reflection ● jason grace

one shot: love languages

But no one else was going to do it, and Daria would hate to stop playing before she'd won. She stood up. Clara tsked in sympathy and without a second comment, went back to playing. Traitors.

Immediately, Daria knew what the argument had been about. She'd been trying to get better about the whole I know everything expression she wore — constantly, according to Nathan — but it was ridiculous to try and pretend with her two best friends. Especially when Reyna looked like she was one word away from snapping something she'll regret.

"Reyna," Daria murmured as Jason's head snapped towards the incoming footsteps. Accusing anyone of wrongdoing wouldn't be any good today. "Our team's up."

"Right," she returned, breaking her icy facade to offer Daria a small apologetic smile. She jutted her head towards Jason before leaving, deal with him.

Daria bit her lip as Jason glared at the floor. Their relationship was still new, Daria wasn't quite sure how close was too close, how close was too far. He'd been tense for a couple of days now. And as you might know, Daria was very afraid of fucking up a good thing.

But their friendship was so old that Daria often had trouble remembering when it first began. Distance wouldn't do. She wrapped her arms around him in a hug, trying not to spill what was left of her drink. "What's wrong?"

Jason groaned; Daria could feel him gesticulate behind her in frustration. "Reyna," he grumbled, pressing his face into her hair.

"It's not just Reyna," she said thoughtfully. The hackles of his shoulders stayed raised. She pulled away to examine his face, blue eyes tinted with something darker. "She's gone, and you're still upset."

"It's Reyna," he insisted.

She didn't break their gaze, trying to refrain from saying, it's not. Clearly, he didn't want to talk about it; Daria wasn't keen to force him. "Wanna go back?" When Jason looked like he was contemplating running out of his own house, she offered him her mug. "Hot chocolate?"

His nose twitched in mock-disgust. "Pass." He touched her shoulder lightly as she sipped, as if just reminded of something. "You cleaned my house."

Daria raised her eyebrow, so he had noticed. "I organized," she corrected. "Because it was driving me insane." But really, Jason always felt better when things were neat; he just hadn't had time recently to do much of anything except lead a legion.

Jason grinned sarcastically, some of the tension leaving his face. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "For thinking of me."

"I'm always thinking of you," she said absentmindedly. "Now come on. Let's go destroy our friends at charades."

Words of Affirmation: Sticky Notes.

It started as a joke. Mostly.

Jason told Dakota, who told Nathan, who told Reyna, who told Michael to tell Daria, who then complained about it to Clara, who was very miffed that she hadn't been included in Jason's scheming in the first place.

"He ruined my desk," Daria whined at breakfast, which was just the two of them and Dakota.

"I don't think he ruined it," Clara replied, eating her cereal, ever the voice of reason. "It's just one sticky note. And it's kind of sweet, Daria."

Daria stared at her like she'd grown a second head. "He called me princess!"

Dakota grabbed the note from where she was waving it angrily. A month after the war found new recruits who liked to stare at the seven of them whenever they were in range. They'd created something of a name for themselves. Daria was unsure of whether that was good or bad.