Chapter Text
Jeonghan was, by all accounts, a menace.
Not in the knife-wielding, prophecy-breaking, monster-baiting sense (though he could do all of that if he wanted). No, Jeonghan’s brand of chaos was quieter. Silkier. More… intentional.
He didn’t destroy things by force. He just tilted his head and said, “Are you sure that’s what you want?”—and let the destruction unfold itself.
Today, he was in his favorite place: the orchard just outside the Aphrodite cabin, stretched beneath a cherry tree in a robe that absolutely violated the camp’s “appropriate attire” rule. The sunlight kissed his skin. His hair looked like it had been styled by dryads. A stolen Hephaestus blade spun lazily between his fingers.
Across the lawn, Seungcheol was sparring with a dummy that had definitely already been dead for twenty minutes. Lightning crackled off his fingertips every few swings.
“Rule one,” Jeonghan said aloud, to no one in particular, “if you’re going to date someone that dangerous, make sure you’re prettier than them.”
Seungcheol glanced up. “You say that like it’s a challenge.”
“It’s not,” Jeonghan replied sweetly. “It’s just a fact.”
⸻
Jihoon appeared beside him with the grace of someone who had been tricked into this conversation one too many times.
“I was told there was peach tea here,” Jihoon said flatly.
Jeonghan handed him a cup. “There is. It’s laced with unsolicited advice.”
Jihoon sipped it anyway. “Figures.”
They watched Soonyoung jog past in the distance, shirtless, laughing, probably about to trip over his own sword.
Jeonghan didn’t even blink. “So how’s your chaotic bisexual disaster today?”
Jihoon’s eye twitched. “He’s not—”
“Don’t lie to me. I’m divinely gifted at spotting yearning. You stare at him like he’s a storm and you’re mad it’s not forecasted.”
Jihoon sighed into his tea. “I hate you.”
“No, you hate how accurate I am.”
⸻
Seungcheol approached, sweating and glowing like a sun god.
“Are you gossiping about the kids again?” he asked, wiping his face with the edge of Jeonghan’s robe.
Jeonghan swatted him half-heartedly. “They’re not kids. They just emotionally repressed themselves into a situationship.”
Jihoon bristled. “We’re not in a situationship.”
“Aw,” Jeonghan said. “He thinks they’re dating.”
Seungcheol grinned. “He made you tea, didn’t he?”
Jihoon: “…”
Jeonghan and Seungcheol, in perfect harmony: “You’re dating.”
⸻
“You know,” Jeonghan said, sitting up slightly, “when Aphrodite claimed me, it wasn’t because I liked flowers or poetry or flirting.”
Jihoon raised an eyebrow. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Jeonghan smiled slowly. “She claimed me because I can look at people, and see what they’re afraid to want. And then I ask them why they’re so afraid of getting it.”
Jihoon looked away.
Soonyoung’s laughter carried from somewhere down by the lake.
Jeonghan didn’t press.
“You don’t have to say it out loud,” he said gently. “Just stop acting like you’re not already his.”
Jihoon stood. “You’re dangerous.”
Jeonghan leaned back in the grass, closing his eyes. “Love always is.”
Soonyoung had moved in.
Not officially. Not in the “he brought clothes or made a dramatic speech” kind of way.
No—he just appeared more and more often. First it was a “quick nap” in the empty bunk below Jihoon’s. Then it was snacks stored under said bunk. Then a bag of spare shirts. Then boots. Then, somehow, a training sword wrapped in a towel stuffed under the mattress.
By week two, Jihoon walked into his cabin and paused mid-step.
Soonyoung was lying flat on the bottom bunk, one leg propped up on the wall, humming to himself while balancing a piece of celery on his nose. There was a sock on the curtain rod. A hoodie hanging off the back of Jihoon’s chair. A grapefruit in the middle of the floor.
Jihoon stared.
Then slowly turned his head to the bookshelf.
The books were still aligned by subject and author… but a sketch of Soonyoung—shirtless, flexing, and labeled “Hot but dumb, DO NOT FEED”—was taped to the side.
Jihoon inhaled through his nose. “Soonyoung.”
“Jihoon.”
“This isn’t a room anymore.”
“Correct.”
“It’s an archaeological site.”
Soonyoung propped himself up on one elbow, grinning. “I call it ambiance. Lived-in. Charming. Slightly dangerous.”
“You put a wet towel on my scrolls.”
“They needed hydration.”
Jihoon’s voice dropped several degrees. “I am going to stab you with your own fork.”
“Is that flirting?”
“No!”
⸻
The door creaked open with dramatic timing. Jeonghan strolled in like he’d been summoned by pure tension. He was wearing loose camp pants, no shoes, and an Aphrodite cabin t-shirt cut perfectly off the shoulder.
“You two are louder than Seungcheol when he fake-snores to get out of latrine duty,” he announced.
A beat later, Seungcheol’s head poked through the doorway. “Fake?”
“You snore like a dying warhorse,” Jeonghan said sweetly. “Affectionately.”
Jihoon threw a pillow.
It hit Soonyoung in the face.
There was no regret in Jihoon’s eyes.
⸻
Jeonghan crossed to Jihoon’s desk and casually began rearranging his pencils by aesthetic instead of function.
“So,” he said, in the tone of someone who’d already taken mental screenshots of this disaster, “has he officially moved in yet?”
“No,” Jihoon said.
“Yes,” Soonyoung said, at the exact same time.
Jihoon glared at him.
Soonyoung rolled over, kicked his feet up, and said, “I live here spiritually. Physically. Emotionally.”
“You live here illegally.”
“You’ve never told me to leave.”
Jihoon opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Jeonghan gasped. “Oh my gods, this is real. He likes it. He’s letting the disaster stay.”
Seungcheol wandered in fully, now munching on a granola bar. “This feels personal. Should we go?”
“No,” Jeonghan said. “This is the most fun I’ve had since I sabotaged the Aphrodite cabin’s drama night.”
⸻
The argument slowed, as they always did. Jihoon stood with his hands on his hips, eyes scanning the mess of Soonyoung’s presence. The hoodie, the weapons, the snack wrappers. The sword hanging off the bedpost like it belonged there.
It didn’t belong.
But… it fit.
Like Soonyoung always did. Even when Jihoon didn’t want him to.
He turned back around, muttered, “At least put your crap in one pile,” and started clearing off a shelf.
Soonyoung blinked. Sat up. “Are you making room for my stuff?”
“No. I’m reorganizing.”
“So… room.”
Jihoon didn’t respond.
Jeonghan squealed and high-fived himself. “Domestic!”
⸻
Later That Night
Jihoon climbed up to the top bunk late, exhausted from a full day of pretending he wasn’t in love.
Below him, Soonyoung was already asleep—probably. Maybe.
A few minutes passed.
Then:
“Hey,” Soonyoung said, voice soft. “Thanks for letting me stay.”
Jihoon stared up at the ceiling.
Then muttered, “Shut up.”
There was a pause.
Then the faintest laugh. “Goodnight, Jihoon.”
“Goodnight.”
…and maybe, very softly, after a beat—
“Don’t drool on my pillow.”
Camp Capture the Flag had rules. Unspoken ones.
1. No actual maiming unless pre-approved by Chiron.
2. No using Pegasus for air support. (Again.)
3. No stealing from the Aphrodite cabin mid-match unless you wanted glitter-based revenge for a month.
4. And most importantly: never let Jeonghan be the referee.
So naturally, he was absolutely the referee this round.
Standing on a tree stump like a war goddess with perfect cheekbones, Jeonghan twirled a whistle around his finger and announced, “Tonight’s match comes with a bonus rule: if anyone catches feelings, it’s an automatic win for me personally.”
Seungcheol—wearing Zeus-blue war paint and already tired—called from the sidelines, “Just say you want to watch them flirt while pretending to fight.”
“Oh, I always want chaos,” Jeonghan purred.
Soonyoung blew Jihoon a kiss across the field.
Jihoon threw a dagger.
It embedded in the tree two inches from Soonyoung’s head.
“I love it when you play hard to get,” Soonyoung shouted.
⸻
The forest exploded with motion—teams diving into the trees, scouts sprinting ahead, strategy unfolding in layers.
Jihoon, naturally, had built a defense system that would make Athena weep with joy. Tripwires. Pressure-sensitive leaves. A fog trap powered by modified potion smoke.
Soonyoung tripped four of them.
On purpose.
“Oops,” he said, tangled in netting, upside down from a tree branch, hair full of twigs. “Guess I’m caught.”
Jihoon appeared from the mist, dagger pressed to Soonyoung’s neck.
“Do you try to lose limbs?” he hissed.
“I try to make you come find me,” Soonyoung said brightly.
Jihoon cut him down.
Then shoved him behind a boulder, yanked a first-aid kit from his pack (not that he carried it just for Soonyoung, obviously), and started wrapping his wrist like he hadn’t just designed this entire battlefield.
“You’re the worst,” Jihoon muttered, taping gauze too tightly on purpose.
“You’re amazing when you’re mad,” Soonyoung whispered.
Jihoon flushed. “This is why you keep getting injured, isn’t it?”
“I like the attention.”
Jihoon taped his mouth shut with surgical tape. Lovingly.
Soonyoung just wiggled his eyebrows.
⸻
Meanwhile, in the Trees
Jeonghan sat on a branch above them, sipping from a glitter-rimmed flask. “I give them twelve minutes before one of them does something unspeakably romantic.”
Seungcheol, crouched beside him like Zeus with a clipboard, grunted. “They’re literally supposed to be opponents.”
“Babe,” Jeonghan said, kicking his legs idly, “you shocked me mid-battle once and said it was flirting.”
“I was aiming for the manticore.”
“You aimed beautifully.”
⸻
Jihoon spotted the flag—his team’s target—glinting from a low branch guarded by two Hermes campers and a child of Demeter holding what suspiciously looked like sentient vines.
He pulled Soonyoung down into the brush.
“We flank,” Jihoon whispered. “You distract left, I sweep right.”
Soonyoung nodded. “Got it.”
And then he kissed Jihoon full on the mouth.
Fast. Fierce. Slightly clumsy. Dirt-streaked hands tangled in Jihoon’s collar. No warning.
Jihoon froze.
Soonyoung pulled back and grinned. “Inspiration.”
Jihoon stared at him. Then hissed, “What the hell was that?”
“A pre-battle morale boost.”
Jihoon’s voice was strained. “You’re an idiot.”
But when they charged, they moved like a single thought.
Soonyoung took a hit to the ribs, cackling like it tickled. Jihoon snuck past, grabbed the flag, and blew a smoke bomb at their feet.
They almost made it out clean.
Except for Soonyoung’s dramatic tumble into a puddle and Jihoon dragging him out by the collar, muttering about how long medical bandages last if you don’t keep re-injuring yourself like a romantic dumbass.
⸻
They lost.
On a technicality. Jihoon stepped out of bounds during Soonyoung’s third dramatic swoon.
Jeonghan, holding both flags and a bouquet of wildflowers, declared himself the winner.
“By divine rule of Aphrodite: they kissed mid-mission. I win. Everyone else? Losers.”
Soonyoung saluted him. Jihoon sulked.
Jeonghan looked smug for three hours.
⸻
Back in the Athena cabin, Jihoon carefully peeled the tape off Soonyoung’s mouth.
“That was aggressive,” Jihoon said quietly.
“Needed you to know,” Soonyoung said.
Jihoon folded the tape into a neat square.
“You scare the crap out of me.”
“I know.”
“You make me want to drop every plan I’ve ever made.”
“I hope you don’t.”
Jihoon looked up. “Why not?”
Soonyoung leaned in. “Because then I’d have to make them. And I like it better when you lead.”
Jihoon stared at him. Then said, softly: “We lost the game.”
Soonyoung grinned.
“But we’re winning, right?”
The official “lights out” at Camp Half-Blood was more of a suggestion than a rule—especially in the summer, when the air was soft and thick with woodsmoke and stars.
The fire pit sat at the edge of camp, flickering gently, still alive hours after dinner had ended. A few logs burned low, more ember than flame now, crackling lazily in the hush of night.
Jihoon sat close to the edge of the stone ring, knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped loosely around them. His chin rested on his sleeve. His eyes tracked the sparks that floated into the sky, one by one, before vanishing.
Soonyoung was beside him. Not speaking. Just there.
His head leaned lightly against Jihoon’s shoulder, like it belonged there. Like he’d always been leaning toward this point—quiet, unguarded, warm.
They weren’t talking, but the silence was full of things unsaid.
Jihoon’s mind was noisy. His body wasn’t. That was progress.
⸻
On the other side of the pit, Jeonghan was curled into Seungcheol’s lap, wrapped like a burrito in a blanket clearly stolen from the Hermes cabin—it was covered in doodled hearts and the phrase “NOT YOURS” in bold red letters.
Jeonghan, naturally, was smugly using it as a pillow.
He was humming softly, some old lullaby in Ancient Greek, the notes curling into the smoke like silk.
Seungcheol’s arms were around his waist, one hand idly combing through Jeonghan’s hair. His eyes were half-closed, not asleep but close.
The only light came from the coals. Orange. Flickering. Safe.
“You know,” Jeonghan said, breaking the quiet with a voice like velvet, “watching you two is exhausting.”
Jihoon didn’t even look over. “Then look away.”
“Can’t,” Jeonghan said breezily. “It’s like watching a slow-burn tragedy directed by two people who think eye contact is a confession.”
Soonyoung smirked without opening his eyes. “We do kiss.”
“Not enough,” Jeonghan shot back. “There’s enough tension between you to power the Apollo cabin’s lights for a month.”
“I thought Aphrodite kids weren’t supposed to bully romance,” Jihoon muttered.
“Sweetheart,” Jeonghan purred, “Aphrodite invented bullying romance. Ever heard of Helen of Troy?”
Seungcheol spoke for the first time in ten minutes. “Let them be.”
Jeonghan tilted his head up, mock-offended. “I’m not stopping them. I’m narrating. There’s a difference.”
⸻
Jihoon felt Soonyoung shift beside him—just slightly. A shift of weight. A breath in. Then a hand reached across the space between them under the blanket. Not demanding. Not loud.
Just… there.
Fingers touched his. Then laced.
Jihoon froze, just for a second.
Then let it happen.
Soonyoung leaned closer, head resting fully against Jihoon’s shoulder now. Not asleep. Just quiet. Like this was enough.
Jihoon glanced down at their joined hands.
He didn’t say anything.
But he didn’t let go.
⸻
Across the fire, Jeonghan exhaled dramatically. “See, that was cute. Now imagine if they did that in public. Like a performance. Preferably with dramatic lighting and maybe a wind machine.”
Jihoon didn’t bother responding this time.
Soonyoung grinned. “What if we hold hands during the next capture the flag game?”
Jeonghan made a delighted sound. “I would die.”
“Perfect,” Jihoon muttered. “You’d shut up for once.”
“Jeonghan never shuts up,” Seungcheol said, leaning back against the log and pulling the blanket tighter around them both. “That’s part of the package.”
“And yet you still picked me,” Jeonghan said, smug and sleepy.
“I always will.”
That shut everyone up for a moment.
Even Jihoon had to admit… that was good.
⸻
Eventually, Seungcheol dozed off. Jeonghan did too, tucked beneath his chin, snoring just slightly and claiming it was part of a beauty ritual.
Soonyoung’s eyes were still open, watching the coals. His fingers still wrapped around Jihoon’s.
“You ever think we’d get here?” he asked, voice low, only for Jihoon to hear.
“No,” Jihoon admitted.
“Same.”
Jihoon turned his head, rested his cheek lightly on top of Soonyoung’s.
“You scared?”
“Of what?”
“This. Peace. Us.”
Soonyoung was quiet.
Then: “A little. But it’s the good kind.”
Jihoon closed his eyes.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “Me too.”
⸻
It started with an argument.
Not a real one—just the usual kind of low-stakes, high-tension bickering that Jihoon and Soonyoung somehow turned into a love language.
“I’m just saying you didn’t have to jump off the climbing wall,” Jihoon muttered, arms crossed, glaring from the corner of his bunk. “It was a training exercise, not a dare from Ares cabin.”
“I was proving a point,” Soonyoung said, shirt rumpled, hair still wind-tangled. “The point being: I’m cool.”
“You dislocated your shoulder.”
“It looked awesome.”
“You’re a moron.”
Soonyoung just smiled, easy and bright. “But I’m your moron.”
Jihoon didn’t respond.
He didn’t have a comeback for that one.
⸻
The silence stretched. Warm. Charged.
Soonyoung shifted closer. They were sitting on Jihoon’s bunk now, legs almost touching.
“You’re not mad,” Soonyoung said softly.
“I was.”
“But you’re not now.”
Jihoon glanced up. “Stop talking.”
Soonyoung smirked. “Then make me.”
Jihoon kissed him.
⸻
It wasn’t neat.
It was sudden—like a match flaring to life after weeks of friction. One hand gripping Soonyoung’s hoodie, the other in his hair, dragging him closer with a kind of frustrated desperation.
Soonyoung made a sound low in his throat—surprised but not complaining. He kissed back harder, hands sliding around Jihoon’s waist, thumbs pressing into his back like he couldn’t get close enough fast enough.
Jihoon pulled him in until Soonyoung was almost in his lap, and neither of them seemed interested in stopping.
Soonyoung broke away first, gasping against Jihoon’s neck, voice ragged. “You were definitely mad.”
“Still am,” Jihoon murmured, kissing down his jaw. “But I’m prioritizing.”
Soonyoung laughed, and then Jihoon kissed him again just to shut him up.
⸻
It kept going.
Slow. Then messy. Then slow again.
A dozen kisses, open-mouthed and lingering, like they were making up for every moment they’d pretended they didn’t want this. Hands under shirts. Jihoon’s fingers tangled in Soonyoung’s hair, Soonyoung kissing like Jihoon was oxygen and he’d been holding his breath since they met.
Eventually, Jihoon pulled back, chest heaving, lips red.
“You’re still a dumbass,” he said.
Soonyoung’s grin was lopsided and dazed. “Yeah, but I’m your reward for not murdering anyone today.”
“Unconfirmed.”
⸻
“Finally.”
Both boys jumped, jerking apart just enough to see Jeonghan standing in the doorway, arms folded, expression glowing with self-satisfaction.
“I. Told. You,” he said smugly. “All it took was a little danger, some brooding, and sexual tension that made the Hermes cabin start a betting pool.”
“Jeonghan—”
“I’m not staying!” he chirped. “I just came to say I told you so.”
Then he shut the door.
Silence.
Soonyoung leaned back on his elbows, breath still a little fast. “He’s gonna make this everyone’s problem, isn’t he?”
Jihoon sighed. “Absolutely.”
Soonyoung smirked. “Still worth it?”
Jihoon didn’t answer.
He just pulled Soonyoung in again—and kissed him like he’d made up his damn mind.