Written for: luvscharlie
Warnings/Spoilers: Nothing in particular.
Notes: I hope you enjoy this, dear! Jason/Rachel's my little guilty pleasure ship and it was fun to write them for a change.
Jason Grace does not like Oracles.
He partially blames Octavian for this because Octavian is a dick and he's learned should distrust most of the older boy's auguries on principle because they were usually lies. He also blames this dislike on perpetually being a target of any and all prophecies thrown his way in the last five years.
Really, it's a pity he doesn't like Oracles because he's pretty sure he'd like Rachel Elizabeth Dare otherwise.
He'd like her a lot.
Jason Grace is not the sort of boy Rachel Elizabeth Dare usually takes a shine to.
She likes her men older and skinny as a rail, with rough, five o'clock shadows and hands stained with inks and paints. She likes the ones who earrings and wear sweaters with holes and can talk about James Joyce just as easily as the lasting effect the Occupy and Tea Party movement has had on American politics.
In short, she does not like Jason Grace, who wears cutoff shirts, has more muscles than he knows what to do with, and probably thinks James Joyce is some kind of basketball star.
It doesn't stop her from fantasizing about him though.
Jason might not be her type, but damn, he sure is fine to look at.
Rachel's doing some kind of Christmas themed, living art project/pageant with the most exhibitionist of the Apollo and Aphrodite kids (which is all of them) that year, and her tinsel hair piece actually manages to get stuck in her obnoxious red curls.
Jason walks by as she's struggling and failing to pull it out, and quips, “I don't think that's an approved use of tinsel, Dare.”
“Oh stuff it, Grace,” she snaps back, eyes a little red around the edges and she shoves past him, hurrying off in the direction of the big house.
When he sees her at breakfast the next morning, the uncontrollable frizz is gone, replaced by a short, sleek bob that shows off her long, freckled neck and frames her face in an entirely new way. Jason's always vaguely thought that Rachel is cute, but the new haircut is drop-dead sexy.
Dammit, he's in trouble.
“I need your help.”
It pains her to say it, and to say it to Jason Grace of all people.
It's not that Rachel doesn't like Jason, because he's actually rather sweet and kind once you get past the serious facade he puts on for everyone and he throws the mantle of leadership aside. It's just that... well, he's Jason, a son of Jupiter, and ever since he got his memory back all those years ago, there's an extremely douchey part of him that likes to rear it's ugly head and demand attention every so often.
She's praying that today's not one of those days.
“What do you need?” he asks, clearly thinking she's going to ask him to go slay a drakon or sail the sea of monsters or something.
“Um,” she says, unable to stop the blush from creeping on her cheeks. She wishes she had her hair back so she could hide behind it, even though that's something she never did before in her life. “I need a date. To my parents' holiday party, otherwise I have to get hit on by trust fund managers three times my age. Usually Apollo goes, but he's busy this year and Percy's got Annabeth, so... um... ”
“Sure,” Jason says after a moment of contemplation. “I'll do it.”
Rachel blushes in relief and smiles. “You'll need a suit jacket. And a tie.”
She'll keep pretending that seeing Jason's hard physique in a suit has nothing to do with why she asked him in the first place.
When Rachel introduces him to her parents at the party, Jason can tell right away that Mrs. and Mr. Dare like him and that's an entirely new experience for all of the Dares, apparently.
“Like, seriously, did you put something in their drinks?” Rachel hisses as he leads her around the dance floor, only stepping on her toes twice. “They never like boys I bring to parties. Neeeever.”
Jason wonders if he's supposed to be feel the little flash of pride he does upon learning this.
“I was nothing but my charming self,” Jason says with a laugh. Then he pulls her flush against him, and murmurs in her ear. “I'm sure they'd change their opinion on me pretty fast if they found out what I want to do to you in the upstairs closet.”
Rachel goes stiff and shit, maybe Jason read too much into her behavior tonight and she didn't mean anything by the heavy flirting and teasing she'd been doing with him all night. Gods, he's an idiot. Way to ruin Christmas, Grace.
Rachel pulls away and Jason skews up his face, preparing for a slap, but then she says, smirking, “You realize we do have a bunch of guest rooms in this house for the express purpose of clandestine trysts, right?”
“What?” Jason says stupidly, and she rolls her eyes as she grabs him by the hand and leads him off the dance floor.
Huh. Maybe Oracles aren't all that hard to figure out after all.
Jason Grace, Rachel Elizabeth Dare can happily report, looks just as good in a suit as he does out of it.
And he does know who James Joyce is. Well, only as the “that dude who wrote creepy letters to his wife?” but she can work on that.