Archive of Our Own

Jason can’t nearly pinpoint when it happened. 

He supposes it began in Bunker Nine, as most unexplained things did – he was sitting on the worktable, watching Leo explain the schematics of some new machine he was designing. Leo had been absolutely vibrant , his fingers tracing over sketches he’d scribbled on his whiteboard, eyes alit with excitement. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt and cargo pants, all covered in soot, googles pushing back his frizzy curls. He’d talked a mile a minute, voice resonating with a wild sort of happiness. And this’ll do this, and this goes here...  

A brief, passing thought flitted through his mind then: he looks radiant.   

Then it was gone, a quivering flame extinguished by surprise. He hadn’t dwelled on it any longer, offering up the meek excuse that he was allowed to appreciate his friend’s... looks, even when said friend looked like he’d just walked (no – sashayed ) out of a coal mine. It was too confusing to think about. 

Little instances like that continued to pop up like explosives in his picturesque, cobblestone path of thought. He became aware of how much Leo touched him – holding his hand, hugging him from behind to surprise him – and tried to pretend that these once casual interactions didn’t make his heart beat itself a drum solo. Once, Leo had been eating a churro, and Jason’s only coherent thought had been to reach up and wipe away the spot of chocolate at the edge of his lips. Another time, they’d been sharing a pair of earbuds when Leo’s sleeping head had fallen on his shoulder, and Jason hadn’t had a coherent thought at all. 

The cherry atop this soft-serve of self-denial had come in June, when the subject of sexuality had entered the conversation. Leo had never proclaimed his out loud, but when Jason asked (because he was curious , what else?) the boy had piped up with a casual, “Oh, I’m bi.” 

“Oh - um, congrats?” 

Leo had laughed, that same maddening sound he made whenever he puzzled out some mechanical problem after a day of troubleshooting. “I’m not graduating high school, Jase. Besides, I’ve known for a while now. How about you?” 

“Me?” 

“Yes, you.” He’d rolled his eyes affectionately, and Jason’s wits launched themselves out the window. He tried to think of an answer – he'd only ever dated one girl in his life, Piper, and that hadn’t really worked out, and besides her there weren’t a good deal of other crushes...his mind churned an answer through a meat grinder of excuses. 

 Part of his focus strayed to Leo, who was sprawled out in a hammock. Wind-tousled hair hung over his face. Jason wanted to brush the errant curls away, and he almost had, leaning close enough that he could see the shiny strands up close. And his gaze had trailed downwards, to the slope of his nose and the Cupid’s bow of his lips, and he’d wondered what it might be like to kiss them, just once.  

Then he’d realized what he was doing and sat straight up, face aflame. “I, uh – I don’t know.” 

Leo’s eyes opened minutely, and he smiled with those lips Jason had just thought about kissing. “That’s cool. No pressure to put a label on it, you know?” 

“Right,” he’d agreed. He wouldn’t process that previous whimsy – no, this was fine, he was fine- 

“ Nico,” Jason wheezes as he slams the door to the Hades cabin open, “Nico, I think I’m in love with my best friend.” 

“No, really?” Nico drawls, barely looking up from his book. 

“I’m serious,” he insists, shutting the door with his heel. The Hades cabin, as drearily macabre as it may look from the outside, is lined with bookshelves filled with novels and knick-knacks, a bed with thick coverlets and a dozen pillows, and tiny twinkling lights that paint every surface in shades of flickering bronze.  

Nico sits cross-legged on a pile of mussed blankets, thumbing the pages of a book – Jason manages to decipher the title after a few moments: Crime and Punishment. “Oh, I know. You aren’t subtle.” 

“You know?” His face goes chalk-white. “Does-” 

“-no one else, I can assure you.” Nico dog-ears his page and raises an eyebrow at Jason, who realizes he’s still standing at the cabin entrance looking like he just outran a hydra. He sighs raggedly and sits at the foot of the bed, hands tapping anxiously on his knees. 

“So,” Nico says, “what brought on this sudden midlife crisis?” 

Jason groans. “I don’t know? I mean, everything was fine until a few weeks ago.” 

“Define fine.” 

“Fine meaning I wasn’t thinking of kissing him.” He steals a pillow and buries his face in it. “Gods, this is ridiculous.” 

“I should be telling you it isn’t, but in all fairness, crushes are a little ridiculous.” Nico muses. “I’m getting déjà vu.” 

Jason recalls this exact same scene, except with Nico running into the imposing, less comfortable Zeus cabin (he had remodeled, but he wasn’t sure how he could remove the giant statue of his father in there and not look blasphemous) whisper-shouting about Will Solace this and Will Solace that. He’d been erratic and slightly panicky, but also offended, as though he were miffed that Will had had the gall to win his affections. 

Jason had been ecstatic about it, offering advice or lending an ear on occasion. He’d just never thought it would be his turn so soon. 

“I’m confused,” Jason mumbles into a pillow. He raises his head, rubbing his bleary eyes. Nico has his sketchbook now, drawing soft lines with a charcoal pencil. His disheveled hair is tied in a loose, messy bun at the nape of his neck, strands flicking out like ink smears. “I never felt this way about him before. Why now?” 

“Maybe because you aren’t dating Piper anymore,” Nico points out. “Part of the reason she broke up with you was because she was rediscovering her sexuality, remember? Who’s to say the Mist didn’t skew your preferences, too?” 

“That’s...true,” he admits. He’d never thought of it that way. “But I was fine with our relationship.” 

“Fine isn’t the same as happy, Jason. I think...” he reaches for a color pastel, the selected cornflower blue bright against his olive skin. “I think you just didn’t realize that, what with the quest. I’m not saying you weren’t genuine  – I think you were relieved to have someone to lean on and confide in, and that could’ve been anyone, as long as it was someone . Now that things are slowing down, you have more time to notice these things.” 

He chews his lip, thinking of all the moments he’d shared with Piper aboard the Argo II. There aren’t any in particular that stick out as fake or insincere. None of them stick out at all, as though the memories are like drying photos in a red room, dim and undeveloped. They’d held hands and cuddled and kissed, sure, but there wasn’t a magnetic pull pushing them together. He’d blushed, but had never been flustered. He’d thought of her often, but had never dreamed. He’d never felt giddy or dizzy or anxious – always some pastel version of those utterly neon emotions. 

He sighs. “It’s been months since she’s broken up with me, though. Wouldn’t I have noticed other guys at that point?” 

Nico shrugs. “Maybe you need to form a bond with them first.” He smiles slyly. “Or maybe you’ve just been moony over Valdez this whole time.” 

Jason chucks his pillow at him, and he dodges, stifling a laugh. “Don’t even put that idea in my mind.” 

“And make you reevaluate your entire relationship with him? That sounds horrible. I would never.” 

He grumbles something akin to, ‘ who even uses the word moony these days anyways?’ and trains his gaze on the fairy lights strung across the walls, glowing like fireflies. “Hilarious.” 

“A pleasure,” Nico quips. “Now - repeat after me: ‘I like Leo Valdez.’” 

Jason’s head snaps up. His cheeks feel unbearably warm. “ What? ” 

“That’s not what I asked you to repeat. Try again.” 

“I - Nico, what’s the point of this?” 

“To make sure you and your stupid brain understand that you’ve got a crush,” Nico supplies. “Because I know the minute you walk out of here you’re going to be rationalizing your feelings every which way. Admitting you like him is the first step.” 

“But-” 

Nico fixes him with a short, stern glare. His dark eyes smolder like burning coals. “You did the same thing with me, remember?” 

“Oh, so this is just revenge.” 

“You don’t know the fundamentals of revenge,” Nico chastises. “Now. Repeat after me: ‘I like Leo Valdez.’” 

“I like Leo Valdez,” he says quickly, ushering the words out in embarrassment. He feels like he’s following a motivational exercise video, except the trainer is a slightly vengeful son of Hades. “There.” 

“Good.” Nico returns to his drawing. Jason stares at him for a moment, then another. Eventually the other boy glances up at him, puzzled. “You’re still here?” 

“Um...yes?” 

“What, do you want help getting a date, too?” 

“...Um. I’m not sure.” He smiles nervously. “Maybe?” 

Nico sighs dramatically, tossing away his sketchbook. “Okay. What did you have in mind?” 

Jason continues to smile nervously. 

“Nothing, then.” Nico leaps off the bed, pacing throughout the room. “Picnic?” 

Jason recalls having given the same suggestion to Nico when he had been the one coming for advice – and now it’s a bit of a tradition for Nico and Will to go on picnics in the woods whenever they get the chance. Jason tries to imagine that with him and Leo: the two of them surrounded by food, enjoying the sunshine and woodland creatures. The image is tainted fairly quickly, though, when Imaginary Leo snorts so hard he sets his body on fire, and consequently the forest, too.  

He winces as the daydream crumbles to ashes. “Could be dangerous. Leo spontaneously combusts sometimes.” 

“True.” Nico taps his chin. “Picking strawberries?” 

“Same problem. And I don’t want the entire satyr population and Demeter cabin out to murder him, either.” 

“I’ve got it,” Nico says suddenly. “I know a place you two could go.” 

“Really?” 

“Of course.” He points at Jason, almost accusingly. “I can shadow-travel you there. But it’s up to you to ask him out.” 

“Ask him,” Jason repeats, mouth dry. “Yeah, that’s...that’s okay. I can do that.” 

“You had better not be lying to yourself, Jason.” 

I seriously hope I’m not.   

“Oh, so you’re asking me on a date?” 

Jason nods with rusty joints. They’re in Bunker Nine, and it’s late enough that Leo is starting to put his materials away for the day. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am.” 

Leo blinks slowly, trying to process. Then he beams, a slight blush dusting his cheeks. “Sure. I’ll go on a date with you, Jase.” 

“Great!” he answers, too fast and too anxious. “Um - is tomorrow okay?” 

“Any day is okay.” Leo looks a little flustered, and he’s tapping restlessly on the worktable. 

“Let’s meet up here at nine tomorrow, then.” 

“As long as you don’t mean nine in the morning, I’m game.” Leo shoots him another bubbly grin, and Jason’s common sense kindly crumples into a ball and explodes. He finds himself rushing to the Hades cabin the next day, just an hour before he’s due to see Leo, all parts manic and frenzied.  

“I’ve got the date!” he yells breathlessly, entering the cabin with all the grace of a blobfish. 

“Wow,” Nico responds sarcastically. “And it only took you two weeks.” 

“Cut me some slack,” he grouses. He can’t even spare the energy to be annoyed. He’s all too giddy now, and when he walks, he feels he might accidentally start flying. “I got it. I’ve got it, Nico.” 

“Yes, yes, I heard you.” He sheds the irritation for a genuine smile. “Congratulations. When is it?” 

“At nine.” 

“Tomorrow?” 

He winces. “Try today. ” 

Nico’s jaw drops. “Are you kidding me? You only have one hour to prepare!” 

“Prepare?” He looks down at his camp t-shirt. “I am prepared.” 

“Oh no you are not, Grace,” he growls, pushing Jason onto the bed. He retreats into his closet and, a moment later, returns with a few shirts, jeans, and jackets. “You aren’t going on your first date in your camp t-shirt. Absolutely not.” He squints at a plain grey sweater and sighs. “Ah, right. Size difference.” 

“Didn’t you go on a date with Will in your typical clothes?” Jason asks. 

“Your point?” He flings aside a pair of jeans. “And I was wearing a new turtleneck, thank you very much.” 

“Uh-huh.” Jason glances at himself in the mirror. He wasn’t really considering clothes, and it isn’t like he has anything else to wear besides his Camp Jupiter tee and a few undershirts. He had cleaned up the best he could, but maybe it would come off as low-effort? He hadn’t thought of that before. It’s only common courtesy to tidy oneself up for those you care about, and he looks the same as he always does. Maybe that would come off as- 

“Earth to Jason?” Nico’s voice rips through his sudden stream of panic. “Sit down.” 

Jason complies, too dazed to argue. Nico squints at his crop of hair. “Your hair is a little messy, but we’ll play it off as charming, and since none of my shirts fit, we’ll have to go with a jacket...” He pulls out a dark navy windbreaker, the wispy fabric shifting under his fingers. “This’ll do. And – gods, your shoes are mud-caked.” 

“Have you seen your boots?” Jason asks. 

“I’ve seen them. And I’m ignoring them.” Nico reaches for a pair of sneakers. “These are Percy’s, and you guys probably have a similar shoe size.” 

“Uh, thanks.” He slips them on. They’re a little tight, but he loosens up the shoelaces and finds them a comfortable fit. “Anything else, Wintour?” 

He can feel Nico’s eye roll from across the room. “Not yet, Willy Wonka.” He gestures to Jason’s jeans. “Are those flammable?” 

“Yes?” 

“Then I hope you’re wearing the normal pair of underwear.” Jason’s face turns an embarrassing shade of crimson. “Did you brush your teeth?” 

“Of course I did.” 

“Not enough. Here.” He tosses a stick of gum, and Jason fumbles to catch it. He unwraps the shiny foil and shoves the candy in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before gagging.  

“Gods, what is this?” 

He smirks. “Will’s ‘medicinal’ gum. It’s sugarless. Keeps you alert, but also makes your breath smell normal. Works better than anything I’ve tried so far.” He hands Jason another stick. “For later, after the meal.” 

“Meal? So it’s a restaurant?” 

“A nice whole-in-the-wall place,” Nico confirms. “The food and atmosphere are great. Oh, I just remembered-” He opens his nightstand drawer and fishes out a bottle of perfume, spritzing a spray of sweet, rose-smelling fragrance on Jason with flourish, like an artist adding the final strokes of color on a painting. “There.” 

The floral scent is relaxing at the least, and Jason’s tangled nerves unwind just a bit. “Perfume?” 

“I borrowed it from Valentina,” he says with a shrug. “I would’ve given you anti-perspirant, but I don’t have any on hand right now.” 

“You’ve been spending too much time in the Aphrodite cabin.” 

“It’s been beneficial,” he admits. “But you’re as ready as you can be.” 

Jason sinks into the mattress of Nico’s bed, examining his palms. “I hope so. I was so awkward when asking him out. I really don’t want the date to be as...stiff.” 

“Leo? Stiff? I’ll believe it when I see it,” Nico mutters. “But I think you two will be fine. The beginning will be a little uneasy, but you’ll end up in normal territory soon enough. You’ve worked up the nerve to ask him out, and I know you can do this, too.” 

“Aw,” Jason croons, wiping an imaginary tear. “You believe in me? I’m touched.” 

“I just re-did your entire outfit, Grace. Don’t give yourself too much credit.” 

“So supportive.” 

Nico nudges him in the shoulder. “You’ll be fine. It’s your best friend. You can only be awkward for so long, right?” 

“We saw how well that worked with Piper.” 

“But Leo was your friend before your crush. He’s still your friend. I think that counts for something.” 

He isn’t wrong, but that’s exactly why Jason’s so nervous. There’s more on the line here. He hasn’t even processed the implications of Leo accepting his invite to begin with – it didn’t necessarily mean that Leo echoed his feelings, just that he liked him enough to consider going on a date with him. How can he relax and take it easy when he has expectations to exceed? 

“Hey,” Nico says softly. “Jason.” He gently pulls him into a hug. It’s a rare thing for Nico to initiate them, but Jason accepts regardless and buries his face into the former’s chest, wrapping his arms around Nico’s waist. He’s one of the few people that Jason can be affectionate with on this level – at first, the son of Hades had scorned any platonic touch, but the hatred eventually whittled away into content. There were evenings where they would just talk, enveloped in one another, especially on days when Jason was stressed and needed comfort – like now. 

“Here’s how this is going to go,” Nico tells him. “You’re going to meet Leo, and if he doesn’t forget how to speak English when he sees you, he isn’t a keeper.” 

Jason snorts.  

Nico continues. “You’ll share a very romantic candlelight dinner. You might end of stuttering through your words, or spilling something on Leo, but I can guarantee he’ll be doing the same thing. He might accidentally set himself on fire, or tell bad jokes the whole time. You’ll both be anxious, but there’ll be a point where you both notice how anxious you are, and laugh it off.” He smiles. “Then you’ll be okay for the rest of it.” 

“How do you know?” 

“Because,” he says, looking at Jason fondly, “that’s what you told me , remember? Take your own advice. Trust yourself, and your friendship with Leo. You’ve been through too much for a single date to ruin anything.” 

“I...I guess,” he relents. “I’m still nervous.” 

“It’s only natural.” 

Jason can’t help but recall his dates with Piper, which were far and few in between. He’d never been so nervous – mostly relaxed. He’d thought that was a good thing.  

“By the way,” Nico says after a moment. “I’m going to spare Leo the shovel talk because I’m assuming he knows that if he does anything vaguely bad, he’ll end up in the ground. For the second time.” He flicks Jason’s forehead. “But he likes you too much for that, right?” 

“Nico. ” 

“What?” The son of Hades grins. “I’m just saying.” 

Well, Jason thinks numbly. 

His mind has been mostly empty for the past five minutes since they’ve shadow traveled to the restaurant. Earlier, Jason had asked why they couldn’t just drive, to which Nico had replied, “You’ll thank me later.” 

He’d been right, in a way. Shadow-travel didn’t bode well with Leo, who upon exiting the shadows promptly linked arms with Jason to keep from keeling over. His head of dark hair leant against Jason’s bicep, and he’d drowsily laughed and made some joke about fainting. His fingers, warm and lithe, tapped idly against Jason’s skin.  

Well, he thinks again, his thoughts flying like electrons around his melted nucleus of a brain. He tries to stabilize himself – the restaurant is cozy, and the table they’ve snagged is underneath a row of low-lit recessed lights, tucked against a brick wall and the rhythmic waves of faint jazz. He slides into a comfortably upholstered booth, drinking in the rustic atmosphere. The air smells of snipped herbs and freshly baked garlic bread. Onstage, a woman in a misty blue dress croons wistfully into a microphone. There’s a sprinkling of people at every other table, but their conversations are so hushed that he and Leo may as well be alone. 

Leo sits languidly across him, looking like a dream. He’s only ever worn ripped shirts and baggy pants, all dazzled up with stains from sticking his head in places the average human never could. Even then he was pretty, because he just didn’t care if anyone saw him that way. The son of Hephaestus held so little care for appearance when Jason had been groomed to keep up his, and he’d be jealous if he didn’t love it so much. 

Right now, Leo’s wearing a dark red shirt – though the edge rides up his stomach (Jason’s exact thoughts at that moment mostly consist of: it’s a crop-top oh my gods), and the sleeves are as short as can be. There’s a thin black jacket that slides down his shoulders, and his typical cargo pants. There are phantom flecks of oil on his clothes, not enough to be noticeable by anyone who isn’t looking. 

Jason shields his blushing face with a heavy leather-bound menu. Well.  

“So, whatcha gonna order?” Leo asks him. He’s flipping through the laminated pages with one hand, tapping relentlessly on the lacquered table with the other. “Is it bad that I kind of want a burger?” 

“So many options, and you want a burger?” 

“I’m feeling nostalgic,” he replies. “Actually...maybe shrimp. But after that Shrimpzilla incident on the Argo II, I dunno about that one either.” 

Jason blinks. “Shrimpzilla?” 

“You know, that giant monster that attacked us.” 

“Do you know how little that narrows it down?” 

Leo smirks. “Okay, okay. But it’s the one that got Hazel, Frank, and I chucked overboard. And-” 

“-the brownie monster?” 

Leo stares at him, a disbelieving smile on his face. Jason curses himself. Brownie monster? Jason Grace, you moron. “Brownie monster?” 

“Look,” he says, a cold sweat forming on his brow, “I just remember it that way because of the brownies you brought back. It was a...” 

“Brain fart?” Leo suggests innocently. 

“Yeah, a brain- Leo. ” 

“What? That’s what people call it.” 

“It was a mental lapse. ” 

Leo laughs, and the sound resonates through their shared booth. “You can just say fart, Mr. Pontifex Maximus. ” 

“And ruin my reputation?” He pokes Leo with his closed menu. “I couldn’t.” 

“You’re already on a date with me, Jase. Scandalous!” 

Date. Jason’s reminded of what this is again. The realization is akin to being dunked into ice water after a dip in the sauna. Leo seems to have the same dreadful epiphany, and he gazes out to the side. The watered-out lights highlight his blush – and his blush is brighter in the dark, like the fire in his veins has collected there, ready to burn. He waves for a waitress and, despite all previous conversation, orders a shrimp platter. 

Jason swallows a sigh and grapples with the cushy booth, searching for something to grab (he ought to invest in stress balls.) They’re silent for a moment until Leo says, in perhaps the quietest voice Jason’s ever heard from him, “Sorry.” 

His head jolts up. “Sorry? For what?” 

He shrugs, trying for a smile. “Ruining the mood?” 

“You didn’t-” 

“Who are you trying to kid here, Jase? We had, like, a flow going. Then I messed it up.” 

“It’s to be expected,” he says. “And to be fair, at least you tried to start up a conversation. You don’t even look nervous.” 

“I-” Leo laughs incredulously. “I don’t look nervous? Then I’m a better actor than I thought.” He points to his left hand, which is still tapping the table’s wooden edge. “I feel like it’s real obvious from this side of the room.” 

“But you’re always doing that,” Jason points out.  

“I do it when I’m nervous and I’m trying to calm down. It’s morse code.” 

“Oh. What does it mean?” 

His best friend raises a finger to answer. Then his head bursts into flames.  

“Leo!” Jason reaches for a glass of water, only to remember that he hadn’t ordered any. The mortals don’t bat an eye at the living matchstick that’s just erupted in the restaurant. The son of Hephaestus manages to self-extinguish, though, before the flames can spread. “Thank the gods.” 

“The gods gave me this ability,” he jokes. “Let’s just hope the smoke alarm doesn’t go off.” 

 Leo’s order arrives, and Jason’s grateful for the distraction. Shrimp, their skin supple and seasoned, curl around a bowl of red sauce, a curtain of steam rising from their crimped tails. Leo dips a shrimp and offers it to him – Jason's about to accept it when a voice that sounds suspiciously like Nico’s tells him to lean closer instead. Trying not to think, he quickly bites off the morsel, straight from Leo’s outstretched hand.  

Tangy sauce stains his lips as he chews. He’s so entranced by the taste that he only sees Leo’s dubious stare after he swallows. “Uh - sorry, was that-” 

“Dude,” Leo says, grinning.  

“What?” He’s as pink as the shrimp on his tongue. “I just thought – well, people on dates feed each other, right?” 

“Why are you asking me? You’re the one with experience.” 

“Okay, but this is different.” 

Leo arches an eyebrow. “Is it? How? ‘Cause I’m not Piper?” 

“No, because Piper isn’t you.” 

Leo’s gone pink now, too, but pink on him is a bright fuchsia that illuminates the room. There isn’t a single color that looks dull on him. He pulls himself together before he goes speechless again and pretends to swoon, falling against the table. “I’ve fainted again. You’re a lady-killer, Jason.” 

Jason pulls out a napkin from the dispenser and slides it past the silver shrimp platter. Quietly, he says, “Handkerchief, ma’am?” 

Leo makes eye contact with the tissue, then locks gazes with Jason, who’s mouth is a warbling line trying not to snap with laughter – yet the laughter comes, and it spills over the table, pooling at their feet like bubbly sparkling water. Every time it seems to die down, the tissue lying between them sends them reeling back into peels of absurd laughter.  

“This is stupid,” Jason complains, his lips threatening to curl up at the edges. “It’s a napkin.” 

“Excuse me, sir, it’s a hanky and I’m going to use it,” Leo replies in the most obnoxious accent Jason’s ever heard. He dabs at the nonexistent stain on his chin. “Also, it’s my turn.” 

“Your turn?” 

He opens his mouth and points at the shrimp. “Don’t think you can get out of feeding me, Sir Grace.” 

And he doesn’t. The prospect is something that should’ve made him sweat his own personal Red Sea, but the glacier of awkwardness has yet to sink their ship yet, and his flustered brain has practically melted anyways. Leo leans in, dipping his head of curls to nip at the food in Jason’s grasp. His other palm reaches up and gently pulls Jason’s hand closer so he can reach. 

 When he sits down, he’s still holding Jason’s hand. Well , he thinks, and the thought is twisted like a pretzel.  

“What?” Leo asks, munching on another piece of shrimp. He smirks like he’s won something. “Isn’t this what people on a date do?” 

“We held hands,” Jason says hoarsely. 

“That’s the eleventh time you’ve told me that,” Nico notes. “But good for you.” 

Jason shifts positions on the bed, squeezing the feathery life out of a cushion. “He just did it so casually, too. He told me he was nervous, and then he does that.” 

Nico twists a peg on his violin, which perches on his shoulder like a lacquered bird cranking out melancholy notes. “But you offered him food, too. Very bold move. And the fact that he held your hand means he’s most likely interested.” 

“His hand was so warm,” Jason mumbles into his pillow. 

“Okay, you’re clearly not listening.” Nico juts his leg off the side of the bed, drawing his bow over the violin’s strings. “I’ll let you swoon in peace, then.” 

“Hey,” Jason protests, momentarily raising his head, “You were the exact same way, Death Boy.” 

“We’re bringing back the bad nicknames?” Nico asks. “Besides, I had a good reason to be – I mean, Will’s hands are so warm, and even when it’s cold out he’s like a portable air conditioner, and -” He halts, hiding his face with the folds of his lanky sweater sleeve. “You get what I mean.” 

Jason snorts. “Yeah. I mean, I guess I do now.” Panic leeches into his expression. “But my hands were sweaty... I hope he didn’t notice.” 

“He definitely noticed.” 

“Crap,” he grumbles.  

“To be fair, his hand was probably sweaty, too.” 

“Crap.”  

“Jason, it’s not that big a deal. Leo’s seen you half-dead. He’s not going to care.” 

“Nico, let me remind you that you borrowed a whole canister of vanilla lotion from Annabeth after your first date.” 

“You know, Grace, there are days where you were a better person as an amnesiac.” 

Jason kicks Nico limply, but the other boy only plays a swift note on his violin and laughs. “You didn’t even know me as an amnesiac.” 

“Unfortunately,” Nico trills. “But it’s not worth it thinking about all the ways you messed up. And he agreed to go to another one, so I’d consider it a success.” 

“That’s true,” he admits. He mulls over the date, the discordant sound of strings being tested and plucked filling the silence.  

“Nico.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I mentioned my ex-girlfriend during a date.” 

“Jason Middle-Name Grace, please tell me you’re joking.” 

Somehow, some way, Jason gets five more dates with Leo Valdez. 

The second was at a roller rink out of town, another suggestion of Nico’s: “You can’t skate, but Leo practically lives in rollerblades, which means he‘ll be forced to guide you around.” 

Leo had actually laughed hysterically while Jason tripped and stumbled and hung onto the rail for dear life, but eventually he gathered his laughter together and helped the son of Zeus. His knees had been knobby and unsure, and Leo’s gait confident – but Leo tripped over himself too, and got up again without fail, smiling up at Jason. They even danced a little when the music oozed to a slow, sensual beat, hands on each other’s waists as the lights from the disco ball spun around them.  

(There are words Jason’s never had any use for up until a certain experience. The two of them spinning like tangled pinwheels in the rink is his first time feeling well and truly mesmerized .) 

The third date is at camp, in the lake. Nico doesn’t explain why this is a good idea – all he does is shove his face in the book he’s reading.  

Summer comes with a vengeance, and the air turns hot, making every limb sticky and slow like pudding. In the water, though, the heat melts away, waves lapping at their bobbing bodies. They’re both shirtless, but more importantly, teen boys. They kick, shove, and splash each other, their skin wet and electrifying with every touch.  

The fourth date is nestled in a familiar place – Bunker Nine. Leo cooks dinner. He cobbles together two plates filled with everything, the smell heavenly, and they sit by the stump of stairs and eat, putting off the dishes for tomorrow. It’s the best date in every way, because when Jason rises to leave for his cabin, Leo grabs his sleeve and pulls him into the hammock with him. You aren’t going anywhere.  

Dizzily, he thought: How can I?  

The fifth date is, ironically, on the fourth of July. They share a blanket, spread over a patch of dewy grass. Leo joins him late and breathless, saying something about how he had to help set up the fireworks. Nyssa covered for me, he tells Jason. They slide into silence, staring at the stars, their fingers intertwined in a way that’s become normal for them.  

Jason produces a chocolate cake from a basket, something he’d had Percy’s help baking, because the frosting is blue. He’d forgotten the silverware, and, impatient, they dig in with their hands, laughing over the sound of the wind. Fireworks explode in a shower of brilliance, in every color imaginable, washing them in streaks of light. They catch each other’s eye.  

Maybe it’s that it’s dark out, or that they’re alone, or that the cake’s filled them with a giddy, childlike sense of shamelessness. It happens before he can think.  

“We kissed,” Jason half-screams into a pillow.  

Nico genuinely smiles this time. “I believe my work here is done, then.” 

“We kissed,” Jason repeats, like saying it one more time will make him believe it happened. “Under the fireworks.” 

“Very romantic.” Nico agrees. 

He makes an incoherent sound and falls on the bed with a thump . “I can’t...gods, I’m just. What? How?” 

“That’s the most intelligent thing you’ve said this entire time.” 

“Shut up, Nico,” he grumbles, kicking his legs. “I’ve never had a kiss like that. It was so...I don’t know. I need to drink something. No, I need to walk-” 

 “You need to sit down before you explode,” Nico says. He hands Jason a Kit Kat from the bowl on his bookshelf. “Eat up. It’s too late to be this emotionally exhausted.” 

The chocolate does help a bit. He swallows the wafer, crumpling up the wrapper. “Thanks. Um, for helping.” 

“You don’t need to thank me.” The son of Hades reclines on the bed next to him, arms folded behind his head. “Friends do that sort of thing for each other.” 

Jason considers making a joke about how Nico is - for once - admitting their friendship out loud, but instead he smiles and leans back on the bed. “Yeah.” 

They lie down for a moment, saying nothing in particular, merely enjoying the silence. It’s a nice bit of calm, especially after the hectic weeks Jason’s spent both here and out with Leo. He can’t comprehend any of it, but it’s there and tangible and real . And there’s no better feeling, he thinks, than having those feelings released and requited. 

A thought occurs to him then. “Hey, Nico?” 

“Mhm?” 

“So...how do I ask Leo out, exactly? We were too busy...you know, making out to actually say anything.” 

“Oh my gods, Jason.”