growing louder. They were coming.
He spotted the tip of a shotgun poke out from around the corner and yanked it out of the surprised guard's hands, bringing it down on her head. She crumpled to the ground unconscious. The second one quickly recovered from his surprise, pointing the gun at Jason.
"One wrong move and I shoot, Jason. Gimme the gun." Jason recognized that drawl, that voice. It was Jerry.
It was Jason's turn to be surprised. "You're a Firefly? Since when?" He asked incredulously.
Jerry smirked, cocking his rifle threateningly. "You've been gone a while, haven't you? I decided to switch to the other side. They give us better weapons, more respect." He licked his lips maliciously, as if Jason were a tasty treat. Who knew, maybe Jerry was a cannibal as well as dim-witted.
Jason scoffed, but it just sounded like a nervous cough. "What did Brookes say about it?"
Jerry laughed, a wheezing hack of a noise. "They don't give a shit. If you disappear, they don't go looking for you. The whole squad knows what happened to me, and a few others. Like poor Christine at your feet, there." He pointed the barrel of his gun down at the unconscious girl. Jason took that moment of distraction to whip the butt of Christine's shotgun across Jerry's face. The horse-faced boy yelped, dropping his gun in the process as he cradled his broken, bleeding nose. The blood dribbled down his lips, staining them and the skin around them red. Jason knocked him out the same way he did Christine before he could recover.
"I'll borrow these if you don't mind, Jer." Jason none-too-gently removed the black coat from his former squad member's limp body, wiping the blood off the leather. It didn't feel heavy like Ian's did. Maybe the Kevlar lining was only for the true Cobras? He was lucky he decided to wear his camouflage pants today. Jason also took off Christine's coat, and shouldered both their shotguns. He didn't feel particularly bad about doing this to either of them, it was like he turned off his emotions when fighting. It left him with a numb feeling inside his mind, mixed with adrenaline.
Jason had no time to dwell on his former comrades as the other two sentries spotted him and fired warning shots. He slipped away from the unconscious bodies, shrugging on Jerry's coat. It fit him better than Ian's did, and he flipped up the hood. He turned the corner and loped off just as the other sentries entered the mouth of the alley. He didn't notice one of them dart off in the direction of the compound.
When Jason got tired of loping through the snow-it was the only way he could run without irritating his bad ankle too much-he slowed to a walk. I hope Riley doesn't hate me enough to refuse this…He glanced down at the other black coat in his arms. It had some subtle differences compared to the real Cobras' jackets. It lacked the embroidered emblem on the beak of the hood, along with the Kevlar lining. The sleeves weren't as tight around his forearms. It would be impossible to tell from a distance which one was real, though.
He walked along, lost in his thoughts. The school was in sight, its tall birch standing in a square of soil in front of the doors. The wind blew at his face, making him squint against the snow. Jason heard the distant three-beat pattern of hoofbeats from somewhere down the street, and assumed one of the Cobra messengers had returned. He had been seeing them more often lately, most of them alive. It wasn't uncommon to see a horse and rider trotting or cantering down the street in front of his apartment building anymore.
The hoofbeats began to grow louder, though they were slightly muffled by the wind and snow on the ground. Jason turned too late as a flash of brown and black cantered past him, and a sharp pain exploded from his shoulder. The bay halted, its head pulled back brutally as the rider yanked on the reins. "I told you I'd kill you next time I saw you, Ponyboy." Ian jeered, holding his shotgun like a baseball bat in one hand while steering his horse with the other. It was a strong, solid animal with a thick neck. Morgan, Jason guessed.
"Why didn't you do it already, Cobra? Do you like to see the faces of people before you kill them, you sick fuck?" Jason called back, holding his shoulder. It throbbed something awful, and he didn't dare lift his arm.
Ian smiled a predatory smile, his blue eyes sparkling with malice. "You know me too well!" He laughed as if Jason were an old friend he hadn't seen in a long time. He turned his horse, gearing up for another charge. "I like to have a little fun first, though." Ian spurred his steed into a canter again, and Jason knew he wasn't a match for a mounted Cobra. He jumped out of the way, albeit with difficulty. There had to be a way to get Ian off that horse, not that he was any better off with him dismounted.
"Why do you want me dead, huh?" Jason had to keep him talking, keep him distracted. He searched the pockets of his new coat, hoping to find something, anything he could use as a weapon. His fingers curled around a folded switchblade in his front pocket. Am I some sort of threat to him? Jason didn't think himself threatening.
Ian shrugged. "Sport, I guess."
Jason would have rolled his eyes had it not been for the adrenaline singing through his veins and the fact that a horse was cantering straight at him. He had to time it just right. As the butt of Ian's shotgun connected with his already battered arm, Jason sunk the switchblade into the blond boy's calf. They both cried out in pain, doubling over.
Jason saw stars as he stumbled, using the trunk of the birch to keep himself from falling. He heard the hoofbeats again, matching the pounding of blood in his ears. His hands were torn from the trunk as something heavy landed on his back. Jason's head slammed into the cold ground, and his vision faded to dark for a few seconds. When it came back, he felt the same weight on his front, crushing his lungs. He couldn't breathe.
"Smart move. Shouldda known Jerry carried a knife in his pocket…No matter. You're mine now, Ponyboy." Ian chuckled viciously, holding Jerry's switchblade against Jason's throat. It was stained with blood to the hilt, and Ian's leg was bleeding profusely in Jason's peripheral vision. His grip was beginning to weaken on his collar, and he was shaking. From pain or anger, it was difficult to tell.
Ian's blood felt hot against Jason's cold skin. His knee bore down on his chest, making his breath come in short gasps. The blade pressed harder against his throat. "Go ahead. I dare you." Jason spat, looking up at Ian through snow-dappled lashes. It was hard to stay awake. His head spun.
"If you insist. It was fun, Ponyboy. I like a good fight." Ian removed the blade from his victim's throat, bringing it down towards his heart.
All was silent. Everything was dark. Jason had thought heaven was white and pure, full of light and angels. This didn't seem like heaven. It was too dark, too quiet. Did that mean he was in some in-between stage, between heaven and hell? Jason could hear voices, one he recognized, others he didn't. They sounded far off and incoherent, as if he were underwater.
People were shouting. He still didn't know what they were saying. It was as if he were looking from the outside in, there but not. He looked up at a women with blonde hair and stormy gray eyes. She was the one shouting, tears streaming down her face. A door banged, or maybe someone threw something to the ground, he couldn't tell. All he knew was fear. Someone picked him up, and he recognized his mother. She was crying, too.
He had felt the knife sinking through his skin, leaving a trail of blood and white-hot pain in its wake. Jason had heard a scream, but it had not been his own. The weight had inexplicably been lifted off of him, and he had been free. Free from pain, from his own exhaustion, from light.
The scent of hay wafted into his nose, mixed with horse and leather. "If he doesn't go when you kick, cluck your tongue!" His father was instructing him. "Good job! Now say 'Whoa, there boy'!" Jason felt himself moving his lips, but no sound came out. Was this real? Jason thought to himself, as if from far away. No, he decided. It's just a memory. He felt himself falling into darkness again.
This time he was convinced he had come back to reality. Dark walls rose up around him, warmth enveloped his body. Moonlight filtered through the window on the wall opposite him, bathing a square on the floor in an ethereal, blue glow. Something shifted against him, and he smelled lavender.
Jason blinked a few times to focus his bleary vision, still half-asleep. He had no idea where he was, it was too dark to tell. All he knew was that he wasn't alone. He heard breathing next to him that wasn't his. A warmth he recognized only came from another human body penetrated his skin, although it was cooler than what he was used to. Glancing down, his chin brushed against what he determined to be soft, blonde hair.
Now I'm definitely dreaming…He studied the girl sleeping next to him in the cramped single bed only meant for…well, one person. Riley's head was nestled in his favourite spot, between his neck and collarbone. Her breath alternated between warm and cold as she inhaled and exhaled, her chest rising and falling against his own. One arm was draped loosely across what he belatedly realized was his bare chest, right next to a recently stitched gash across his collarbone. The other was tucked against his torso. Were her fingers always this cold? Maybe it was just him. At least she was wearing a shirt, he thought with slight disappointment.
As Jason's eyes wandered up to her face, taking in every detail, every place where their bodies touched, he couldn't help but notice how peaceful Riley looked. There was no worried furrow to her brow or tears in her eyes. He realized now, after just a mere week apart, how much he missed her. His body remembered her, how she fit against him when they huddled together for sentry shifts, how her head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck and his arm around her shoulders. In fact they lay like that now, her curled up against him, using his shoulder as a pillow. Jason pressed his lips to her forehead, wrapping an arm around her thin frame. He stroked her hair, as silky as the dress he loved seeing her in. Riley stirred, not waking, letting out a content murmur as a small smile played on her lips.
There was something more intimate about the way he held her now; it was no longer the same innocent touch that was born out the necessity to be warm. It was the same thing he had felt when he was kissing Riley in the train car, a deep stirring in his chest that radiated fire through his veins, but this time the fire was a gentle glow. He wished she would lie against him like this every night, but he was too selfish and she was too angry at him. A cloud passed across the moon, dampening its glow. Jason fell back into the realm of unconsciousness.
When he awoke again, sunlight streamed through the window instead of moonlight. The harsh light made Jason groan and squeeze his eyes shut against it. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes, noticing Riley was gone. The empty space beside him was still warm, confirming that he hadn't been dreaming last night, or however many nights ago that was. He completely lost track of time after Ian had stabbed him.
"Hey, Blue Jay." Riley called from somewhere he couldn't see, probably behind him. Her tone was hard, cold.
So she was still mad at him, Jason determined. "You mind telling me where my shirt went? I assume you took the liberty of my being knocked out to have a little fun?" He smirked at her, propping himself up on his elbow. His injured shoulder seared with pain at the movement, and he eased himself onto his back again with a poorly-hidden moan.
His first question was answered immediately as Riley stepped into his field of view. She was wearing his beige sweater that he had worn the day he stepped outside to annoy the Cobras. Only this time she wore flannel pyjama bottoms underneath. In Jason's world, she looked better without them. Her expression was as stony as her tone as she continued running her comb through her wet hair.
Where he would have gotten a light tap on his shoulder or an eye roll for his innuendo, he got a glare instead. Jason would have preferred a slap in the face to the cold radiating off Riley now. At least when she hit him he knew what she was feeling.
"Mind telling me why you decided to have a Cobra bludgeon you with a shotgun?" Riley asked, ignoring his attempt to lighten the mood.
Jason chuckled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "I wasn't trying to pick a fight with him. You know Ian, he wants to kill me every chance he gets. I'm irresistible." He said casually, trying to get even the tiniest smirk or laugh out of her. It wasn't working.
"Well, maybe next time I won't be there to pull him off of you before he stabs you in the heart." The girl said curtly, standing up and setting her comb on her desk.
Jason sat up, albeit painfully. A fleeting look of worry softened Riley's blue eyes, but they quickly iced over again. "What's up with you, Ryebread? I haven't seen you in two fucking weeks! Now one minute you're sleeping next to me like all's right with the world and the next you're…you're like this!" He gestured wildly at her, unable to find a suitable adjective. Angry, touchy, unreachable, generally pissed off. There were many words he could use.
Riley stared at him for a moment, appearing to choose her words carefully. "I just…have a lot on my mind, okay? Bandaging you up isn't helping me to sort it out. Plus, it's not like I have anywhere else to sleep. You are in my bed after all." She snapped after a short pause, dropping heavily into the chair at her desk. She rested her forehead on her hand with a tired sigh, looking at him through splayed fingers.
Jason huffed, propping himself against the wall the bed was situated against. "Well, I guess you can start by telling me why the silent treatment is your favourite form of punishment." Punishment. He hadn't thought of it that way until now.
"It's just what you said. Punishment, comeuppance, consequence, whatever you want to call it."
"Why?"
"That seems to be your favourite word, doesn't it?" Riley frowned.
"Riley…" Jason growled lowly. Now he was beginning to get pissed off. The unbearable aching in his shoulder shortened his already diminutive fuse.
She sighed again, but he caught a hint of a snarl in it. "Let's see…you ruined my Christmas by going out with some bitch we barely even know. Or like, for that matter. Then you kiss her without even caring whether I'm right there in front of you or not like I'm invisible. Actually, you've done that many, many times. This one's not that different. You treated me like I was the problem, when you don't even have the self-criticism to look at yourself." Riley finished bitterly, her voice dripping with venom.
Jason thought back to the party. Riley's accusatory glare, her interruption of his rather enjoyable make-out session with Christine. Her crying in front of the shop window, telling herself she wasn't good enough for him. Her longing, envious gaze whenever she passed by him kissing another girl. He let out a long breath, running a hand through his rumpled hair. "You're in love with me." He stated simply, flatly. He had known it for a while, he just didn't want to acknowledge it or actually do something about it, however many threats and promises he had thrown around in his head. The ones from his father counted, too.
Riley threw her hands up in exasperation. "Finally, something we can both agree on!"
The admittance both relieved a burden off Jason's shoulders and placed a new one on them. "I'm sorry…I thought you'd get over me, or something. Lots of girls did. I'm sorta used to getting my heart broken."
The girl scoffed indignantly. "Yeah, right. Your heart gets broken. I'd say you're the one doing the breaking."
"I won't deny that sometimes I am." Jason folded one arm behind his head. "Not all the time, though. Girls leave me, too." He paused as Riley giggled, like she thought that wasn't possible. "It's true!" Jason countered, silencing her. "Sometimes I see a really pretty girl, and then I think 'Hey, she could be good girlfriend material. I want to get to know her better'. Then I start to find out stuff about her, what she likes and what she doesn't, and well, you know the rest. A couple days later, bang!" He made a gun motion to his temple. "I see her with another guy, and I'm thrown away like trash."
"Is that what you really think? What about the way you said you didn't care about your casual flings?" Riley wasn't going to be brought down so easily.
"It ends before it even starts sometimes." Jason replied vaguely.
"And you're afraid to do anything with me because you're afraid I'll break your heart, just like those other girls?" Riley clarified, earning a somber nod from Jason. A short silence settled between them, tense as Jason waited for her to make a decision. Finally, "Bull. Do you know why else I was holding this back?"
"You're too shy to make a move because you don't want to ruin our friendship?" Jason tried.
"Strike One. You already ruined it at that party."
"You really, really want to kiss me, but you think you're a bad kisser and I'll make fun of you?" He smirked, getting a pillow from Riley's roommate's bed thrown in his face.
"Strike Two. And I'll have you know, I am not a bad kisser." Not that she had any proof. But Jason didn't need to know that.
"My words don't mean anything to you, do they?" Jason sighed exasperatedly, rubbing a hand down his face.
"Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner! Your prize is a generous helping of 'Get the fuck out of my room before I throw something hard at you'." Riley eyed the textbook sitting near her hand.
Jason glanced up, surprised, but it quickly passed. "How about I don't say anything, then?" He said hastily as Riley weighed the textbook in her hand. She eyed him warily, clenching her jaw, but letting him continue. "How about I do something for you? To convince both of us that we won't leave each other?"
Riley had a feeling she knew where this was going, but she nodded, signifying that he had her attention.
"How about I take you on a date? Somewhere nice, just the two of us, and I'll set up everything. I'll even hook up a moonlit horse-ride afterwards." Jason laid all the cards out on the table, waiting to see if she would accept them.
The offer was tempting; Riley doubted Jason had ever taken anyone on an actual date before. Make-out sessions in a girl's room didn't count, and neither did Christine. There was a problem, though. "There aren't any diners or restaurants around anymore."
Jason smirked, the devilish half-smile she loved and hated at the same time. "Ever heard of Chez Jason?" He waggled his eyebrows, imitating a very poor French accent.
A singular, giddy laugh escaped Riley's lips without her permission. "You're joking! Your parents would make a romantic dinner for us?"
"I never said they would do anything for us. I said I'd set everything up, remember? There's a catch, though. You have to help me with something."
Riley's momentary happiness shattered, but her mind was still buzzing with the prospect of a date with Jason. There was always a catch. "What now?" She crossed her arms, her tone irritated.
"Mostly you have to help me get the horse. For that we need those jackets I had with me. And…The Fireflies are hiding Infected in the underground prison. I want to check it out."
Riley imitated Jason's nervous habit, pushing a hand through her own damp hair. She let out a puff of air with an audible pop. "I don't know…" She wouldn't tell him she actually missed his hare-brained adventures, and that she had been bored out of her mind without him. That would make it seem like he won without a fight.
"C'mon, please?" He drew the word out, giving her his best puppy-dog eyes from under his eyelashes. Damn it, she had missed that, too. "Don't make me beg, I've never taken a girl out on a real date before."
After a few moments of poorly attempting to look serious, Riley caved. She could never stay mad at him, and it killed her to try. "Fine." She spat, despite the wide smile that cracked through the ice. She walked over to him and plopped herself down on the bed, gently pushing Jason down until she rested on top of him, legs tangled with his and her head on his chest. They laid like that for a while, him silently stroking her hair and her listening to his breathing and heartbeat underneath his skin. All her anger melted away, and she sighed contentedly.
"I hate you, Blue Jay." She murmured against his neck, smiling at the subtle shiver that rippled through his muscles. She traced the veins on his neck and chest absently, secretly delighting in the goosebumps her touch left behind on his skin. He was warm, comforting, familiar.
"I know you love me. I missed you too, Ryebread." Jason smiled against her hair, curling a strand of gold around his finger. He tucked it behind her ear.
"So are you going to make out passionately with me, too?"
"Don't push it." Jason said half-seriously. His eyelids drooped shut again, his recovering body demanding more rest. She sighed again, nestling her head deeper into the crook of his neck.
"It was worth a try."