Chapter Text
Thinking back on it, cuddling with Jason wasn’t the most platonic thing Leo’s ever done.
He’s been doing a lot of pondering lately – introspection, Annabeth would call it. Considering parts of himself he never once did, dazedly running over past events with a new lense. He’s certain he likes boys, but only because he’s loved one, discreetly, unknowingly. His own feelings had clung to his backside like fog, a thin layer of white, cloudy film hanging over his eyes. He’d acknowledged that it was there, but hadn’t known what it was.
Reminiscing with this newfound perspective is like looking through an old photo album and wiping away dust to see the clearer picture underneath. There, on the first page – him looking at Jason for far too long, as though he’s admiring a pretty sculpture. On the next, them holding hands as they run through a crowd at a parade. All the times Jason lifted Leo off the ground in his excitement, like how he did when he burst into the dorm and cried, I got a part in the play! and spun Leo around until they were both dizzy and breathless.
What excuse had he given himself in those moments? Ah, boys being boys. Holding hands and spinning each other around and cuddling under the blankets for comfort. Boys being boys.
Ha, he thinks dryly.
Things are clearer in a way they weren’t before. But now that the lenses are on, he can’t take them off. If Jason holds his hand while they recite poems in the cave, or shoots him a wink during football – well, Leo doesn’t have the years of built in, subconscious excuses to fall back on. Blush shoots up his face like pox, and there’s a new tension that spreads like ice over their easygoing current.
It’s like that this morning when Leo returns from town. Jason’s on his bed, his feet lost in a sea of parchment. “Jase? I got the chocolate you wanted me to pick up...not sure if this is the right brand, though.”
His friend perks up, shoving the papers aside. He’s awfully disorganized these days, which is usually Leo’s department. “Oh, that’s the kind.”
Their hands brush in the exchange, and Jason’s fingers dart away. He shoves the chocolate in a random desk drawer - not so gingerly, which is also unlike him. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” He tries for casual. “So, you ready for the big day?”
“Not even,” Jason grouses. “I mean, I have all my lines memorized, and all the stage cues, too, but...”
“Worried a set piece might mysteriously fall on you halfway through the show?”
“Leo!” Jason throws a pillow at his face, but Leo’s already laughing. “I never thought of sabotage...”
“Jase, you’re catastrophizing. This isn’t a noir movie. There won’t be any sabotage...unless, of course, you’d like me to arrange something, then-mmph!” He rips the cushion Jason’s thrown at him off his face. “Seriously?”
“I’m stopping you from considering any outrageous ideas,” Jason says with a roll of his eyes. His gaze grows sullen, and he hugs his knees. “Besides, there’s only one real concern, anyways.”
He attempts a reassuring smile. “Your dad isn’t going to show up out of nowhere for a play, Jase. He’s probably at some business trip far away – say, Greece.”
“He was born there, actually.” Jason releases his tight grip on his knees. “I just...if he comes somehow, I know he’ll make me give everything up. I can’t give this up. I didn’t realize it before, but the more practices I go to, the more I want to do this forever. I love acting. I can’t even pretend I want to be a doctor anymore.”
“To be fair, I doubt anyone wants to go through eight years of medical school.”
Jason snorts. “I certainly don’t. But my dad doesn’t want me to ‘waste opportunities.’ I don’t even think he considers acting a valid career. My mom tried and failed to be one, and I don’t think my dad wants a repeat of that failure. Which means making me into the perfect doctor, I guess.”
If this were a cheap flick, Leo might’ve told Jason to give his father a chance – ‘If you show him your passion, he can’t reject your dreams, Jason McGrace!’ Instead, he opts for, “You’re going to blow everyone away. You don’t have to prove yourself to that scumbag. And after...well, once you’re done with high school, you don’t need to listen to your dad anymore, right? Age of majority and whatnot?”
“I...guess? But that’s twenty-one here. I’ll be well into pre-med then.”
“Drop out?”
Jason half-chokes, half-laughs. “And then what? Spend the rest of my scholarship money on an acting career?”
Leo shrugs. “Yeah? I’m not saying it won’t be risky. It’ll definitely be risky. Very risky-”
“Leo.”
“What I mean is – if you really want to do something without your father’s approval, you have to be willing to take risks. That might mean doing acting secretly on the side, or dropping out entirely. But hey-” he faces away from the ceiling, giving Jason a genuine grin, “you have your friends to back you up.”
A small smile breaks across Jason’s face. “So if my dad disowns me?”
“Come to la Casa de Valdez! We have cola and this new fad called freedom.”
“Freedom,” Jason repeats, almost dreamily. “Sounds nice. Except for the cola part.”
“Oh, right. You’re one of those barbarians who hates soda.”
“Have you had a single glass of water since we were admitted here?”
Leo grins. “Nope.”
“Of course.”
They sit and bicker back and forth for a while, falling into the simple rhythm that had been temporarily lost over the past few blustering days. It’s almost funny, how their conversation veers into domestic territory.
With small bits and scraps of dialogue, Leo can imagine it – waking up to the sound of another person in the house, making breakfast and brewing coffee and complaining over the newspaper that neither of them read. Returning home to the sound of Jason’s voice instead of silence.
Opening night.
Harsh light from the bulbs on the mirror seem to burn his skin. The crown of briar pricks his forehead, and the leaves and thorns on his costume, while pretty, make him itch. Onstage it’s a simple thing to forget, in the heat of the scene, but boxed in his readying room, the air growing hot and sticky, the mumble of the arriving crowd crashing into him like a wave of doom-
Focus. Focus. Focus.
He stares at the sharp planes of the mirror. His blonde hair is purposefully unkempt, but it only serves to heighten his anxiety. Being tidy keeps him together, allows him to hold onto the shreds of confidence he still has. He looks wild, which is perfect for the part of mischievous Puck, but now he feels wild, too, and the panic seeps into his irises, carves lines of stress into his face-
Focus. Focus. Focus.
He wonders if his friends are in the audience. He’s glad for their support, but also terrified, because what if he trips and falls and makes a fool of himself? They all believed in him, and – God, what if one of the lights fell on him while he was monologuing? Sabotage during a soliloquy? And if he was injured, his father would know, and ask how, and-
“Jason?” The doorknob gently turns, and the first thing he sees is a bouquet of roses wrapped in shimmering cellophane, each wine-velvet petal glistening with dew.
Leo’s face comes into view behind them, his curly hair matted with rain, dress shirt sprinkled with droplets. “God, sorry – I was already in the theater, but then left to get some flowers – people get actors flowers, right? Anyways, it was drizzling when I got back, and I’d forgotten my umbrella.” He hands Jason the bouquet, nervously smiling. “Good luck! Not that you need it, but-”
The relief seems to fall onto his shoulders like standing under a gentle stream of water. His nerves unravel. He accepts the roses, almost hugging their stems, and takes a deep whiff. “Thanks, Leo. Although the expression is ‘break a leg.’”
Leo makes a face. “Seriously? That’s jinxing it.”
Jason isn’t sure where he finds the energy to laugh, but it bubbles from his throat like ambrosia, sweet and eternal. He feels delirious, dizzy on his toes. The room is smaller than before, and it makes his heart race. Leo’s laughing now, too, and the sound rushes through his ears, drowning out everything else. All signs of the theater – the noise of the crew and the bustling actors careening down the hall – fade.
Jason can’t find a vase for the roses, so he places them on the vanity table. Leo whistles as he takes in the space. “They’ve got you all set up in here, huh?”
“I guess it’s supposed to make the experience feel Hollywood-like, but it doesn’t feel that way right now,” Jason admits.
Leo’s silent for a moment, eyes drifting toward the mirror. He breaks the quiet with, “say a line.”
Jason arches an eyebrow. “Huh?”
“Any line,” Leo elaborates. “From the play. Maybe that’ll help you get into character.”
It’s something Jason’s tried multiple times before, but with Leo in front of him, it feels strange pretending to be someone else. Still, he sucks in a breath, lowers his guard, and pulls a line from one of the acts to the forefront: “’Captain of our fairy band, Helena is here at hand...and the youth, mistook by me, pleading for a lover’s fee...'”
He closes his eyes. “’Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord, what fools these mortals be!’”
His eyelids open a fraction. His tongue is heavy. Leo’s closer than before, and he looks to be in awe. He’s saying something about it being good, but Jason’s trying to look away from his starry brown eyes. His gaze trails over the silky rose-petal shavings scattered across the floor. They linger by his bare feet, soft as satin.
Heart in throat, he leans against the table, lips sealed. If he opens them again, he might say something silly. Something stupid.
Leo’s talking, still – he's beaming. He’s wearing one of his rare dress shirts, and the collar is sticking out, beckoning.
Focus. Focus. Focus.
There are still droplets scattered across his mocha-colored cheeks, like freckles. He has the urge to reach out and wipe them away with the peak of his thumb, one by one.
Focus. Focus. Focus.
“-Hey, Jason? Are you okay?”
“No,” Jason snaps. It's out of character for him, but he isn’t him at the moment. Or perhaps he is, and this is but another side theater has managed to bring out. “You’re distracting me.”
Silence. Leo comes forward. Jason’s back digs into the wooden edge of the table. “I’m distracting you?”
“I -” Sorry. I’m sorry. But he can’t say it. His friend walks closer, slowly, those eyes boring into him. Leo’s hand twitches, like he’s not sure where to put it. It lingers in the air between them, making a choice. Instead of a friendly shoulder pat or slap on the back, Jason’s fingers are met with the familiar warmth and completion of Leo’s. Their hands interlock, sliding into place as they’ve done so many times before under the cover of darkness.
But this time there’s light, and they can’t escape the bright truth that it brings.
“How, exactly, am I distracting you?” The tone of his voice is low, but cautious. He’s waiting.
Jason swallows. He breathes in and out, and every rush of air is a punch to the heart, but something is fueling all of this, and it’s the wretched organ itself. “This,” he says, brushing aside Leo’s messy hair. Leo’s skin burns hot, and every part of him fidgets. He’s an immortal flame passing as human, trying to dull his own shine. It doesn’t work – has it ever?
“This.” Jason points to the swath of Leo’s neck. “This.” Then his face – eyes and nose and cheeks and lips. Then, he gestures to the single wisp of space between them. “This, too.”
What am I doing? He wonders. But that voice is extinguished as fast as it comes.
Leo blinks, almost mystified. His face is unreadable. “Then I guess I should go.” He leans in. “Should I go?”
A chance. A choice.
Focus. Focus. Focus-
“Damn it all,” Jason growls. He grips Leo’s lapels and yanks him up to meet his lips. The instant it happens, his eyes blow wide – he's kissing Leo. Leo Valdez. And Leo is kissing him back, his own eyes shut, hands reaching to tenderly cup Jason’s face. He imagines the knob twisting, the door opening and some appalled tech worker gasping in surprise.
The thought fills him with bubbly panic, but it only makes him kiss Leo harder; fingers feeling for the pearly buttons on Leo’s shirt, past them to the column of his throat. His heart jostles in his chest when he’s lifted onto the table and pressed against the flat surface of the mirror. Hot, burning bulbs shed peals of light that illuminate the planes of Leo’s face, every individual whorl in his dark hair, the dip of his collarbone.
Their lips fit together, again and again. Leo’s chest heaves; Jason’s limbs tremble as their mouths return a million times for a forbidden sensation. He’s shaking slightly, knocked completely off course, like a tin ballerina wrenched from her music-box pedestal.
His throat is hoarse. The lights sear him, but not more than Leo’s fingers treading down his back, tracing circles at the nape of his neck. He holds him closer, not daring to open his eyes. One leg dangles over the edge of the table, which groans quietly with the added weight. Neither of them hear it, nor care.
“All call!” a voice shouts from the hall, jolting the two out of their reverie.
Leo speaks first. His face is beyond red. “All call?”
Jason manages to pry himself away. “Yeah...it’s - it’s for the volunteers helping with the show. Not us – I mean, me.”
“Right. Um -” Leo steps back. He’s taken up a bashful look now, lips mending themselves into a weak resemblance of a smile. “I should – should I go? So you can...prepare?”
Jason nods. Puck’s dialogue is flying out of his head as they speak, but at the moment he’s too deliriously happy and confused to think much of it. “Okay.”
Leo walks towards the door, adjusting his collar. He’s almost out when he turns around and grins. “Break a leg, Jason.”
“You too – I mean, God-” he curses. Leo’s laughter trails out from the hallway.
He remains on the vanity, contemplating life and everything that just occurred, with a ridiculous smile on his face. He feels like a madman for having done that. He feels like he could do anything, swallow the whole world whole.
(But, for the moment, he really just needs to remember his lines.)
Tickled pink, Leo thinks feverishly as he half runs, half skips to his seat.
He’s never understood the metaphor, but oh, how it makes perfect sense to his melted brain now. All the dim colors are a thousand shades brighter, like he’s taken off a pair of sunglasses for the first time. Each step is taken without gravity. When he bumps into another theatre-goer, who gives him an irritated sneer, he chirps back with, “And good day to you, too, ma’am!”
“Well,” croons Piper as he hops into his chair beside her, still buzzing, “this ought to be good.”
Annabeth folds her playbill, tucking the pamphlet into her coat pocket. Her grey eyes glitter with knowing. “What’s this about?”
Leo can’t even lie properly. He’s fidgeting more than usual, like the kiss wound up his feelings instead of releasing them. “Nothing.”
“In my experience, nothing usually means everything.” Nico materializes out of nowhere, hanging by Annabeth’s shoulder with a smirk. “Does it have to do with Jason?”
“Twenty cents it is.” Piper says.
“Betting without me?” Percy asks, popping between Piper and Annabeth’s headrests. “Then I say fifty cents.”
Annabeth shoves him playfully. “You don’t even know what we’re betting on.”
“Jason, apparently,” he says, “and I believe in him. To an extent.”
“There is no betting,” Leo snaps, trying to hide a wild smile behind the garbled words of the playbill. “And what are you even implying here?”
“Dunno, Leo, maybe the fact that you went to his room with a bouquet of flowers bigger than your head?” Piper asks innocently, batting her eyelashes. Leo smacks her with the pamphlet and she shrieks in delight, hitting him in return with a purse, until they’re both prepared to beat the life out of each other – like the good old days, Piper would have said – until Nico hisses at them to shut up because the show is starting.
And oh, what a show.
Leo will admit that he knows next to nothing about theater or playwrights, beyond the mandatory Shakespeare. Reading was already difficult for him, and the garbled syntax used in older plays didn’t help pique his interest in them. Within their friend group, only Annabeth, Nico, and Hazel had any sort of enthusiasm for theater – Annabeth was an avid reader of Chekov and Arthur Miller, Nico had a clandestine adoration for opera, especially Carmen, and Hazel inhaled anything related to the arts, so she gravitated towards costume and set design.
A part of him is worried that he might not be able to sit through a two-hour play, but when the curtains lift, it dissipates like morning mist.
The actors aren’t just compelling – they seem to wring emotions from the audience, drawing out tears or laughter or sighs like conductors commanding the music of sentiment. Their costumes are bright and exuberant, swirls of silk that stream from their bodices like cream, shoes that shine in the light, faces painted with makeup. Even the elves and sprites in the story don dresses of green foliage and strings of beaded berries. They crouch behind lanky wooden trees and wade in imaginary streams – and here, it dawns on Leo. Why Jason would love a world contained in this theater, where fate was dictated by script, where anything could be made to seem real if one believed in it enough.
Jason, in this world, is Puck. Leo’s already seen his costume, but under the light, it shimmers in a fracture of vivid color. His crop of blonde hair shines like golden straw under his crown of thorns, and when he speaks, his voice revibrates from the stage so that it takes over every other sound. This Jason is reborn, confident and boyishly mischievous in his role, but most importantly, happier than Leo’s ever seen him.
Intermission comes. While many of the audience members trail out into the lobby, his entire row of friends breaks into excited chatter.
Annabeth sums up many of their thoughts in a single sentence: “Jason was amazing.”
Nico nods, grinning abashedly for the first time in a while. “He was so...in his element. The other actors were, too, especially whoever was playing Hermia.”
“Hermia’s my favorite character,” Percy proclaims, then pauses. “After Puck. Why’s his name Puck, anyways?”
Annabeth gives him a long-winded explanation, and Nico excuses himself to look for the restroom. Piper nudges Leo. “No comments? Or are you speechless?”
“Speechless,” he agrees, nodding numbly. He takes a sip from her soda, and his mind brings up Jason’s comment about water. “It was just...wow. He looked so good.”
“Oh, so good, huh?”
“Shut up,” he mumbles through a straw. “I meant, like...he was comfortable, you know? At school he’s always trying to be the best because he has to, but here, he’s doing his best because that’s what he wants. No pressure to be anything other than his best try.”
Piper gazes toward the stage, as though trying to picture Jason behind the thick curtains. “I get what you mean. Whenever we’d meet up, you saw how he was whenever we brought up the play? It’s like he was a whole new him. He had a million words for it, and so much to say about the whole production. I bet he could talk about the way the paint dries on the set and he’d still have a ball.” She smiles wistfully. “He’s passionate about it. It’s always been me with my singing, you with your machines, but he never got invested in anything until then.”
“He was afraid,” Leo says. “Because he thought it would be taken away from him.”
Anger bubbles inside him, but before he can say anything, Nico bursts out of the lobby, his face pale with shock. “Guys!” he gasps out, rushing over to their seats. “Guys, we’ve got a problem.”
“What problem?” Annabeth demands.
“A problem by the name of Jason’s father,” Nico says. “He’s waiting in the lobby.”
“What?” A spear of acid-hot panic slices through Leo. “No, that’s - how? How did he-?”
“That doesn’t matter right now,” Nico interrupts. “He’s asking people if they know Jason, and sooner or later, he’s going to come across one of the members of the production. It’ll all be over if that happens.”
“I’ll go distract him,” Annabeth says immediately. “I’ll tell him Jason’s at school.”
It’s the smartest choice – she's the one most likely to diffuse any concerns Zeus may have, able to smother his doubts with just a few eloquently spoken sentences. But Nico intervenes with, “He doesn’t know you well. He might not trust you.”
“I could go?” Percy offers, but Annabeth shoots him down – Percy's father and Zeus are business conglomerates, and though Percy’s done the latter a myriad of favors, he’s also insulted him just as many times. “Okay, but that also rules out Nico. Piper?”
Piper, with her ability to charm anyone she speaks to, would be another optimal choice. “Maybe...but what if he asks for details? I don’t know Jason’s daily schedule or routine like I used to. If I get caught in a lie...”
“Then I’ll go,” Leo declares. People begin to stream through the double doors, “We don’t have a lot of time. I’ll just go and convince him that Jason’s at school.”
Before any of them can object, he rushes past the swinging doors, entering the spacious foyer where they’d all purchased tickets earlier. His nerves twist themselves together, frayed and sparking. He’s never met Zeus in person, but he’s heard enough of Jason’s quivering voice during those calls to know that he must be the devil incarnate – or the devil’s narcissistic, micromanaging assistant, at the very least.
He certainly looks the part. Standing in the middle of a teeming crowd is a middle-aged man with dark hair, grey streaks running through. His beard is long, unlike the clean-shaven chins Leo sees all around him, and that too has veins of silver running through it, like lightning. He wears a navy suit and cream blue tie, his lapels pressed and every wrinkle ironed out of his shirt’s folds. His black shoes click against the floor, polished to a shine.
Somehow, his orderly fashion only serves to make him appear more obnoxious amongst the casually dressed crowd. He shares no visible traits with Jason other than those eyes – which cut through Leo like a razor. Zeus walks up to him in two quick strides. He wastes no time at all and asks, “do you know Jason Grace?”
Leo sucks in a breath. He has so many things to say to this guy, but feigns impartiality. “Jason? Jason Grace? Yeah, I know him. He’s in my classes at school.”
Zeus studies Leo, and though he isn’t wearing oil-speckled overalls or ripped jeans, he still feels inadequate, or at least more than usual. “Are you a student at Welton?”
“Yeah, I am. Third-year. Why are you looking for Jason?”
“He is here,” Zeus says firmly. “I called tonight. One of the other boys in the dorm picked up – a child named Octavian. He told me Jason is performing in some theater and won’t be available.”
Leo bites his tongue. Goddamn Octavian. He’d never liked Jason much, and had partaken in one Dead Poets meeting and declared it was ‘impudent’ before returning to rot in his dorm. While he was charismatic, he tended to ignore the suggestions of others and valued status above all else. Jason was willing to interact with him, kind as he was, and of course Octavian would repay that kindness by stabbing Jason in the back. Typical.
“Jason isn’t here. Last I saw him, he was studying in his dorm room. I asked if he wanted to come to this performance with me, but he said he had homework to finish.”
“And why would Octavian lie, then?”
You trust some random kid over your own son? “Octavian might have overheard us talking and thought Jason was going to go.”
Zeus ponders this. Leo’s a decent liar - it’s a shield, the way humor is, and he understands the craft of it. But all lies have some flaw with which they can be exposed, and he can only hope that Zeus is too narrow-minded to catch it. He can question and question, but if he’s only greeted with logical responses, he has to leave, right?
The thundering man in front of him tries a different approach. “Who are you?”
“Leo Valdez,” he says, trying for a casual smile. “I’m Jason’s friend and roommate.”
If this fact is supposed to make Jason’s father trust him, it does the exact opposite. He scowls. “Is that so? Why should I believe anything you say, then?”
He clenches his jaw tight. “Sir?”
“You are Jason’s friend. You would be inclined to lie for him.” Zeus glares at him with those sharp eyes. He stands straight as a needle, with the imposing nature of an obelisk, and Leo feels about as tall as a blade of crumpled grass in his presence. He's dealt with people like this, either in the streets or in the foster homes or in school. People who used their build and their menace to hide their brittle inner framework.
Zeus is no different, except that he isn’t someone who can forget his anger with a little momentary charm. Leo’s seen the far reaches of his influence on Jason, who always returns from visits shriveled up, like a wilted flower. How he would smile, then stop, as though he were worried someone were watching him. The dull mornings spent trimming his hair and adjusting his tie a million times.
Leo has so many things to say to Zeus – too many. But not a single thing would really change him. He’s seen enough to know that some people aren’t worth exerting the effort on, because change is a gradual thing, and Zeus talks as though he’s an eternal, permanent, unchangeable person.
Maybe there is some perfect combination of words Leo could say that would miraculously save the day, but Zeus is beyond saving. Jason, on the other hand, Leo can help. He wants to preserve that happiness, at least for the night. He wants that smile to stay, blissful and wide, without shrinking from fear.
“Sir,” he says, “Jason is a friend of mine, and it’s exactly because he’s my friend that I’m telling you the truth. I want him to succeed. I don’t want him to waste time on anything that isn’t important to him.”
The perfect lie – something that is entirely true.
Zeus’s thick eyebrows furrow. “And he is at the dorm?”
“Studying for our history test next week. I can let him know that you came?”
“I will call him later.” Zeus says firmly. He pivots, heading towards the exit. Then - “Leo. I would implore you not to distract my son. There is nothing more important than his future.”
At his retreating back, Leo can only grin. Jason’s words come to mind: You’re distracting me.
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that, sir.” He smiles. “I only have his best interests in mind.”
Jason can’t think of anything more beautiful than a curtain call – on the stage, hot lights burning the experience into memory, holding hands with a grinning Hermia on his left and Titania on his right, cheers flooding his ears for something he feels he’s earned.
His friends engulf him later on, and the warmth of their winter coats and berets squeeze him with cushy softness, like he’s inside a marshmallow. They all crowd into his room, with the wooden vanity and the tight walls and the bouquet of red roses, which Piper takes care to point out a grand total of three times. They all look happy and, strangely, relieved when they pour out of the theater and pile into Annabeth’s car for milkshakes.
Jason clutches the bouquet of roses the whole way there. The night feels hazy, like a dream - the outlines of his friends in their winterwear, laughing and shoving each other into snow drift; the warm diner they stumble upon, its neon lights glowing cherry-red reflections against their cold faces; six tall glasses topped with cream and caramel, his friends laughing around their straws.
Later, Annabeth and Percy excuse themselves to retreat to the car, Piper strikes up a conversation with a flustered waitress, and Nico goes across the street to the pharmacy, chatting outside with a blonde-haired boy in scrubs.
In the dimly lit booth, Leo prattles on about the show, about how radiant everyone looked – and Jason’s about as red as the bright scarlet upholstery he sits on. When Leo’s expression grows downcast, though, his face shifts into concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Wrong?” Leo babbles. “Nothing, I just – you know, isn’t it strange we all ordered milkshakes during winter-?”
“Leo,” Jason says softly.
The other boy sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I didn’t want to ruin anything with...”
His heart skips a beat. “Bad news?”
“What? No, but...we did dodge a bullet there.”
Jason’s fingers dig into the sides of his glass. “What do you mean?”
“Your father,” Leo says gently. “He showed up during intermission, demanding to know where you were at. Apparently, he’d called and Octavian had answered, telling him where you were.”
Jason clenches his jaw. An unexpected wave of anger crashes into him, overwhelming even his usual fear or anxiety. His father was so quick to drop everything in regards to Jason’s misbehaving, if only to yank his mule of a son back onto the right path. He would drive miles to pick through people until he found the boy he hated to call son. He would do everything except the right thing.
Octavian selling him out isn’t nearly as surprising, but the fact that his father hadn’t stormed in mid-performance is. “Then...what happened?”
“I just went out and talked to him,” Leo says with a shrug. “Told him you were studying. He left after that.”
“You-” Jason blinks owlishly. “You went out and talked to him?”
“I had to, or else he would disrupt the show.” He winks. “And the show must go on, right? Please tell me that’s right.”
Jason grins, wobbly and unsure. “That’s right. And...thank you. I’m sorry you had to deal with him.”
Leo’s quiet for a minute, staring out at the empty road. “You don’t have to say thank you. I’m just doing what any friend would do. Honestly, I thought I would just start screaming in front of him, asshole that he is. Maybe I’ll send him a passive-aggressive letter.” He reaches across the table, tentative. Their hands meet. “Think I’d get away with it?”
“I think you would,” he murmurs. “Thanks anyway. He’s not an easy person to talk to.”
“Understatement.” A thumb brushes over his palm. “We can quit talking about him now, if you want.”
A small smile. “Okay.” A pause, then, “Can we talk about you distracting me?”
Leo lifts an eyebrow. “Oh?” His face is noticeably red, but he maintains an inkling of charisma, watered down like wine. It’s still perfectly heady.
“I thought you...had something with Calypso.” His voice is quiet.
“I thought I did, too.” Leo traces circles into his open hand, like coins. “In the end, it wasn't really what I thought it was, but...I'm kind of glad it happened. I found something better because of it.”
His breath catches. “I’m better?”
“And that’s the funniest thing about you,” Leo says. “You don’t realize how cool you are, do you?”
“Cool-” he stammers. “I could say the same about you.”
“Okay, Superman.”
“Superman has black hair,” Jason protests. It’s a weak thing to say, but he’s feeling particularly fragile right now, unlike the hero with nerves of steel. “And I’m serious – you talked to my dad. That’s heroic enough for me.”
“It wasn’t heroic. Anyone would have done it.”
“But you did.”
Another blanket of quietness stretches over them. Annabeth and Percy’s laughter drifts from the car. Piper’s exchanged numbers with the waitress. Nico has disappeared into the empty pharmacy with the other boy. And here they sit, hands locked across the table, gazes averted.
“Jason?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay with me distracting you again?”
Jason’s throat is dry when Leo slides into the seat next to him. The roses scatter across the floor. They’re technically in public, but the only ones in the diner are Piper and the waitress, who’s already packing away her purse. Their booth is in the corner, shrouded with darkness, light licking at the edge of the table. It must be ten by now.
They’ll have to sneak into the dorm, he thinks, but the thought evaporates when Leo leans in.
“Is this okay?” he asks. He’s only ever cautious here, when he jumps into trouble everywhere else.
Jason shoots him a wry smile and cups his face, their lips brushing against one another. “Not even close.” And he kisses him again.
Annabeth checks the clock for the hundredth time. “He should’ve been here by now.”
“’Beth,” Percy says, placing a hand on her shoulder, “it’s only a minute.”
“Still!” she mumbles into her gloved hands. “He’s more punctual than that.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Piper reassures, offering her a stick of gum, which she takes gratefully. Piper sticks out her pack at Leo. “Want some, Leo?”
Leo declines. He’s leaning against the counter of the pharmacy. Everyone’s crowded into one of its separate rooms, partly to get away from spring’s incessant rainstorms, partly because the theater is right across, and Jason’s audition is about to end.
Will pops in, shucking off his lab coat and settling down by Nico with a sigh. “Not here.”
Nico bites his lip. “You guys don’t think-”
“Nope,” says Annabeth. “I’ve triple-checked.”
“She did,” Percy nods sagely. “I was there.”
Leo has faith in them, but anxiety is a fickle thing. They’d planned this in advance when Leo noticed Jason had taken interest in another show for the same theater later that year. None of them had wanted a repeat of last time, and there were only two real options: tell Zeus about the shows on the off-chance he won’t pull Jason out of school and ship him to a recluse academy in Nowhere Land, or exhaust every effort possible to make sure he doesn’t find out at all.
Naturally, they all went with the second one. Annabeth’s father, a professor with a fondness for planes, checked airline flights for that day to see if any were coming in from the city where Zeus’s manor was located. Percy called his father to ask in a completely, utterly subtle manner: “You wouldn’t know anything about that business tycoon Zeus’s schedule, would you?”
Nico pulled every connection he had and confirmed - with the help of a suspicious note (delivered to him by a man who pulled up in a black car, rolled down the window, handed him the paper and drove away) - that Zeus would in fact be busy that day.
It’s certainly risky, but when Jason bursts through the door, everyone leaps to their feet with nothing less than anticipation.
“Well?” Piper asks. The world is frozen for a moment in time, anxiousness hanging in the air.
“I got the part!” Jason shouts, beaming as he tosses his hands in the air. A flyer tumbles to the floor, but everyone’s too busy cheering to care much, and when Jason grabs Leo for a ferocious hug, they cheer even louder.
Nico picks up the flyer and lets out an amused huff. “Romeo and Juliet, huh?”
“A classic,” Annabeth says, smiling wide. “And Mercutio’s the best character.”
Nico shrugs. “I don’t know, I always found Juliet’s Nurse endearing.”
Annabeth gawks. “The nurse?”
“She was funny.”
“Second that,” Percy agrees. He claps Jason on the back. “But congrats, man! You’ve been practicing forever. Although...didn’t you say you wanted to try for Romeo?”
Jason shrugs. “Mercutio’s lines just appealed to me more.”
“Translation,” Piper chimes in, “’I would have had to kiss the girl playing Juliet.’”
“Piper.”
“Jason,” she teases, looping her arms around both Jason and Leo’s necks. “I will always make fun of you for this, guys. Don’t forget it.”
“I’m hilarious, we know,” Leo trills. “Ooh, Jase, you get to say that one line that goes, ‘O Romeo, that she were, an open-arse-’”
Jason punches him lightly on the shoulder, and he dissolves into laughter. Annabeth rolls her eyes. “What an authentic British accent.”
Nico squints. “Aren’t the characters Italian?”
“Oh, then-”
“Please don’t do an Italian accent. Your British one is almost enough to make me patriotic.”
Will hides a snort behind a cupped hand. His eyes wander towards the clock again, and he taps its glass face. “Alright, guys, we’ve got to get out of here. I’m not allowed to have anyone in here after closing time-”
“Except Nico,” Percy points out.
Will takes the jab with grace and a matching grin. “-Except Nico. Is there anywhere you’d rather go, or-”
“There’s a great diner around here,” Piper says, lighting up with the thought of it. “The food is great-”
“She means the waitress is great,” Annabeth puts in. Piper shoots her a look, but the blonde only bats her eyelashes innocently. “The milkshakes are the best, and they’ve got a jukebox with the latest hits, and a guitar that you can-”
“Oh no,” Nico groans. “You’ve done it now.”
“A guitar?” Will brightens up. “Then we’ve got to go.”
They begin trailing out of the pharmacy, outside where the air smells of petrichor and mist curls around their legs. Leo fumbles with his scarf until Jason fixes it for him. He looks almost remorseful as he does, his gloved fingers brushing against Leo’s neck. “Jase? You good? Should I have bought flowers?”Jason shakes his head. “I’m just thinking about...you know.”
Leo nods, leaning in closer, their shoulders touching. “Hey - we’ve triple checked. Annabeth probably has backup plans for her backup plans. It’ll be okay.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about – what if you guys get in trouble?”
Leo gives him a jaunty smile. “I am trouble.”
Jason laughs, his stiff shoulders melting like wax, and it’s worth every bit of trouble they could get.