Archive of Our Own ^beta

A dead boy slides himself off the back of his metal dragon and smiles.

He seems just as surprised as the rest of them are. Dark eyes taking in the sight of the camp, and then their faces, before he smiles - wobbly and nervous and awkward, but relieved. Happy. It's been so long since Frank's seen that smile.

"Hey, guys. Miss me?"

As always, it's Frank that moves first.

It takes him a moment to realise that Leo's running toward him too. When they crash into each other, Frank loops his arms around Leo and hoists him in the air, squeezing him so tight he thinks he can feel Leo's ribs crack beneath his embrace.

I thought you were dead, he thinks. And he says it.

"Nothing can keep Leo Valdez down," Leo says, looking completely serious, before he cracks a smug grin and tucks his chin into the crook of Frank's neck. "I told you it would work, didn't I? You don't have any faith in me?"

His eyes hurt. Belatedly Frank realises it's because he's crying, tears tracking down his red cheeks as Leo squeezes him back as tight as he can. Then he laughs and pulls away. "Gonna put me down any time soon, big guy?"

"Oh." He sets Leo down on the ground. The warmth wrapped around him seemed to ebb away as Leo brushed himself off, leaving Frank to feel cold all over. Come back , he wants to say, but he thinks he's already embarrassed himself enough. "I didn't miss you, by the way. I knew you would come back."

Something in Leo's eyes changes, and this time, it's his turn to say, "oh." His grin turns into something more gentle, almost pained, and it makes Frank want to wrap his arms around Leo again (this time without letting go, maybe), but Hazel beats him to it.

She swings Leo around effortlessly. Frank can't tell whether she's laughing or crying - perhaps some weird combination of both. "You're back," she wheezes out, "you're back! You idiot! I can't believe you really did it." 

Finally, she puts Leo down, still smiling despite the unsteadiness in his feet and the dizziness apparent on his face. "It's nice to see you again, old lady."

"I'm not that old! Respect your elders!"

"Okay, ma'am." He salutes before stumbling, still dizzy from Hazel's rampant twirling. He puts his hand on Frank's arm to steady himself, and Frank is ashamed to admit that he immediately winds his other arm around Leo's, reveling in the feeling of skin on skin. Was Leo always this nice to touch? 

If death is cold, Frank thinks (and he knows this from experience), then maybe coming back to life is warm. 

After being accosted by Reyna for five minutes - half of it taken up by scolding and the other half by hugging - Leo grins and butts his head against Frank’s shoulder. “Hey,” he says, voice playful but still gentle, “didn’t y’all promise to show me around when I came back? You didn’t forget, did you?”

Frank is pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to forget even if he tried to. “Oh, yeah,” he says. “But we should get you settled in first. There are a few open barracks, if that’s okay with you. How long are you staying here? Have you been to Camp Half-Blood? Do the others know that y -”

“Slow down on the questions, man, it’s my job to be the one who talks a lot.” Leo laughs. His voice is a little hoarse, but it still sounds like exactly how Frank remembers it. He wonders whether Leo has changed at all. “I’ve been to Camp, don’t worry. Everyone knows. And I don’t know how long I’m staying. As long as I want, I guess? Okay?”

His fingers tap a rhythm onto Frank’s arm. It feels oddly familiar, and so undoubtedly Leo , even if it’s just one action. “Okay,” Frank says. “Let’s get you to a stay, then.”

Hazel walks by Leo’s other side as they walk, asking him questions about what happened to him in the last year. Reyna walked alongside Hazel, a small smile on her face, and Leo looks happy. Truly happy, in a way that he barely was on the Argo II, in a way that Frank barely ever saw. It occurs to him that the only time he ever saw Leo that happy was when he died.

Somewhere along the way, Leo’s arms find their way around Frank’s left, winding around like a rope. He doesn’t skip over his words, doesn’t even turn to glance up at Frank - but the warmth practically radiating off his skin is a message in itself.

Yeah, Frank thinks, we’re gonna be okay.

Even if the world’s tried its damndest to say otherwise, he knows it for a fact. And - well - if there’s one thing about Leo Valdez that’s an absolute fact, it’s that he’s never let the impossible stop him.

The second Hannibal slammed him against the wall, Leo had taken it as a challenge.

"Alright, buddy," Leo said, hands on his hips, staring down Hannibal with a fiery passion in his eyes that Frank hadn't seen in a long time. He was glad it was directed at an elephant now, vividly remembering the last time he'd seen that kind of emotion in Leo's face, how it had been focused directly on Frank himself. It had made him nervous in ways he didn't even know he could be nervous. "You're getting this cleaning whether you want it or not!"

In return, Hannibal trumpeted. He stomped the ground, the feeling vibrating through Frank's bones. Leo, despite being considerably smaller and a lot more shaken, did not back down. "Nuh-uh! This is for your own good, asshole!"

"Yeah, call him an asshole." Frank rolled his eyes, unable to help the smile growing on his face. "I'm sure that'll make him very obedient." 

"It's tough love, Zhang!" Leo yelled, louder than was probably necessary. Frank plugged his ears, staring with a flat expression at Leo, who rolled his eyes and bent down to pick up the hose. Detecting the movement, Hannibal shook his head almost as if he were in distress, ears flopping around. "Okay, turn it on."

Frank sighed. The demigod that had been saddled with elephant-cleaning duty had needed to back out because of a "family emergency" (one that Frank wasn't entirely sure was real). He had felt restless, so he had offered to do it himself, only for Leo to tag along and declare that he wanted to try cleaning Hannibal. His first attempt had ended in him being on the receiving end of one of Hannibal's trunk lashes, and, well, the rest was history.

So now he was stuck exasperatedly watching Leo try to wrangle the elephant into submission. He spun the sillcock, and a second later, water spurted out of the hose, directly into Hannibal's eyes.

The ensuing sound was Hannibal's loudest yet, and Frank was glad he had managed to clap his hands over his ears again in time. He swatted Leo with his trunk again, but this time, Leo dodged to the right, angling the water jet at Hannibal's body. 

Leo kept hopping around like an annoying fly, deftly dodging all of Hannibal's attempts to get rid of him. Despite his earlier annoyance, Hannibal seemed to relax, enjoying the feeling of water spraying against his hide. Eventually he settled down, trumpeting quietly in contentment, and Leo's movements slowed to a calm walk around the elephant.

But it wasn't over yet. 

Once all the dirt and mud had been hosed off, Leo took a step back, wiping at the sweat on his brow. He grinned at Frank. "See? Told you. Everyone likes me eventually."

Not me, Frank thought, and then he thought about what a lie that was. Sure, he could say he found Leo annoying, but he couldn't deny that it had grown on him. After all, he was sitting here right now, watching the guy taunt an elephant, and he wasn't even a little irritated. 

The way Leo stuck out his tongue and danced around Hannibal and squeaked in surprise when a trunk came lashing his way... it was more endearing than annoying. In the past, Frank may have thought otherwise. He wondered what had changed.

Well, he knew what had changed. Maybe it was when he had faced down death to save the world. Maybe it was when he'd handed him that fireproof pouch, smile confident and easy for the first time since Frank had met him. Maybe it was in that underground workshop, destroyed spheres littered across the floor. Or maybe it had gone all the way back to that first real conversation in an underwater bubble.

Whichever it was, Frank was smart enough to admit that the rising temper and the violent exasperation that used to materialise so often in Leo's presence were long gone by now. The only violent feeling Leo gave him these days was a sense of warmth across his skin that made Frank shiver just to think about.

"You're not done yet, you know," Frank scoffed, trying to ignore what exactly that implied. Leo controlled fire; of course he was warm. That was all there was to it. "You still have to wash his feet and belly. That's the hardest part."

"Nothing Leo Valdez can't handle," Leo boasted. He faced Hannibal, taking out the soapy brush from its bucket. For a moment, he stared at it, then glanced back at Hannibal, then back at the brush. Slowly, he turned back around, face blank. "Um... how?"

Frank couldn't help the laugh that forced its way out of his mouth. And he couldn't stop, either, once he'd started; the expression on Leo's face, the dripping wet brush in his hand. and the disgruntled elephant behind him coming together to make a picture that was for some reason hilarious to Frank.

He stood up, hand over his mouth to somehow stifle the giggles, though it was a lame attempt when Leo's glare set him off again. "Alright, enough," Leo said, as if that would truly make Frank stop. " The wise man is blessed with knowledge once but the fool is blessed to learn every day, don't you know?"

"Calling yourself a fool, Valdez?"

Wet brush bristles hit him square in the face, and Frank's laughing rapidly devolved into screaming as the soap got in his eyes. Past his own shrieking he could hear Leo — who was the one now laughing — and when he finally wiped the burning chemical off with his cloak he saw Leo's vindicated grin.

"You didn't have to do all that," Frank muttered, shaking his head as if that would rid his eyes of the violent stinging sensation. Fuck, that really had hurt. "First of all, Hannibal doesn't like being degraded and insulted, like any sane living creature. So note that down."

"I was under the impression that you like it when I degrade and insult you," Leo said, retrieving the brush from the ground, where it had fallen after thwacking Frank in the face. 

The words made Frank flush. Perhaps because it was partly true. Frank didn't necessarily enjoy it, per se, but it had certainly grown on him, and he'd learnt not to take it to heart anymore. Not to mention it would be ten times more eerie if Leo suddenly decided to start being nice.

"There's nothing wrong with masochism, as long as it's conducted in a safe and healthy environment," Leo was saying, and Frank wondered how Leo's mind had strayed that far from elephant-washing.

"Yes, well, I don't think Hannibal is a masochist," Frank said dryly. "You know, if you're not going to focus, then maybe I'll just do it myself. That would make things easier, especially since Hannibal likes me more than he likes you."

He stepped forward and made to swipe the brush out of Leo's hand, but Leo took another step back as well, curling both arms around it defensively. "Oh? Is that a challenge?" Frank sighed in amusement — it had absolutely not been a challenge, but he doubted Leo was listening now. "Well, I hate to tell you, but he's going to love me by the end of this."

"I'm sure he will." Frank hated to admit it, but he was a little curious to see how Leo would try to pull this off. "Fine. Go ahead and tell him to lie down, he's trained to understand that." Leo sent him a very enthusiastic thumbs up, but before he could whirl around, Frank caught him by the wrist. "And be nice. "

"I know it doesn't look like it, but I'm actually very good at that." Frank wanted to say that he knew that, that he'd witnessed it firsthand countless times through the war, but the words got stuck in his throat. Instead he watched Leo wrestle his hand out of Frank's grip and brush their knuckles together. "Chill out, big guy."

Maybe Frank was imagining it, but when Leo withdrew, his fingers pressed against Frank's hand for a little longer than was necessary. Where his hands cupped felt warm and tingly, like sparks trailing across Frank's skin.

Leo stood on his tip-toes, patting his hand against Hannibal's trunk. "Hey, big guy," he said gently, and Frank wasn't sure how he felt about Leo using the same nickname on an elephant as he used with Frank. "I know we got off to a rough start, but can you lay down for me? Pretty please?"

Hannibal didn't attack, but he didn't seem completely assuaged. He gave a soft honk, slapping his trunk onto Leo's head — not enough to be hostile, but rough enough to make Leo stumble back. He looked actually hurt this time, pouting as he looked up at Hannibal with pleading eyes. "This is for your own good, buddy. Don't you want to be squeaky clean?"

"I don't think he really cares about his hygiene," Frank said. He stepped forward. "Here, scratch behind his ear. He likes that."

"What, like a dog?" Leo asked, half-mocking and half-confused. Still, he did it anyway, moving to scrape his nails against the hide behind Hannibal's floppy ears. Irritated, Hannibal shook his hand off wildly, stamping his feet against the ground. "Oh, come on. Ugh... I'm no good with living animals."

Frank sighed fondly. He could tell Leo was really trying this time. A memory resurfaced, one of Leo, a loving grin on his face as he stroked Festus' head at the bow of the Argo II. " Machines are the only thing I'm good for, " he'd said, fingers moving across the bronze just as one would with a living pet, so full of affection. " So it's a good thing he's so beautiful, huh? "

It filled Frank with the strong urge to prove that wrong. To make Leo realise that a living animal was just as capable of loving him as his machines did.

"Gentle," Frank reminded. Before he realised what he was doing his hand was over Leo's, leading him lower down. He curled his fingers slightly, and Leo followed suit, softly running his fingers over the rough hide. Hannibal trumpeted in satisfaction, body relaxing. "See? There we go. Lay down, boy."

Finally, Hannibal obeyed — perhaps because it was Frank rather than Leo saying it. Whatever it was, he sunk to the ground on his haunches, exposing his feet and belly to be cleaned. Leo lit up like a Christmas tree. The fact that he seemed so delighted about this, despite his earlier antics, made Frank's heart stutter.

Leo at least seemed to be better at the actual brushing part. He wasn't too rough, scrubbing with just enough force to get the muck and dirt off of Hannibal without bothering him too much. After a while, Leo even started humming, undisturbed by the dirty water running into his pants. Well, Frank supposed he was used to being dirty.

When Leo made to get up, presumably to move over to Hannibal's other side, Frank caught sight of a stubborn piece of dirt on Hannibal's leg. When he reached forward to point it out, it was then he realised how close he and Leo were.

Which was to say, very.

In his concern for both Leo and Hannibal, he had kept inching closer and closer, keeping track of what was going on. But he hadn't noticed that his entire front was pressed against Leo's back, and by the looks of it neither had Leo, whose knees were half-bent as he froze midway through standing up.

Frank didn't know what Leo had been planning on saying next; all he knew was that he whipped around at the exact same time Frank had stumbled back, causing him to slip on the wet ground. A sound of surprise left Leo's mouth as he fell, splashing water everywhere as he toppled right into Frank's lap.

Thankfully, Frank caught him right before his butt hit the ground, which probably would have been pretty painful. Leo seemed pretty relieved as well, though somewhat flushed, and Frank knew it was because he was shocked, but a part of him wanted to believe that Leo was as flustered as Frank was.

"Sorry," Leo said, half a breath, half a laugh.

Frank's arms were still wrapped around his middle. He couldn't deny that he liked the feeling. Leo wasn't actually all that small — despite the relentless bullying from the others — but compared to Frank, he was tiny. His waist fit perfectly in his arms, his body scrawny in a cute, I-want-to-hug-you-forever way. And though he was light, the weight of him against Frank's chest was the only thing he could focus on.

That was, until — "um, Frank...?"

"Right, no. I'm sorry," Frank sputtered, releasing Leo and putting about a foot of distance between them. God, why was his heart beating so fast? "I just wanted to say, you, uh, missed a spot."

He pointed at the damned spot on Hannibal's leg, hoping giving Leo something to do would distract him from how red Frank's face was, how his heart pounded like a drum (surely it was loud enough for Leo to hear, at this point). It did, to Frank's relief, and Leo retrieved the brush and got back to brushing.

It was silent for a while. Frank worried that he'd ruined the pleasant moment they'd been having, worried that he'd done something weird or wrong, that the way his arms had squeezed around Leo had accidentally conveyed how much he liked having Leo in his arms like that.

Leo broke the tension with his next words, quiet but bringing the kind of levity that only Leo Valdez could bring: "Thank God he didn't shit in the water before that, huh?"

Despite everything, Frank burst into laughter, clenching his stomach as he broke into a fit. And when he calmed down enough to look at Leo again, he was smiling too.

"If you're going to be staying long," Frank said, "then you should probably get your own flat... I can help you cover the costs."

"What's wrong?" Leo turned around briefly to give Frank a toothy grin. His goggles were perched atop his head, dark curls puffed up. "Don't want me around spreading my Greek germs around your precious Roman barracks?"

Frank frowned. He knew Leo wasn't being serious, but it reminded him of the other people and Lares in his senate that actually seemed to think that way. Of course, they hadn't been so excited about a Greek waltzing into camp and getting a free space in the barracks — much less one that had destroyed and bombed said camp and barracks — but Frank had done his best to calm them down for the moment, all while keeping it a secret from Leo, lest he feel like a burden.

"Shut up," he muttered, even though he really had been hoping that Leo moving would finally shut up the other senators, "you know it's not that. But aren't these barracks uncomfortable when you have so much stuff?" 

Now it was Leo's time to frown. "So much? This is barely a quarter of all the stuff I brought, actually. I had to leave the death ray back with Festus!"

"Exactly," Frank said, deciding not to question what exactly the death ray was and whether it was ethically sound, "even more reason to move. I'll pay and organise everything for you. Just choose one and move in."

Leo looked up at Frank, eyes pained but not quite sad. "Thanks, but I can't." Though Frank waited patiently for an elaboration, Leo seemed to ignore this, continuing to hum a song as he shoved a wrench in between two slabs of metal. "Hey, help me out with something."

Not until you're honest with me, Frank thought, but he couldn't bring himself to actually say it. Instead he nodded, letting Leo put his hands on his own. His skin was warm, like it always was, rough and callused and making Frank shiver whenever their knuckles bumped together.

He positioned Frank's hands over, gesturing for him to pinch two strands of wire together. "Usually I'd use my extra arms for this," Leo explained conversationally, "but... you know. Small space. So I didn't bring them with me when I moved into here, they'd be a pain to store."

"So why can't you move?" Frank said, trying not to sound to pleading. He wasn't even sure why he cared so much. If Leo wanted to stay in the barracks so bad, then he should let him. Why did it matter? 

Yet despite the logical voice in the back of his mind speaking, Frank was rather prone to ignoring that section of his brain anyway. The worry stinging in the pit of his stomach didn't go away, and neither did the tingle underneath his skin whenever Leo shifted his body toward his, clearly ignoring the question.

"Ugh, damn it..." Leo muttered under his breath, and whatever problem he was facing seemed to require very close proximity to Frank's face, because he leaned in even closer. So close that if Frank squinted, he could count Leo's fluttering eyelashes, draw imaginary lines between his freckles like a constellation. When Leo sighed in frustration, Frank could feel the force of his breath against his neck.

It should have been gross. Frank should have tried to move back.

So why the hell didn't he?

No, all he did was bite his lip and focus on trying not to let the wires out of his fingers. The way the bronze dug into his skin was a little painful, but it wasn't like he cared. All he cared about was the warm air between them, the scrape of their fingers against each other ever so often. Leo's eyes were lowered, staying staunchly concentrated on the wires, but Frank couldn't stop looking at him — like he was a time bomb about to go off.

And Frank felt like a man about to pass out.

Finally, finally, Leo let out a triumphant noise. "Alright, that's good. You can let go now!" Frank obliged, pulling back like he was on fire. Leo frowned. "Man, I should have covered those first, huh? If they short-circuited you would have gotten hurt... well, in any case, thanks for putting your life in danger for me."

He grinned teasingly at Frank, who simply stared back, heart still beating a mile a minute. "I —" He stammered, before clearing his throat and hoping his face wasn't as red as it felt. "Don't just ignore my question like that."

Leo's face fell. He pouted, looking down at his contraption once more. "Don't look at me that way," he said, "makes me feel like you're disappointed in me. I... I can't move because I can't sleep alone, alright?"

"What?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's embarrassing," Leo huffed, face flushed, "so just leave it alone. Good enough reason for you, right?" He slapped a thin piece of metal over the open wireboard, turning a screwdriver around and around as he locked it in place.

Frank rubbed his neck. He got what he'd wanted, but it didn't feel much like a victory. In fact, he wasn't so sure what to say now. "I thought you didn't sleep," was the only thing he could think to say.

This made Leo huff again, though he didn't really seem angry. "Well, my body can be pretty uncooperative at times. When I go too long without sleeping, I start blacking out. It's real annoying, let me tell you." 

Though Frank wanted to say that this was, in fact, a gods-given blessing that forced Leo to rest so he would not walk around like a sleep-deprived zombie, he decided against it. "For some reason, my nightmares get way worse when I'm sleeping alone. After I died, it's like..." Leo sighed, dejected, "I used to be able to go for like a week, but now I get all spotty after a few days."

"I hate to break this to you," Frank said, "but most people actually sleep every day. Little known fact."

"Oh, shut up." Leo's face broke into a smile, and it made Frank's heart flutter as he swatted at Frank playfully. "Not my fault my genius strikes at unexpected times! ...Which are usually the middle of the night."

"Really? I thought a true genius would be able to come up with ideas at any time. Guess you're not one after all."

Leo lunged at him with all the ferocity of a tiger, and all the fearsomeness of a kitten. They rolled around on the ground until Leo seemed to decide that smacking Frank's chest and face wasn't really doing much, and rolled over to lay on the ground next to him.

Being close to him like this was nice. Back on the Argo II, they had always kept their distance, even after they stopped their ridiculous fighting. But he supposed helping someone die and come back to life was a good enough qualification for being allowed to touch them.

By now, Leo seemed to be comfortable enough to...

Frank bolted upright. He wasn't as smart as Leo, but he supposed even he could have his moments of genius. "Sleep with me," he blurted out.

"WHAT?!"

"No, I meant —" Frank blushed furiously at the way Leo stared at him with wide eyes. "Live with me. In my house. It's not a mansion or anything, but it's way bigger than the barracks, and there's only one bedroom but the bed is pretty big. Or we can buy you another bed! I just... want you to work on your projects as much as you want while you're here."

And maybe force you to get some more sleep while we're at it.

An odd smile bloomed on Leo's face. Frank thought he could see his cheeks darken a little, but maybe it was just his imagination. "Can't lose to Camp Half-Blood, huh?" He said softly. Then, as if going back to his usual self, he puffed out his chest and raised his voice louder. "Well, it's about time! You know I saved the world, right? What does a guest of honour have to do to get some respect around here?"

"Guest of honour, hm?" Frank stifled a laugh. "So is that a yes?"

Leo sat up too. He looked down, as if considering his options. "I mean, if it's really cool with you... then sure. That sounds nice." He looked up, eyes soft, and the way his lips curved into a smile made Frank feel like he was about to pass out all over again.

God. What had he gotten himself into? 

In less than an hour, Frank's house had transformed from a neat, empty property, into one filled to the brim with machinery and tools. Though he tripped no less than a dozen times on the way to his bedroom, Frank couldn't say that he hated it. After all, it wasn't like he had much of anything of his own to fill the place with.

It kind of brightened it up, in a way. Made the small space even cozier.

"When you said you had a lot of stuff," Frank said, gingerly opening the bedroom door to see Leo, who was trying desperately to shove all his belongings into one side of the room. "You really meant a lot. " 

"Sorry, man," Leo laughed nervously. He pushed at something, which seemed to cause a domino effect, as the whole tower of metal it was built on toppled over. Frank rushed over as Leo yelped, propping up the various trinkets as Leo tried his best to organise it with more stability. "I'll get this all neat and tidy by tomorrow, swear."

Frank hesitantly pulled his hands away from the tower, sighing a breath of relief when it didn't collapse. "Well, I hate to rush, but you actually have a deadline. I got a bed for you, and it's coming tomorrow morning, so you're going to have to clear out some space for it by then."

"Guess I'll have to go into speedy cleaning mode." Leo punched his open palm, a look of determination as if it were an extremely serious matter. "Wait, you bought me a bed?"

"Yeah, I mean, it was nothing compared to the fact that I offered to buy you an entire flat..." Hell, Frank probably would have bought Leo the entire building if he had asked for it. He didn't want to think about why that was. There was nothing weird about making sure the person who saved your life was comfortable, right? "Why, is that a problem? Do you prefer couches?"

Leo raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "Nah — um, nah, not a problem. Thanks, though." He laughed, though it came out a little stilted. "Would've been weird if we slept in the same bed."

Something about that sentence made Frank's heart pang with pain, though logically he knew it was true. After all, just because they lived together now didn't mean they were any closer than they had been before. They were just sharing a living space because it was convenient, because Leo needed space to do his thing, because Frank didn't like the feeling of having a house all to himself only by virtue of being Praetor.

Of course it'd be weird for them to share a bed!

Frank couldn't recover fast enough — he was never as good as Leo at acting, at letting everything roll off his back. You wear your heart on your sleeve, Hazel told him sincerely once (she hadn't meant it as an insult, but it did feel like one).

So instead of responding, he hummed noncommittally, as if neither agreeing nor disagreeing. And Leo didn't seem all that interested in his nonexistent reply anyway, because he'd already gone back to scrambling around trying to organise his things.

Night had fallen already. They had come to their agreement to live together during sunset, and for some reason they decided to do it the same day. That was always one thing they both had in common, Frank thought: "impulsive as all hell", as Hazel liked to say with a fond but exasperated tone of voice.

(As if she didn't have her fair share of impulsive moments!)

It usually worked out better for Leo, since he was the smarter one. He obviously hadn't thought this one through either, though, because it was already late and Leo was still running around with dirty clothes and stinking of oil. Which wasn't irregular for him, but...

"Take a shower and go to sleep, will you?" Frank said. It came out as more of a command (he did that a lot nowadays). 

"You just told me I was on a deadline," Leo accused, hefting up a box full of heavy metal tools.

Yes, and Frank totally regretted it now that he saw that Leo was going to make a fuss out of the whole thing. "We'll clean that up in the morning. There's already enough space it is, and even if there isn't I'll just push my own bed against the wall or something. It's fine." When Leo narrowed his eyes and made to whine, he cut him off. "Hey, if you're gonna live in my house, you're going to have to follow my rules."

Leo rolled his eyes and dropped the box on the ground, scattering the parts in it everywhere. Frank's jaw dropped as Leo left for the bathroom, half-naked already, and Frank couldn't help but yell: "Don't be a prick, Valdez!"

In return, Frank heard what was possibly the loudest and most impressive raspberry he'd ever heard in his entire life.

A few minutes later, Leo was back, in fresh (stained) clothes and a towel thrown over his wet hair. Frank had already thrown all the parts back into the box, though somewhat haphazardly in a way he knew Leo wouldn't have been happy about if he'd been there, and kicked said box to the corner of the room.

"You need company when you sleep, right?" Frank said. "I have a spare mattress and a bunch of pillows and blankets, but you'll just have to deal with mine for now. But it's better than sleeping on the floor — I've seen you do that. It's bad for your back, you know."

It seemed to take Leo a few moments to process what Frank was saying, as if they'd been on entirely different. "I'm not sleeping," he said. "I thought we established that! I'll just spend the night cleaning up."

"I will not be able to sleep with you crashing around like a metal bull," Frank complained. His concerns really laid more with Leo getting rest rather than himself, but he didn't mention that. "I told you it was fine already. My house, my rules. And you don't have to sleep in the same bed as me, so you don't have to be weirded out or anything."

"That's not the... never mind. Whatever." Leo crossed his arms, clearly still resistant to the idea, but he walked over onto the bed anyway. He plunged into it, back sinking into the plush mattress. "Holy shit. I take it back, you can sleep in the toilet for all I care. My bed now."

Frank rolled his eyes, but didn't protest. He heaved his extra mattress into the room, and he let Leo arrange the pillows and blankets however he liked. To reach optimal comfort levels, he had said.

It had seemed stupid at first, but when Frank sank into it, he had to admit it was in fact the most comfortable makeshift bed he'd ever been in (and he'd been in plenty). Leo turned off the lights, creeping back to bed, and Frank heard the ploof sound when he fell back into it.

"Well," Leo said in the darkness, and if Frank didn't know him he'd say that Leo almost sounded nervous. "Night, roomie."

"Don't call me that. You're not my roommate, you're a parasite." He couldn't help but grin at the way Leo giggled at that. "...Good night."

With that and a hum from Leo, Frank turned over and faced the wall. It was a solid, polished hardwood, though it just looked grey and dull in the darkness. He stared at it for a while, counting the lines that ran up the sides, waiting to fall asleep as he always did.

A minute passed. Then a few more. Then maybe an hour — Frank didn't know — and still he stayed awake.

He groaned and turned over again, this time staring at the legs of his bed rather than the wall. Frank didn't usually have such trouble sleeping. It was staying asleep that he had trouble with, what with the frequent nightmares, but falling asleep in itself wasn't that difficult for him.

Maybe it was the firmness of his mattress that he wasn't used to. Maybe he was too comfortable in his carefully-constructed bed layout. Maybe he had turned the air conditioner up too high. Or maybe, maybe, it was the steady sound of Leo's breathing, the dark shape of his body on the bed. 

"Hey," Leo said, as if it he had known that Frank was thinking about him. Which was, of course, impossible, but that didn't prevent Frank from being paranoid. 

"Hi," Frank replied back, not sure what else to say.

They stayed in silence for a few more minutes, tension thick between them but neither brave enough to break it. That is, until Leo asked, much more quiet than before, "you wanna come up here?"

It was a simple question, but it felt like an admission somehow. Frank didn't answer, but he did sit up, messing up the arrangement of pillows and blankets. He stared at Leo's back for a while before he finally said something. "It wouldn't be weird? "

"'If a tree falls in a forest, and no one's around to hear it, does it really make a sound?'" Leo quoted, before rolling his eyes — even in the dark Frank could see it, the way he pouted. "Well, fucking obviously. Sound is a vibration, and philosophers are bullshit. But you know what I mean."

Leo's strange tangent on philosophy — no doubt coming from his mind as an engineer — fills Frank with the sudden and overwhelming urge to oblige, to climb up onto the bed and wrap himself around Leo and hug him tight in a strictly platonic manner.

He didn't do that. It was his late night brain talking, of course, dreaming up things that Frank would never want or think of otherwise. Yet it took every ounce of self-control in Frank's body (and there was a lot of it) to stand up slowly and lay himself next to Leo like a regular person.

"No more rants about philosophy," he whispered, even though it was that very thing that had made Frank so giddy. Even though it was that very thing that caused this: him, barely a foot away from Leo, so close he could smell his shampoo. 

Or maybe he said it because of all that. 

(His shampoo smelled nicer on Leo.)

"You want to live with me," Leo said, turning over to face him. Frank wished he hadn't, because now he could see close-up every angle and detail on Leo's face; wide eyes, crooked nose, soft eyebrows. And Frank wasn't even going to acknowledge the bottom half of his face, for fear of what his brain might come up with.  "You're going to have to get used to my rants about dumb philosophy."

"Isn't philosophy a science?"

"Sometimes." Leo rolled his eyes. "Other times it's just people saying random shit to make themselves sound smart."

Frank breathed a laugh at the way his nose scrunched up in disdain. "Sounds like a certain someone I know," he jabbed, staring pointedly at Leo. Not that he wasn't staring before, but at least this time it was intentional. 

"I say random shit to make myself sound stupid, thank you very much," Leo corrected in a tone of voice that suggested it was something he was proud of. "Ugh, I'm so awake. See? This is what happens when I try to go to sleep before I want to. Now I won't let you sleep either." He started hitting Frank's arms, poised like he was fist-fighting. "Pow. Pow. Pow. Pow."

His faux boxing seemed to shift him even closer to Frank. "Are you trying to annoy me?" Frank blurted out, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart at the sensation of Leo's breath against his lips. "Because it's not working. Go to sleep."

"Ha! You won't be saying that when I'm doing it all night long. Pow. Pow." Leo kept punching, and Frank had to admit that it was kind of getting on his nerves. He pouted, as if he were the one annoyed now. "Is this seriously not hurting at all? Pow. Pow!"

The last one was his strongest punch yet. It didn't actually do anything to Frank, but it was his counterstrike that pushed things over the edge. Or rather, pushed Leo over the edge.

It seemed that Frank had underestimated how close Leo was to the edge of the bed; though their closeness should have given him a clue. As it were, Frank had been way too distracted (though he would never in a million years admit what he was distracted by) to notice.

He realised his mistake a split second before Leo's eyes widened as he was pushed over the side of the mattress. The bed wasn't particularly tall, of course, but it was instinct that made Frank grab the collar of Leo's shirt and pull him back.

A squeak emitted from Leo's throat, a noise quite understandable from someone who had been pushed in one direction a second before being frantically pulled back like a ragdoll. He breathed a sigh of relief, hands coming to curl on Frank's chest —

Wait, what?

Frank's eyes snapped to the mess of curly hair that now laid slightly below him. "Thanks," Leo said flippantly, like they weren't in an incredibly intimate position. "For a second there I thought you were trying to kill me. I was just joking around, jeez."

"I — I know." Frank stammered. Leo yawned into his chest, and Frank wondered where all his earlier energy had gone, because he really needed Leo to have it back right now. He swallowed down his pride and ignored the voice in the back of his head that screamed to stop worrying about it, to move his arm up and touch Leo some more. The voice that was solely constructed of random thoughts that did not reflect Frank's actual desires at all, obviously. "What, aren't you worried about this being weird?"

"Not weird if you don't make it weird, tree," Leo murmured. Nearly his whole face and torso was pressed against Frank's chest, and Frank worried that he could hear the bloody pounding of his heart. "My turn now to say it. Shut up and go to sleep."

The back of his neck was so tempting. Frank wanted to skim his fingers across the rough, burned skin there, soothe the long-healed scars that Gaea had left on him. He resisted the urge, instead saying " yessir," after a moment, though he knew Leo was already half-asleep. "Good night, Leo."

It didn't take too long for Frank to fall asleep, just as he normally was. This time, though, no nightmares disturbed him. He woke up in the morning surprisingly well-rested, another surprise coming in the form of Leo still snoozing away in his arms, head tucked into his neck. The warmth made Frank almost hope deep down that Leo's bed would never be delivered, that it would stay in its package forever.

And if Frank pretended to be asleep for just a few more minutes until Leo woke up, nose tucked into his hair... it wasn't like anyone had to know.

Frank looked out the window, watching the grey asphalt speed by beneath the tires of his car. He sighed, pressing his forehead against the cool glass, and wished one of them had the courage to break the silence.

They hadn't talked much since morning. Leo's bed had been delivered, just as it was supposed to be, and Frank convinced himself that he was happy about it. That them sharing a bed was weird and awkward and it was much better that they could sleep apart now. Truly so relieved, he was.

Still, the new addition to his room wasn't enough to disperse the tension between them. Neither had brought it up, exchanging greetings and small talk and occasional banter courtesy of Leo's patented quips, but whatever familiarity they'd begun to have after the war was gone now. It reminded Frank of the beginning, when the fate of the world hung over their heads — when every word out of Leo's mouth was an insult and every face Frank sent his way was a scowl.

It had only been a year and some since then. But it felt like so much longer.

Frank had been understandably surprised when Leo had offered to go with him to check out what seemed to be a monster den terrorizing the locals. No one had died yet — monsters didn’t really kill mortals if they had bigger prey to hunt — but they seemed to be getting hungrier and angrier, and it was best to exterminate them now before they did any damage. Though he’d been happy at first, relieved to know Leo wasn’t completely giving him the silent treatment, Frank was beginning to wonder whether he should’ve insisted on going on his own.

He risked a glance at Leo, who kept his gaze staunchly on the road. His face was almost peaceful like this, focused on something that wasn't particularly difficult. Eyebrows even, eyes forward, lips still instead of curved into their usual pout or mischievous grins. Frank would be lying if he said he disliked those expressions on Leo's face, but seeing him all calm like this... it was kind of nice.

The silence dragged on, punctuated by quiet pop music playing from the radio. Frank desperately searched for something to say, but he was already socially awkward enough as it was, barely able to handle even the most normal of situations. 

And yet, Frank thought bitterly, not even the most social of people could follow up hey, so you persuaded me to sleep in your bed last night and I definitely didn't put up as much of a fight as I should have. Also you cuddled up to me and I pretended to be asleep just so I could bury my face in your hair, which smells really good, by the way. But I'm pretty sure that doesn't help your sleeping situation.

Wait... right! What better way to start a conversation than to bring up the problem that had caused the situation in the first place? Perhaps Frank really was growing toward being a semi-normal social being.

"Did you have any nightmares last night?" The mention of last night alone made Frank wince, but Leo thankfully didn't seem to have the same aversion to it. Or maybe that was his amazing acting skills at play.

"Yeah, actually, I did," Leo said, lifting his hand off the wheel to twirl a strand of curly hair around his finger. "But they were, y'know, not worse than the regular ones. Nothing to worry about."

"Is that why you get so little sleep?" Frank asked. He knew Leo hated when people showed him pity, thought it presumptuous when people were concerned for him (no matter how ridiculous that was), but he really couldn't help it. "You're scared?"

Leo's metal fingers twitched against the wheel in annoyance. His prosthetic was always polished to shine, meticulous with his machines as he was, but in the afternoon light it seemed to gleam even brighter. A thought spawned in his head; he wanted to skim his own fingers across the ridges, wondered how much touch Leo could and couldn't feel there.

...No, he didn't. Why was he even thinking about this? And why exactly couldn't Frank curb his tendency of being such a creep around Leo?

"The Great Leo Valdez isn't scared of anything," Leo sniffed, the braggadocio barely concealing the tick of irritation in his furrowed eyebrows. Frank kept pushing, knowing Leo wouldn't fly too off the handle as long as he was driving. Even if he wanted to kill Frank, he'd never damage such a nice car.

Frank yawned, feigning indifference to hide how invested he was in Leo's wellbeing. Appearing too worried would probably scare him off. "That doesn't answer my question," he said, leaning forward to adjust the volume on the radio. "I mean, no Leo Valdez I'm seeing around here is particularly great."

"Fuck off," Leo said, though he did seem to be more relaxed now at the insult. Funny how that worked. "It's not scared, exactly. But they're annoying. I mean, no one sane likes nightmares."

"I guess," Frank murmured. The next words that came out of his mouth were not voluntary, borne more out of a scrambling for something to say rather than a real desire to convey what they meant. Which was to say, regret hit him like a truck the moment he spoke them. "I'm sorry."

"For existing in my presence? Hey, I know I'm pretty awesome, but I guess you've earned the right."

His stupid mouth had already dug a hole for him — might as well commit to it. All or nothing , that was his motto in social situations. In battle too. Everything in life, really. Frank was a very all-or-nothing guy, even if he did choose to go with nothing more often than not.

"No, for last night." Frank rubbed the back of his neck, deciding to keep his eyes on the winding, long road ahead instead of looking at Leo. Maybe that way it'd be less awkward, though the silence that dragged on was already awkward enough. "You said you didn't want to sleep in the same bed, so, um... well, it was weird. So I'm sorry."

Silence dragged on for a while longer. The faint sound of the radio music and the drumming of Leo's fingers against the wheel felt far away, like they were echoing from another dimension. Still Frank resisted the temptation to glance to his right, nearly paralyzed with fear.

"It's fine," Leo said, finally, and Frank couldn't hide his sigh of relief. "I was the one who asked. Like you said, it was weird, so we can forget it ever happened. Besides... we're bros, right? It's not that big of a deal."

For some reason, Leo calling him a bro hurt Frank on a molecular level, but the sentiment was enough to make Frank crack a smile at the very least. "Alright, then. Cool.”

They settled into silence once more, this time considerably more comfortable than the last. He could bring himself to look at Leo now, tilting his head to better see him through the glare of the dusk sun. His curly hair fell over his eyes, the pitch black looking more like honey brown in the light. Frank did reach out this time, fingers twitching on the arm rest between them.

Well, if they were cool now, then… it was cool to do this, right?

“Can I touch your arm?”

Leo paused, as if processing the question. He eased up on the gas, the car going down to a slower pace. “Huh,” he said, “I feel like you’ve touched it before… when we were washing Hannibal, or, last night…”

“What happened last night?” Frank said, the playful unspoken words clear: I thought you said to forget it. Leo grinned at him. “Um, well, I’ve never touched it properly. I’m just curious. But it’s fine if you’re uncomfortable.”

“I mean, I don’t mind. I was getting carsick anyway… need an excuse to pull over, jeez.” The car slowed to a crawl then finally stopped by the side of the road. Leo stretched back like a cat, a low keen tearing itself from his throat. After he relaxed a bit, he kicked off his boots, crossed his legs on his seat, and practically brandished his arm at Frank. “Alright, here you go, weirdo.”

Now that he actually had Leo’s arm in front of him like a new toy, Frank wasn’t completely sure what to do. He started with a question: “how — how different is it from your old arm?”

“Um, different. ” Leo smiled, as if to say, duh. “It’s cold, for one thing. Doesn’t feel as alive. And I don’t feel sensation as much as I used to.” 

Frank finally worked up the nerve to place his fingers on the ridges. It felt like regular metal, cool and hard. Smooth, unlike the callused, scarred flesh parts of Leo’s body. He looked up to gauge the reaction, but Leo hadn’t even flinched. “Can you feel this?”

“Nah.” He wriggled his fingers, and now that they were in a quiet environment, Frank could hear a slight whirring sound as they moved. “You’re being too soft.”

He pressed harder, tracing the lines between panels. In any other situation it would have been mundane, nothing to get worked up over, but knowing this was Leo he was touching made it special. Frank’s eyes traced up the metal arm, up until the alloy disappeared underneath the sleeve of Leo’s jacket, vision drifting upward to where he could barely see the line of metal meeting skin near Leo’s collarbone. “That feels kinda nice,” Leo said, voice playful but uncharacteristically quiet.

“Really?” Frank frowned. He tried to replicate the movement of massaging. His unnatural strength always made him bad at that, too forceful to be relaxing, but if Leo’s sense of feeling was dulled… then maybe a little more force was necessary. “How does that work?”

“Hell if I know. Just does.” They were silent for a while as Frank pressed his fingers into the metal, working his way up from Leo’s wrist to his forearm. “I don’t usually feel anything there, I guess that’s why. Man, you’re good at this! How do you feel about quitting your job and becoming my personal masseur?”

“No,” Frank deadpanned, and Leo grinned. “Even if I wanted to… which I don’t … Reyna would kill me for quitting just to take up such a lame position.” His fingers grazed the bottom of Leo’s rolled up sleeve. “Can I?”

Leo nodded, shifting to slip his arm out of the sleeve. It looked even more magnificent now, long stretches of metal spray-painted gold and silver like a weapon of war. The reflection of the light made it almost blinding to look at. “Are you serious? Everyone knows that being my assistant is actually the most esteemed job in the world. Just yesterday Reyna was begging to shine my shoes!”

“Is that so? I’ll ask her how her work experience has been so far, then.”

“Wait, fuck, don’t.” The panic in Leo’s voice made Frank laugh, giddiness bubbling in his chest. “She’ll kill me for even saying that. I’m serious, Frank, don’t.”

“But Reyna’s so prestigious. I imagine she’d be honoured to be offered a job as important as serving the Great Leo Valdez ,” Frank mocked, throwing Leo’s own words back at him. His fingers fiddled with a loose panel on Leo’s bicep, until it popped open. Frank narrowed his eyes. “Is that a matchbox? Leo, you have…”

Fire powers, he was about to say, but the words died on his tongue. He recalled the way Leo balked at using his powers, how he’d looked when he’d told Frank about how his mother died. It was impossible to forget, his shaky hands and screwed-shut eyes, and Frank would be a bit of a hypocrite if he called Leo out for that now.

A warrior afraid of war was just as ridiculous as a firebender afraid of fire, after all.

“Your toolbelt,” Frank finished. “I’m sure it can produce at least a matchbox.”

“Never hurts to be prepared.” Leo shrugged. His brow was furrowed. No doubt he knew what Frank had been about to say, but decided to ignore it. “You done feeling me up yet?”

The comment should have made Frank blush and stammer and maybe throw himself out of the car in humiliation, but perhaps Leo’s arm had therapeutic qualities, because he felt strangely calm. “Right, sorry,” he said, raising his finger to press against the seam where his prosthetic met his shoulder stump. “Does it hurt?”

Leo was quiet for a moment, as if deciding what to say. He raised his other hand to touch it as well, his fingers scraping against Frank’s. A chill ran down Frank’s spine at the sensation. “There’s this thing called phantom pain,” he said finally, “when a limb gets amputated or an organ gets removed, the brain can’t quite process that, so the nerves… well, basically, yeah. It does hurt. It hurts like it’s still there.”

“Badly?”

“Sometimes.” Leo traced the line there absent-mindedly. Maybe the way their hands brushed together wasn’t affecting him as much as it was affecting Frank… maybe Frank was just pathetic and weird. Somehow he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad at that realisation. “Sometimes it’s a really sharp stinging pain, but sometimes it’s just dull soreness, y’know?”

All Frank did was swallow and nod, not trusting himself to be normal if he opened his mouth. He imagined feeling that type of pain, an eternal, constant reminder of what he once had that was now gone. An embodiment of everything he’d sacrificed.

Leo’s hand moved to cover Frank’s, tiny compared to his. “It’s been way better, though. Used to hurt like a bitch after I first chopped the arm off, but now… it’s only sometimes. And not as bad.”

Frank’s eyes drew toward the way Leo bit his lip, like the force of a magnet. “Yeah?” He managed. “It’s getting better?”

“Yeah.” Leo smiled. “It is.”

Frank could almost hear the paperwork on his desk cry out in anguish when Leo burst into the room.

And for good reason, too. He didn’t hesitate in throwing his pen over his shoulder and sliding the paperwork into an ever-growing pile, drawing away from the headache-inducing paragraphs in favour of paying attention to Leo. Who was currently standing in the doorway, hands tucked behind his back.

This immediately struck Frank as strange. First, Leo never stood like that. He had two postures: the impeccably perfect one he defaulted to after a long session of violin- or piano-playing, and the disastrous back-breaking one he used when he was too hyper-focused on a project to realise he had bent himself into a pretzel over it.  Yet this one was different entirely, hands hidden and his shoulders drawn slightly forward, as if he were curling into himself.

Ah, so that was the problem. He looked shy. An uncommon disposition to see on him, but not downright impossible, Frank supposed, reminded of how Leo had looked when they’d first met. Who wouldn’t look shy and despondent after a good yelling from Percy Jackson and being at fault for a camp-bombing?

Neither of those things were happening right now, though, which is what made Frank so curious.

“What’s wrong?” 

Leo opened his mouth. Fidgeted. Tapped his metal arm erratically, an undecipherable pattern in the faint steely sounds. Whatever it was he wanted to say, it must’ve been something serious. Frank raised an eyebrow, hoping that would prompt him to continue, because he was nearly dying of curiousity now.

“Hey, Frankie, I’ve been thinking lately,” he finally managed, voice strained but otherwise loud and somewhat playful, like he usually was — even when he was talking normally, Leo had that kittenish lilt in his cadence. So it wasn’t anything related to death, at least. “I… I mean, you…”

He bit his lip, clearly nervous. What the hell is going on in that head of yours, Valdez?

But when he looked up at Frank next, his eyes were wide, almost determined, though the rest of his face was oddly blank.

“Hey, Frank. Teach me how to fight.”

…Alright.

Fifteen minutes later, they were standing in the middle of the training arena. There were still people around; some training, some red-faced and panting on the ground nursing water bottles, some wandering over to watch their esteemed Praetor try not to kill the scrawny Greek mechanic. The watching eyes didn’t seem to make Leo nervous, which was only natural, since he was used to making a fool out of himself with an audience.

“Alright.” Frank cracked his knuckles, trying to not be bothered by the people watching. Unlike Leo, he wasn’t as steely when it came to stage (arena?) fright. They love you, he reassured himself, just as he had many times before, they admire you. You have nothing to worry about. “So, how much do you know about hand-to-hand combat?”

“Well, I’ve done it before.” Leo punched the air in an imitation of boxing. “Had to learn how to defend myself when I lived on the streets. But I never knew how to do it properly, so I ended up dislocating my knuckles instead of my opponent’s face a few times.” His grin was far too jovial to be paired with a statement like that . Frank would never admit it, most of all because he knew Leo hated being pitied, but it made his heart ache whenever he mentioned his past so casually like that. “I was just thinking about it, so that’s why I asked you.”

You were awfully nervous for someone asking for combat lessons, is what Frank wanted to say, but he held his tongue in favour of not putting Leo on the spot in front of a half-dozen people. Whatever it had been that was troubling Leo, Frank didn’t want to push it too much, even if he didn’t exactly trust Leo to ever be honest.

“Do you, um, know the default stance you should take?” He asked, and Leo nodded. “It’s different for types of fighters, you know, weapons have different positions based on weight and range and all that. But let’s start with the basics for now.”

With a bounce, Leo positioned himself, hands curled into fists at cheek-level and his feet spread shoulder width apart. It was good so far, as far as Frank could tell, but to really get started he needed to correct all the minute details of his posture…

Which meant he’d have to get close to Leo. He’d have to look at him, keep his eyes on his limbs and face and body. Maybe if he was especially (un)lucky, he’d have to touch Leo, put his hands on his trim shoulders and shift them until he was in position, wrap his hands around that warm skin and gleaming metal to show him how to place his arms perfectly right.

Belatedly, Frank realised he had made a huge mistake.

Eyeing the devilish glint in Leo’s face, Frank wondered if he’d planned this, but shook the thought away. Leo looked devilish nearly all the time, and it wasn’t as if he were enjoying this physical contact as much as Frank was. He wasn’t the one who felt a warmth in his chest whenever they touched, wasn’t the one who shivered whenever their fingers pressed together when Frank passed Leo something.

Forcing himself out of his thoughts, lest he look like an idiot simply standing there, Frank stepped closer. Being so close to Leo was sending his nerves into their familiar spiral already, but he didn’t want to let him down, either, especially when he actually looked eager to learn. 

His eyes scanned Leo’s pose in a mostly analytic manner. “You’ve got most of it down,” he said approvingly, and even without words he could see Leo flare with pride. He pointed at Leo’s hand. “You should tuck your thumb in — no, not under your fingers, just over them. Yeah, like that. And…” Frank moved to circle Leo, peering at the angles of his shoulders. “Which is your dominant side?”

“I was born left-handed, but I’m ambidextrous,” Leo answered, flexing his hands. “Like, seriously, there’s no difference for me anymore.”

“Oh. Well, typically, you’d position so as to keep your dominant side away from the opponent, and the other side poised to defend and stuff.” Ignoring the voice in the back of his mind screaming bloody murder, Frank pressed his fingers gently against Leo’s right shoulder, pushing it back. “But I guess that’s not necessary for you. You should go with whatever feels comfortable.”

Shifting from side-to-side, as if experimenting with what felt right, Leo nodded. “Aye aye, captain,” he quipped. “This feels fine. I’m battle-ready, sir!”

“Don’t call me that. Alright, try throwing a punch.” 

Leo did. It wasn’t terrible, but Frank could hear a few snickers from the people around them. In an odd moment of strong annoyance, he turned to glare at them, and the sound instantly ceased. He’d forgotten how arrogant some of his people were, but they reminded him pretty often, that was for sure.

“Was it that bad?” Leo laughed, unbothered, and Frank couldn’t help but admire him for that. 

“It wasn’t terrible. But first of all, keep your feet on the ground. I know you’re trying to put force in it, but if you tip-toe like that, you’ll lose balance.” Frank drove the point home by pressing his boot down against Leo’s, drawing an ow and a pout from him. Cute. “I’ve seen you fight a lot better in an actual battle. Maybe it’s more awkward for you because we’re training so formally like this?”

A look of thoughtfulness appeared on Leo’s face, the one he got when he was thinking about machines or ways to aggravate Frank. “Well, I guess it feels more natural ‘cause it’s instinct,” he said. “I have martial arts in my blood, you know, I come from a long line of — ah! ”

The yelp that came out of Leo as Frank bolted toward him with his fist curled was shrill and adorable, and Frank would have laughed if he hadn’t been focusing. Leo managed to scramble out of the way just in time, and their audience stepped back to give them space.

“Warn a guy next time, will you?” Leo whined, hands coming up as he got into stance. Thumb tucked, back straight… good. 

Frank shook his head, raising his own fists. “You’re not a beginner. You’ve fought in life-or-death situations before, so it feels weird to do it in such a controlled way. Besides, when you’re fighting a monster, it’s not like they’re going to give you a w —”

Pain shot through his face. Leo had landed a hit square on his jaw, eyes wild and mouth twisted into that familiar grin. Frank rubbed the quickly-forming bruise and smiled back — he was aware he always looked a little crazy like this, but at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to care. It was easy to deflect Leo’s next attempt, especially as he got into the groove of things.

They circled each other like wolves, trading jabs, eyes flitting around to search for weak spots. Frank was a lot stronger than Leo, but Leo was slippery. He wasn’t going to go easy on him just because his muscles were pathetic. 

Abruptly Leo rushed toward him, diving for his stomach. Frank made to deflect a punch, but Leo wasn’t aiming for that; instead he crashed into Frank like a bullet train hitting a wall, fist swinging for his face. Probably his main target all along.

His hands wrapped around Leo’s waist surprisingly easy with how thin it was. Something in Frank’s throat lurched at the realisation, just in time for Leo to punch him again, this time hard enough to fill his mouth with blood. The soles of Leo’s boots dug into Frank’s gut, and he ripped himself out of Frank’s grip as easy as if he were an eel, using Frank’s stomach as a launching pad.

A clever plan, but unfortunately Leo’s landing wasn’t as graceful. He tumbled onto the ground, balance off-kilter, and Frank took the opportunity to lunge toward him. Wrapping his hand around Leo’s wrist to haul him to his feet, Frank used his other hand to deliver a resounding, satisfying thwack to Leo’s sharp cheekbones. 

He landed another punch before Leo managed to wrestle himself out of Frank’s grip, kneeing him in his poor abused gut. Purple was blooming where Frank had punched already, but his smile was still staunch in its same inflammatory playfulness. 

“Come on,” he crowed, “that all you got, Zhang? I’m disappointed.”

It was an obvious taunt, but Frank willingly fell for it, pushing himself forward at the same time Leo did. Every strike Leo sent his way, Frank blocked, and in turn Leo deftly dodged all of his. Frank had never been so frustrated with how small Leo was — how exactly was he supposed to hit such a tiny target?!

Luckily, Leo was good, but not that good. He made to hit Frank in the side, but overshot, arm scraping uselessly against Frank’s waist. Frank hooked his arm under Leo’s, grabbed the back of his shirt, and heaved. With how light Leo was, it was almost laughably easy to throw him onto the ground.

Leo hit the ground with a pained oof, and the impact seemed to knock the breath right out of his lungs. Though he was fast in regaining his composure and tried to clamber to his feet, he wasn’t fast enough . Frank caught his arm easily in his hand, pinning it to the ground just as he planted his knee on Leo’s stomach. This elicited another groan of pain.

If he was in his right mind Frank might have been worried he’d gone a little too far, but right now the blood was pumping through his veins and to his brain, too heady for Frank to feel anything but excitement and triumph as he bent over Leo, blood smeared across both their faces.

“Feel like surrendering?” He asked, out of breath, unable to keep the giddiness from his face.

Despite his kicking and flailing (and admittedly the hit to Frank’s crotch hurt like hell), Leo couldn’t escape his hold. His eyes drooped, flitting around Frank’s face as they stared at each other, noses nearly touching as if whoever broke contact lost some kind of competition. The sound of a heartbeat pounded in Frank’s ears, and they were so close Frank couldn’t tell who it belonged to. 

“Hell no,” Leo hissed back, competitiveness still in his eyes, even if he had long recognised he was in an impossible situation. That was just like him, alright… not giving up until the end. 

Where Frank’s hand was wrapped around Leo’s human arm he could feel his pulse. His grip loosened, wondering how it would feel to trace the veins down Leo’s scarred arms like he had with his prosthetic. 

Then he realised there were about a dozen people watching them.

He jerked away, an apology on his tongue as if Leo had read his thoughts, could sense how weird he was being. “Sorry, I —” he managed, before craning his head to face their audience. “What do we think, guys? Who won?”

They murmured, unanimously agreeing that Leo definitely wasn’t getting out of this one. Frank laughed, and he could feel his sense of self returning to him — he always lost himself a bit when he was fighting. “Well, you heard them,” he said, rolling over and thudding onto the ground beside Leo. “Show’s over. Back to training, all of you.”

“Boo, no fun, Praetor,” he heard one of them say as they dispersed, walking away to take up their own weapons and get back to sparring. He turned to face Leo, who was still breathing hard, face red.

“They would’ve said you won no matter what,” he huffed. “Isn’t that how things work here in the Great Roman Empire? Insult the leader, and you get your head put on a chopping block.”

“I think you’re thinking of the Holy Roman Empire, which is an… entirely different thing.” Leo made a see-sawing gesture as if to say, same difference. “And should I take that as an insult? I’m not a tyrant.”

Flopping over onto his side, Leo laughed, though he couldn’t hide the way his face contorted with pain. He spotted Frank’s look of worry before Frank could even open his mouth. “Don’t worry, I’m not hurt that badly. You’re not that strong.” He rolled his eyes. They both knew Frank really was that strong. “You got lucky this time.”

“The whole flip thing was clever.” Now that the excitement had really ebbed away, it left nothing but a faint sense of longing and a not-at-all faint sense of soreness and ache all over his body. Especially in his stomach, where Leo had dug his heels in. “Really hurt, I’ll give you that. Since it was your whole body weight, and all.”

With a wink and a sloppily concealed wince, Leo sat up. “Thanks.” He looked down at his hands and sighed. His face was serious, thoughtful. “I did that when I was fighting… her.” Frank didn’t need to ask who. “And I remember thinking, wow. I can do that? Weird thing to think in such an important moment, I know.”

“Not really,” Frank contemplated. “I think a lot of random stuff when I’m fighting too. I guess because so much stuff is happening, your brain fixates on the weirdest things.”

“So you do it too,” Leo said, speaking more like he was wondering aloud rather than actually making conversation. “I would think that you — well, never mind. Good to know we’re both weirdos.” 

Oh, you don’t even know the half of it, Frank thought.

“Feel like you learned anything?” Frank asked instead of saying that. He was grown-up enough to know about sex, no matter how much Percy teased him about being innocent, but he was pretty sure this was different — and somehow so much weirder. He couldn’t help but think it’d be more ordinary if he were just horny, like any other teenager, but… was it normal to feel so warm just from touching his arm, from brushing their fingers together? Was regular, physical contact really supposed to feel like fireworks going off in his chest? 

Leo smiled, and that felt like fireworks, too. “Nah,” he said flippantly. “Maybe you just weren’t enough of a challenge.”

“Okay, now that’s too far, you little shit.” 

Frank’s playful punch to Leo’s shoulder was reciprocated with a smack to his already sore arms. They ended up wrestling on the ground, hitting and kicking with no real force.

When he held Leo to his chest, arms wrapped around his waist in a tight grip, Leo giggled and flailed and slapped at Frank’s back uselessly. He laid his head on Leo’s chest, laughed into his shirt and listened to the rhythm of his heartbeat, and hoped Leo would develop a spontaneous need to spar sometime soon again.

They’d adjusted to living together surprisingly well. 

Frank’s house was the messiest it had ever been, but he found it oddly comforting, having to step over machines and wires scattered over the ground and tidying the beds every other morning. There were rare times where Leo beat him to going to sleep, where a training session ran late or the paperwork was a little too much that day, and Frank came home to him sleeping curled up in his blankets, snoring faintly into his pillow.

It was a nice, warm feeling, seeing Leo like that. Vulnerable and comfortable, in front of Frank, like he trusted him. And every time it took all of Frank’s self-control to stop himself from brushing Leo’s hair out of his eyes and kissing his forehead, soft and gentle.

Okay, so maybe he had a problem. One he desperately needed to get over, lest he drive Leo away again.

Which was why, when he entered the house, Frank swore to himself that he wouldn’t even think about it. Though, did it count if he was thinking about it now? Technically, he wasn’t, he was just… thinking about thinking about it. 

He checked the time. A little past midnight. Way too late for his brain to be working too hard.

After kicking off his shoes and hanging his cloak on the wall hanger, Frank crept toward the bedroom. Get his clothes, shower, change, get into bed. Simple enough game plan, and none of the steps required looking at Leo. In theory. Yet for some reason whenever he crept into the room, dark and still, his eyes couldn’t help but gravitate toward the shape under the blankets.

Taking a deep breath, Frank slowly opened the door. What he found on the other side, though, was an entirely different problem.

Leo was sitting on the windowsill. Not exactly uncommon… when it wasn’t twelve at night. Even when Leo was still up at this time and Frank had to wrangle him into sleeping (and occasionally failed), Leo had been working. Whether it was correcting Annabeth’s blueprints or poring over a book or clanking away at a hunk of metal, he’d always be doing something . At least those times Frank could go to sleep knowing Leo would be too focused to go anywhere.

(Was that a real fear of his? That he’d wake up one day, and Leo would be gone? After all, some days Frank wasn’t sure whether Leo was still real, still alive, still here. Or whether he’d imagined it, and Leo really had died that night, exploded into a million tiny sparks and a golden sky.)

As it stood, Leo wasn’t doing anything now. He wasn’t even fidgeting with anything. The only sign of life was the slow rise and fall of his chest and the soft tapping of his fingers against the sill. And the turn of his head when Frank stepped forward.

Something gleamed on his cheeks. Tears.

“What happened?” Instantly he was moving across the room, unable to hide the worry on his face. “Why are you crying? What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” Leo must have known it was an awful lie, by the way he winced as he said it. “I’m fine, it’s stupid. Just get ready for bed. I’ll — I’ll sleep too, if that’s what you want.”

Convincing Leo to go to sleep was an absolutely painstaking effort, but while it was tempting, it wouldn’t make whatever it was that was bothering Leo go away. So instead Frank took another step toward the window and said, “that’s not what I asked.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Leo shook his head, turning back to window. “Dumbass,” he said, sounding more exasperated than actually angry. “Why do you always have to care so much?”

Because you saved me, Frank wanted to say. Because Leo had saved them all, completely fine with the fact that it could have been at the cost of his own life. Because he’d waved goodbye at Frank back then as if they’d see each other in a minute, as if he’d find his way back eventually no matter what it took.

Because… because Leo had smiled at him that day, sincere for the first time, and Frank had never seen anything even half as beautiful.

He didn’t say that. Instead he leaned, sitting against the sill next to Leo, who pointedly didn’t look at him. “I was just thinking.” A vague sentence, considering Leo was overthinking nearly everything all the time, but it was a start. “I’ve changed a lot. From when I was young. And I guess it… it’s not like I’m sad about it, I just wonder…”

His voice stopped, as if it the words had lodged in his throat. A second later he made a sound like an aborted sob and shuffled further away from Frank, pressing his forehead against the glass. “What do you mean? Is this about…?”

“Yeah,” Leo said, seemingly knowing what Frank had been intending to say even if Frank himself hadn’t. “I mean, it’s not just the fact that I’m a guy now. It’s everything. And this, too.” He gestured to the metal of his arm and face. “And I wonder if I… well, never mind.” A wet laugh. “You’ll think it’s dumb.”

“Of course I won’t,” Frank said, feeling a little like he was coaxing a cat out of its hiding place. Leo was certainly fluffy enough to be one. He just wished earning his trust was as easy as earning a cat’s. “You can tell me. And I won’t tell anyone else.”

Something in Leo’s face softened. When he scooted just an inch closer, their fingers brushing together on the window ledge, Frank’s heart skipped a beat. “I guess I just wonder, sometimes. Whether I’m still the same person my mother loved.”

The words hit Frank like a blow straight to the chest. When he opened his mouth, no sound came out — he knew all too well what it was like to grasp onto memories long gone, to hold onto a love that you couldn’t even feel anymore. How the question with no answer became all the more torturous as time marched on: would you still love me if you were here, now, today?

For Frank the question was hard. But when it came to Leo… “You are,” Frank said, gentle but firm, because he knew it for certain. “I didn’t know you back then, and I didn’t know her either, but if she’s as good as a person as you say… then it’d be impossible for her not to love you.”

Leo let out a disbelieving laugh. Frank frowned and turned to look at him, still staring out the window, eyes distant like he could see something beyond the black night sky. 

“Do you think she’d love me if she knew I killed her?” He asked, and despite the smile carved on his face, his voice cracked. Frank could tell he was struggling not to break down and cry. Always trying to be strong, infallible, like nothing could hurt him. Like he was a machine that could take anything and walk it off because he was tough. 

Sometimes even machines needed a break. “I think…” Frank finally broke his own promise and leaned forward to look at Leo properly, hand outstretched to sweep his hair out of his eyes. “I think she loved you until the very end, Leo. Enough to know that it wasn’t your fault. And enough to know that you still love her even now.”

“Ha.” The smile on Leo’s face seemed a lot more genuine now. There was something relieved or hopeful about it, like maybe he could believe Frank’s words if he really tried. “You think she can feel it?”

Frank couldn’t bring himself to take his hand away from Leo’s cheek. “Yeah. Because… because you’re still Leo. Boy or girl, metal or flesh. It’s still you. And she loves you.”

“It’s funny.” Leo didn’t seem to mind it either. Maybe it was Frank’s imagination, but when he laughed tiredly, he pushed his cheek into Frank’s palm just a little more. His hand was gigantic compared to Leo’s face, his fingers criss-crossing against the bridge of his nose and the edge of his eyes. “Logically I know you’re full of shit, but for some reason, I feel like I should trust you on this. Stupid, huh?”

“Well, I’ll be waiting,” Frank said softly. He tucked Leo’s hair behind his ear and convinced himself he wasn’t really seeing the blush that spread across Leo’s face at the action. He was tired and he didn’t want to do anything stupid. And maybe because he wouldn’t be able to handle the implications of it anyhow. “Until you know it like I do.”

“Idiot,” Leo whispered, but all the upset from before had dissipated, leaving Leo’s usual, if somewhat exhausted, self. “I don’t know whether you’re the idiot for talking about stuff you don’t know about, or whether I’m the idiot for letting you tell it to me. Leaning to the former, because I’m always right, y’know?”

Ah, they were back on track. Frank didn’t mind this, as long as Leo wasn’t putting on an act again. He wasn’t a people person — he could never tell. But he trusted Leo, in a way Leo probably didn’t trust him , and though it hurt he couldn’t get himself to stop. Not since that day in the underground workshop when Frank had awoken to Leo standing over him, eyes afraid but alive.

So when Leo nudged him with that playful grin on his face, goading him into a sarcastic reply or a knock it off or even just a simple roll of his eyes, Frank couldn’t help but oblige.

“Yes, yes, you’re a genius and you always come up with the best of ideas,” Frank quipped, stretching and abruptly realising how tired he’d been before talking to Leo. He hadn’t even taken off his belt or armour. “Now can we go to bed?”

To his horror, Leo also stretched, now looking more energetic than ever. “Nah. Don’t feel like it. Let’s go to that 24-hour cafe, I’m in the mood for some coffee.” When he saw the look on Frank’s face, he poked his cheek, over and over again like a persistent cat asking to be played with. “I won’t even bully you for getting the sugary stuff.”

“I’m lactose intolerant, I don’t have that many options,” Frank whined the same explanation he’d been giving for weeks before realising he was arguing against the wrong thing. “Leo, it’s one in the morning. And you want to leave the camp for coffee?”

“Hey, I’ll go on my own if you’re going to be such a baby about it,” Leo sniffed. 

The teasing in his tone made Frank reconsider. He wasn’t that tired. He’d gone nights without sleeping before, and he’d been (relatively) fine the next day. Besides, the idea of drinking something warm with Leo, watching him ramble about something Frank didn’t understand, letting Leo bully him like a twelve year old while trying to act like it bothered him… it did sound kind of nice right now. 

When Leo looked at him expectantly, as if he already knew he had him, Frank sighed and gave in. “Let me get dressed,” he muttered. “But if I’m dead on my feet at assembly, it’s your fault.”

They went, dressed in normal mortal clothes. The streets were quiet but bright, lit up by street lamps and neon signs, and Frank even let Leo get away with driving a little too fast; maybe because he enjoyed the rush of it all, too. Or maybe it was Leo that was giving him the rush, sitting by his side and looking alive.

If Frank tried hard enough, he could pretend they were normal kids. A world where everything was okay and they had long lives ahead of them and neither of them had to wonder whether they’d grown out of love.

But, well, this wasn’t all bad. Sweet coffee and the pale sunrise and the sound of Leo’s voice — that was good enough for Frank.

“Hey, you.” 

A tug at his shirt. “The name’s Frank,” Frank said absent-mindedly. Another tug. He turned around to see Leo, holding two mugs full of drink, smiling that catty smile at him. “Is that for me?”

“No, it’s for the ghosts living in our house,” Leo said, rolling his eyes. Despite the sass, the sound of him saying our house made the corner of Frank’s lips twitch into a smile. Sure, he was just calling it what it was, but it was nice for some reason. “Yes, it’s for you, dumbass.”

“Oh, thanks.” It wasn’t coffee like he’d expected, but tea, light and clear. The mug was still warm, but not scalding hot enough that it hurt to touch. He sipped cautiously, a little afraid of it being a prank, and — holy shit . That was good. “This is amazing! What is it?”

Leo clapped his hands together like an excited seal. “Citrus and oolong! I made it myself. A genius like me isn’t just confined to magic with machinery, y’know,” he said, flexing his arms. Frank wanted to say that he didn’t have to go out of his way to brag about that, considering he’d seen Leo cook and play instruments before, but he held his tongue.

Tilting his head, Frank narrowed his eyes at Leo, trying to make it look like he was just enjoying the tea. Because something was off about him. He looked… jittery, overflowing with more energy than usual, even if he did a pretty good job acting like his usual aggravating self. His eyes flickered back and forth from the tea to Frank’s face, and he hadn’t even begun to drink his own tea. It sat in his hands, steaming away untouched, and Frank almost felt sorry for it.

For a while, Frank continued working on his paperwork, watching Leo meander around the room. Occasionally he would stop to say something about one of his projects, or lean over Frank’s shoulder and bully him for his bad handwriting, but it felt more like dialogue Frank would hear from a video game NPC than a real life person. Even when he talked about his machines his voice fell flat, like he was talking about something that didn’t particularly excite him.

Which was unnerving.

No, more than that. It was horrific. Frank didn’t know what was going on, but he never wanted to hear Leo sound so dead and stilted ever again, especially not when he was talking about something that usually ignited enough passion in him to match a thousand gods. 

It had been so relieving, that day in the field when Leo had come back and grinned at all of them like he’d pulled the biggest prank of the decade. Because that grin meant he wasn’t just living, but alive — that truly nothing could break him, and Frank was the fool for underestimating him.

“What’s wrong with you?” Frank finally blurted out, before registering how mean that sounded when Leo looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “You’re acting… weird. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but…” It’s creepy. He left that unsaid. 

“You caught me,” Leo said lightly, but there was something rougher under words, something nervous and displeased. “And here I thought I was acting good enough to win an Oscar. You’re right, I — uh, want to tell you something. But I’m…”

Frank raised his eyebrow. “Scared?”

That worked the way Frank had intended, Leo puffing up with pride while some of the tension in his shoulders released. “Me? Please. Unlike some crybabies, I’m pretty tough.” He looked pointedly at Frank, who smiled at him. They both knew out of the two of them, the crybaby wasn’t Frank, and it showed in the way the corners of Leo’s lips twitched. The barely-concealed amusement faded away after a moment though, leaving Leo looking weirdly somber. He nodded to Frank. “Hey, I’m getting up on the roof.”

“The roof?” Frank asked. “Of the house?”

“Yeah,” Leo said, finally taking a sip of his own tea before walking out of the bedroom; presumably to climb up the ladder to the roof, letting Frank sit with the words. Him and his pile of paperwork. “See ya,” he added, as if he knew Frank would come.

A second later, he was gone. If Leo had something to say, then it was better to go sooner than later, that was for sure. But at the same time there was something twisting itself unpleasantly in the pit of Frank’s stomach, making him feel sick even as he got up and opened the window to let some fresh air in. His thoughts began to race, overthinking as he usually did when he didn’t have anything to busy himself with.

The awkward look on his face, the tight smile… maybe he’d finally noticed how Frank shivered when he pressed their shoulders together, how he pressed his fingers against Leo’s for a little longer than necessary when he handed him something. And maybe that made Leo uncomfortable — weirded him out, he would say, Frank could almost hear it — when it was with a guy like Frank. With a guy, period.

Or maybe it was worse. His mind took a wrong turn, leading him down a darker path that Frank couldn’t help but imagine. Maybe Leo was dying . Maybe the death he’d evaded hadn’t actually been evaded at all, and in reality it was more than just instantaneous injuries, took its time killing him from the inside.

He buried his face in his hands, hoping the cool leather of his gloves would soothe him. It did not. Frank groaned, guilt and concern piling up in his heart.

Just go talk to him, idiot, the logical voice in his head said. But the painful feeling that had taken root in his chest and stomach refused to let him move past the windowsill. 

“Hey, stupid,” Leo’s voice called out, faint from the distance but loud enough to be heard. Frank looked up as if he could see them, but he didn’t need to — he could already picture that soft, crooked grin. “Stop overthinking. You look dumb when you do it.”

Finally Frank brought himself to move, shoulders shaking as he laughed. As if Leo’s voice alone had liberated him, saved him from his own thoughts. Well, Leo was always saving him, wasn’t he? 

It only took a few seconds to fly up to the roof once he gathered the courage. He settled down next to Leo, sweeping feathers off his cloak. One landed in Leo’s hair, and Leo pretended not to notice Frank running his fingers through his hair as he brushed it off. “You know me so well, don’t you,” Frank said, and it was meant to come out as a joke, but it sounded disgustingly fond.

“Hard to forget when you look like a loser all the time,” Leo shot back, and Frank was relieved at how they slipped easily back into this, even if he didn’t miss the way Leo kept tapping out a pattern on the roof’s surface, the way he only did when he was nervous. He looked at the sky, where the sun was slowly dipping toward the horizon. “It’s nice.”

Frank blinked, only realising what Leo was talking about after a moment. “Yeah,” he said uncertainly, not sure where this was going. “It is. Pretty.”

I can name something — someone — even prettier though , he thought. He didn’t say it, because of course he didn’t.

Leo sighed and looked down at his hands, where they were entwined together. His eyes flickered around, from the roof’s shingles to Frank then back to his hands, as if searching for what to say. Finally, he seemed to decide. “I’m leaving.”

A pang to Frank’s heart, painful and reverberating, like a plucked guitar string. He knew that this wouldn’t last forever. After all, Camp Jupiter wasn’t Leo’s home, and it never had been. The domesticity, the all-nighters together, the steaming hot coffee; it had all been excruciatingly temporary, a fleeting moment in their short lives no matter how lovely it’d been.

But it wasn’t as if he’d never see Leo again. He wanted Leo to be at home, to have a big bunker of space to do his work without having to worry about shattering windows or burning the paint off the walls. At Camp Half-Blood he’d fit in, wouldn’t have to worry about the skeptical glances or the judgemental, awful senators.

“I… okay,” Frank said, not sure what else to say. It took a moment for him to speak past the rising bile in his throat. “I’m sure Camp Half-Blood will be glad to see you return.”

The grin on his face was almost unnerving. “Really? You think that?” He said, like he knew something Frank didn’t, which he mostly always did because he was Leo. But he never lorded it over Frank like this, his smile never nearly as strained or cruel, no matter how mean he was feeling. “Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not going back to Camp Half-Blood.”

“What? So where are you going?” Frank asked, though he had a feeling he already knew, if the growing dread in his stomach was anything to go by.

“Dunno.” Leo swung his legs back and forth off the roof casually, as if they were having a light conversation. Frank’s heart definitely didn’t agree. “Just away. Don’t worry… maybe I’ll come back.”

Frank didn’t like the uncertainty in that sentence. He tried to understand, tried to make himself accept Leo whatever his decision was, but apparently for all his goodness he couldn’t find it in himself to be the least bit happy. “But why?”

“I’m a free spirit, Zhang.”

Another deflection, another joke. Leo must have noticed the frustration and hurt pass Frank’s face, because his eyebrows furrowed, mouth twisting into a scowl. “Ugh, take that dumb look off your face. I hate it when you look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like some kicked fucking puppy! It — it makes it hard to —” his breath hitched, “lie to you,” he finished, rubbing his face with his hands tiredly.  “I was hoping you would make this easy for me.”

Maybe if it were any other situation, Frank would feel bad knowing he was the cause of that pained look on Leo’s face. As it were, all it did was make him frustrated. “You thought you’d just tell me suddenly that you were going to run away to nowhere and expected me to — what? Sit down and take it without any questions? I’m just worried for you.”

“Well, don’t be. I’m not weak, you know,” Leo said, voice even but ever so slightly pissed. The accusatory tone made Frank frown. Did Leo really think Frank saw him that way? The same way he’d seen Leo when they first met? So much had happened since then, so many new feelings , yet it seemed that to Leo that didn’t matter at all. 

“It’s not that I think you’re weak. I know you’ll be able to survive. ” Despite the fluttering in his gut that told him this was a very bad idea, Frank drew in closer, as if Leo would believe him the closer he got. Or maybe that was just his own excuse for himself, for his own selfish wants that necessitated moving until they were face-to-face, until their hands were so close on the roof they nearly touched. “But I want you to live, too.”

This seemed to stun Leo, who looked at Frank with wide eyes and a tic in his eyebrow, as if he were wondering where exactly Frank had gotten all this audacity. “What do you mean? Don’t think I can be happy without all of you?”

Still, his voice wasn’t very convincing, the way it trembled on the word happy, the remorse that showed on his face even if only for a moment. “Please,” Frank whispered, as if that would convince him, “tell me why you’re leaving. And be honest this time.”

“When you look at me like that, I feel like I don’t have a choice,” Leo laughed. Humourless, bitter. “I should hate that about you. But for some reason, I don’t.” Frank stayed silent even if he so badly wanted to ask what that meant, for fear that Leo would take the chance to deflect once more. After a moment Leo seemed to recognise that Frank wasn’t going to talk until he answered the question, and sighed. “I don’t want to be around any of you anymore. That’s why.”

“Any of us,” Frank repeated, an unsaid question.

“You know. All my… friends.” The word seemed to cause Leo physical pain. He laid down on the roof, black hair splayed out and glowing with golden lines in the light of the setting sun. It made him look pretty, almost ethereal, and Frank’s heart ached at the thought of not being able to see this ever again. “I realised something. I don’t belong here.”

He almost assumed that by here he meant Camp Jupiter, but knowing what he’d said, that didn’t make any sense. Frank wished he could understand Leo — wished he could see into Leo’s head like Leo seemed to see into his. “What do you mean? Here, as in?”

“In the sun,” Leo said through gritted teeth, which definitely wasn’t an answer Frank had been expecting. If he’d even been expecting anything at all… “All domestic and normal and happy. It’s not me. That’s not my life, it’s — it’s never been. Walking around like I’m a good person, pretending I’m whole. It’s not right. It’s not…” He sucked in a breath and covered his eyes with his arm. “ Not right. ”

“Of course you’re a good person.” In the back of his mind Frank wondered whether this had something to do with his mother, whether he’d ended up blaming himself yet again for her death despite what he’d said. Maybe Frank wasn’t the person he’d needed to hear it from. “You don’t think you deserve happiness?”

“It’s not about what I deserve. But every day here is hell. I hate it when Hazel offers to teach me how to ride and thanks for me for helping out in the stables. I hate it whenever Annabeth Iris messages to ask for advice on her projects. I hate it whenever Jason and Pipes call and tell me…” He sat up, drawing his knees up to his chest. Yet Frank could clearly see the tears glisten in his eyes, ready to fall like a dam about to break. “They tell me they love me. And the way they say it makes it sound like they mean it.”

So close. Leo was so close to getting it. Frank wondered how someone so smart could be so blind to what was right in front of him, but he recalled what Leo had told him about his past. What everyone believed about him, so intensely that maybe somewhere along the way Leo had started to believe it too.

The world was a cruel place, Frank thought. He’d realised it before, long before they’d even met, but it came to him again now, looking at Leo sniffling beside him. Why did someone like him have to suffer so much?

“Because they do mean it,” Frank said, even though he knew Leo would just give him that skeptical look of his. And he did. “Lots of people love you. Hazel, Annabeth, Jason, Piper — they do all these things for you, with you, because they love you.” 

And I love you too, he would’ve said, but just the thought of speaking it out loud made Frank’s gut twist. It was too close to a truth he really, really didn’t want to admit. 

“Ha.” Leo finally moved his arm, letting Frank see his face. His eyes were red-rimmed and tired, and his lips were curved into a frown, but for some reason he still looked beautiful. “Yeah? Because I saved their lives? Because I’m good with maths and machines and I’m useful sometimes? I know no one actually likes me, it’s fine, I’ve always known —”

“You’re dumb,” Frank said, and Leo looked at him with wide eyes, mouth dropped slightly open. It felt good to surprise him. “You think I pull all-nighters going to a cafe with you and make an ass out of myself in front of Reyna in the morning just to get free coffee? That I listen to you just because I’ve got nothing else to do?” He looked up at him, brows furrowed, frustration seeping into his voice. “Or did you know, and it just didn’t mean anything to you?”

It all lead back to this, didn’t it. Even as his mind told him not to say it, not to reveal too much, the words came to him surprisingly easy. Like he’d been waiting for a long time to say them, like they’d been a long time coming. Maybe they had been.

“Don’t say that shit,” Leo snapped, his voice cracking. “You’re so honest, it’s annoying, did you know that? I wish you’d lie sometime. Then it wouldn’t be so easy to believe you.”

“I’m telling the truth.” Frank got to his feet, his boots grinding into the roof. “Believe me, then, because I’m being honest. I know you think you’re a bad person, but nobody else thinks that. And certainly not me, because I’ve seen firsthand —”

A vial, a prophecy, a blazing explosion that turned the whole sky the brilliant shade of ichor; that sweet, sad smile that accompanied it, grim but honest —

“Because I’ve seen firsthand how kind you are. Even if you like to pretend you aren’t.” Leo was on his feet now too, in an attempt to level with Frank, even though it was a fruitless effort. Even on the slanted roof he only came up to Frank’s neck. The scowl on his face made up for it, though, deep and full of hatred. Frank pressed on despite it. “It’s fine if you want to leave, but at least leave because you want to. Not because you hate yourself. Leo…”

“ What. ”

“...Aren’t you happy here?”

For a moment, everything was silent. The quiet dragged on for what felt like years as Leo stared at him, some strange mixture of disdain and regret on his face. His lips were drawn into a tight line, metal fingers digging into the skin of his other arm so hard Frank worried he would bruise. 

“That’s exactly why I’m scared,” Leo said tightly. So I guess you are afraid of something. “Every time, I… every time I feel like I’m close to being real, I just want to run away again.” He wasn’t whispering, but there was something in his voice that made him sound small and pained, like a hurt animal. A dog caught in a trap. “It feels like I have no choice. That if I stay, something terrible is going to happen, and this time I won’t be able to stop it.”

This time, the words echoed, an implication hanging in the air somewhere. One that Frank wished he understood. “Something terrible? You’re afraid you’re going to hurt someone again?” Leo frowned, nodding slow and hesitant. “I’d stop you. You know that — you know I could stop you.”

“I’ve destroyed this place once,” he said, picking at the skin of his fingers. “Sure, I was possessed by some dumb ghosts, but I couldn’t even resist. Wasn’t even strong enough to fight back. And you…” He rubbed his fingers together as if to create a spark, a guilty look on his face.

“My firewood,” Frank said, and Leo nodded again. “Why are you afraid of hurting me when you’re the person who gave me this?” Reaching back, he unhooked his firewood pouch from his belt and held it up to Leo’s eyes. Leo shrunk back, looking at him with narrowed eyes. “You were on an luxurious vacation island with magical servants, and you thought of doing this for me. Did I ever say thank you for that? Leo, thank you.”

His fingers hovered over the pouch in Frank’s hands. Won’t burn, won’t open unless you want it to. He’d sounded so confident back then, so sure of himself despite Frank’s own skepticism, yet now Leo couldn’t even bring himself to touch it. Like it’d burst into flames immediately if he did.

“I’m strong, you know.” A year and a half ago Frank would have blanched at the idea of even saying that, but now he said it as confidently as he could, fingers twitching closer to Leo’s. “If you kill me, I’d kill you right back. Then we’re even. Promise.” 

“That’s stupid,” Leo sniffed, but he finally wrapped his hand around the pouch, feeling the soft material. But he didn’t move back, let his skin graze against Frank’s. Like this, Frank could move an inch, press his fingers against Leo’s wrist, feel his pulse. Maybe then he could know for sure that this was real. “It hurts. It hurts around people and it hurts when I’m alone. And it hurts when I’m with you. ”

Frank’s heart stuttered, but there wasn’t any anger in Leo’s voice. “Why?”

“Because I already —” Leo looked him dead in the eyes, frustrated but pleading, “— hurt someone I love before. And I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did it again.”

For a moment, time seemed to stop. Frank stared, unblinking, as he held his breath — and it felt like everything around him was holding its breath as well in anticipation. He wondered what he’d say to this, wondered how he’d put his foot in his mouth yet again.

But he didn’t. Thank God, he didn’t. Maybe for once his brain had decided to let Frank say what he really meant. Or maybe it was that look in Leo’s eyes that made Frank feel like he had the world on his shoulders.

“I’m in love with you,” he said, and strangely he didn’t feel any panic at the words. Especially not with Leo looking like the sun had dawned on his face. “And I know you would never hurt me. But even if you did — I’ll take you down with me. And even then I’ll still be in love with you. ‘Cause…” 

Because you’re amazing. Because your passion makes me feel a little more passionate about the world too. Because it feels like you always know what to do, even when you say you don’t. Because you saved my life that day, and the day before that, and the day before that. You’re always saving me.

He didn’t say any of that. Instead he said, “because… that day. When you came to say goodbye before we fought her. You smiled at me, and I could tell you meant it, and — don’t laugh, but — it was probably the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.”

Leo didn’t laugh. He didn’t even make a sound. Instead he reached up and wrapped his arms around Frank and buried his face in the crook of his neck, slim shoulders shaking, hands grabbing tight at Frank’s shirt. As if he were going anywhere. As if he would leave now that he’d gotten everything he’s wanted, Leo in his arms, wrapped around him, skin pressed against his. He was pleasantly warm in the cold evening air, and where his hands touched Frank’s back it felt like sparks. 

“I don’t want to leave,” he sniffed. “So why do I feel like I have to? Can you make it stop so I can — so I can stay here? In the sun?” A broken laugh as he pulled away, rubbing at his eyes. “I kind of like it here. Makes it feel like I can almost believe you when you say that.”

Almost.

“Just stay. That’s all I want,” Frank reassured him, wiping away the tears that streaked down his cheeks. His skin was soft, his metal smooth. He’d wanted to do that for a long time now. “I know it hurts. I — I don’t know how, I don’t know if I can make it better, but I’ll try my best. I love you, and I’ll say it until you do believe me.”

“Since you’re begging me,” Leo quipped, but it lacked any of his usual playfulness. Rather he sounded more affectionate than anything, a fondness that made Frank’s heart flutter. “Okay. I’ll stay. And I can really keep living with you?”

Frank laughed. What a stupid question. “You living with me is the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he said, and it wasn’t a lie. “I haven’t been able to be normal around you. Whenever you touch me, it feels… like I’m on fire. In a good way. Well, I do feel like I could die from it sometimes.”

“Don’t even joke about that.” Leo flushed. Those were some rare words to hear coming from his mouth. “You always did act weirder than usual, but I could never figure out why. Maybe ‘cause I was too nervous whenever we got close. Thank God you like it as much as I do. I’m not a weirdo…”

He murmured this sleepily against Frank’s cheek. Frank pressed even closer, if that was even possible, limbs tangled together. It was amazing that he could do this now without having to worry, that he could enjoy it freely like he would enjoy a nice sunny day or a bowl of ramen. Because Leo loved him back. Because Leo was just as weird as he was.

“Nah, you’re weird too.” The offended huff from Leo made Frank shiver. He could feel his breath on his cheek, his toned arms around his neck. “But we can be weird together. Don’t worry.” 

“Good enough for me.”

With that, he tilted his head up and pressed their lips together. He tasted like sweet tea and bitter smoke, and it was nice. Familiar. Frank had never kissed anyone like this before — like he really wanted it, like he needed it, like he’d die without it. Leo kissed like someone who didn’t really know what he was doing, and that was nice too. Every part of him was endearing.

His lips were soft, save for the edge of his mouth, where the metal reached to augment his face. Frank pushed their mouths together even harder, nearly ramming their noses together, consumed by the feeling of the cold surface against the rest of Leo’s warmth. The tickle of his hair felt like fairy wings, the feeling of their lips pressed together like gold molten sunshine.

It was a shame Frank had to breathe, because he would have stayed like that forever if he could have. But it was fine. Being able to hold Leo like this and to hear his shaky laugh when they pulled away, that was lovely enough already. They could kiss later. After all, if Frank tilted his head and lost himself in the feeling of gently brushing kisses onto his freckles, he could almost believe they had all the time in the world.

And when Leo gave a dreamy sigh and laid his head back on Frank’s shoulder, the stars beginning to twinkle above them swam across his vision.

They stayed like that long after the sun went down, after the sky’s last remnants of pink and orange faded into midnight blue. The moon was high in the sky, and the cold air blew through Frank’s hair, but he couldn’t feel the chill at all; not with Leo in his lap, in his arms, draped around him like he didn’t intend to ever let go. 

It came as a surprise to both of them when Frank slammed down his paperwork and said to Leo — declared it, really — “go on a date with me.”

“Huh,” Leo said from where he was curled up in their bed. Their bed, now, because as soon as they’d returned from that night on the roof Leo had pushed the two together and insisted that it stay that way. It struck Frank that it was probably kind of weird that they’d shared a bed before going on a date, but it wasn’t like they’d ever done things conventionally. “Now?”

“Yeah,” Frank said, before being hit by a wave of nervousness. “I mean, that is, if you want to — it’s cool if you’re not up for it or if you’re busy, but I have free time today, so…”

Leo laughed, a high and sweet sound. It used to be annoying, Frank recalled, but nowadays it sounded more like a melody he never wanted to end. “Chill out, I’ll go with you. I wanna go with you. Been a month and you still haven’t showed me around the city in full.”

“City is a stretch,” Frank admitted. New Rome was expanding by the day, but it was still a relatively small place. “Unless you really want to go into the actual city. Of Berkeley. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“No, I want to explore New Rome. About time, anyway.” Leo said, crossing his arms. He slid off the bed and threw open the closet, rifling through their clothes (they really had to make a better organising system) (and by they Frank meant Leo ) and tossing them over his shoulder.

And so it fell to Frank to pick them up and fold them again. “What are you doing? Don’t make a mess,” he chided, but it came out half-hearted. The sight of Leo digging around in their closet, in their home — the domesticity of all made Frank smile. 

Turning back, Leo levelled him with a glare. “This is our first date. I wanna look good!”

“Does it really matter? We already live together and sleep in the same bed,” Frank said. “Besides, there’s no point in a good ‘first’ impression. You dropped the ball on that some time ago. And I’ve seen you covered in soup, so.”

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t bring up the Pegasus Incident anymore,” Leo whined. He straightened, seemingly satisfied with the clothes bundled up in his arms, before narrowing his eyes at Frank in suspicion. “Well, at any rate, you haven’t seen me when I’m really trying! I’m pretty hot all the time, but trust me, you’ll be blown away by my beauty.”

I’m always blown away by your beauty, was what Frank thought, but what he said was, “ha. Sure. I’ll meet you outside the city, then.”

After Leo had slammed the bathroom door shut behind him, Frank stopped in front of the closet, tossing in the folded clothes. Leo hadn’t said anything about wanting Frank to dress up, but maybe he should — clearly this was special to Leo, even if he hid it underneath five layers of humour and falsified vanity. 

But he wasn’t sure what constituted dressing up . This obviously wasn’t a suit-and-tie occasion, but he probably shouldn’t show up wearing his armour or home clothes. Unfortunately, as gay as he was, Frank didn’t have an ounce of sense when it came to fashion. Mostly he threw on what looked like the plainest, least offensive clothes he could find, and hoped it would work.

Still, he had to try. If only to make Leo happy. He didn’t know exactly how much time he had before Leo was done, but by the busy shuffling heard from behind the bathroom door, he probably didn’t have much. After staring at the stacks of clothes he had, Frank settled on a short-sleeved turtleneck and a long pleated skirt. That was somewhat stylish. Probably. The skirt was one of the few fashionable things he had, so he hoped Leo wouldn’t decide to do anything too outrageous (though perhaps that was wishing for too much).

Throwing one last glance back at the bathroom door, which remained closed, Frank slipped on stockings and his boots. He looked ruefully at the way they clashed against the rest of his outfit and thought that maybe he ought to start caring about fashion more.

It was bright out, but not hot. Thankfully, they were nearing the tail end of autumn, the weather already turning cooler and windier. Winters were mild in California, making it the perfect time of the year to train relentlessly without worrying about the harsh summer heat, save for the occasional rainfall.

Everything detail made it a perfect day for a date. Not that it mattered, since that hadn’t been Frank’s motivations anyhow. He would’ve gone out with Leo in a heavy thunderstorm if Leo wanted.

No, his real motivations had been… well. While doing paperwork, Frank’s mind had begun to wander as it so often did, and he’d landed on everything that had happened after Leo came back. In hindsight, he’d probably been in love ever since that D-Day on the Argo II, but what had made him truly realise it was everything after that. Every brush of skin, every press of the shoulders or hands, every time they grew a little too close in distance for comfort.

Yet none of those times had ever been on purpose, had they? Sure, maybe Frank had indulged in himself just a few times — and maybe Leo had, too, now that Frank knew he felt the same — but it wasn’t as if he’d engineered situations specifically for them to touch. But that wasn’t the point of contention.

The real embarrassing part was that now that they were dating, Frank had no idea how to initiate that contact. As if before, if they accidentally came too close, touched for too long, they could pass it off as an awfully convenient accident. But now reaching out for Leo felt too daunting, too romantic. Like too much of a declaration.

What if Leo wasn’t ready yet? What if he preferred to initiate it rather than have it springed on him? Frank knew about his childhood, he’d seen the way Leo flinched at sudden movements. 

Making Leo uncomfortable was about the last thing Frank wanted to do right now, especially when everything felt so fragile. Every move, every word out of his mouth, felt like plunging his fingers into a silky spiderweb.

So if he did it by accident… it wasn’t as if either of them could get upset at sheer circumstance. And so Frank concluded that throughout all the mishaps they’d had, there was absolutely no way they could spend an entire day together and not get into a situation somewhere during. At this point, it was practically prophesied.

Confidence began to fill him as he waited outside of the gates to New Rome. Maybe they’d reach for the same plate at the same time, or one of them would trip and grab onto the other for support. Maybe their hands would brush in such a way so that they could transition into holding hands without being awkward. Frank sighed, embarrassingly dreamy, at the thought.

“What’s got you looking so happy?” A voice grumbled from behind him, and Frank was jolted out of his daydreaming. He turned to Terminus and gave his best Praetor smile.

“Nothing,” he said sweetly, which was the best way to piss Terminus off. “Aren’t I allowed to be happy, Terminus? I’ve got the honour of leading such a lovely populace. Not that I could do it without your help, of course.”

Terminus didn’t buy a word of it, and Frank bit back a laugh at the way his face contorted to show his skepticism. He opened his mouth to continue, but was interrupted by the sound of someone yelling an enthusiasti greeting.

Frank turned, mouth already open to say something in return, but — much like Terminus — he was cut silent. Not by a sound or another person, however, but rather the sight of Leo like this.

Maybe it was a little true what he’d said. The outfit he was wearing seemed so unlike him and yet at the same time fit him perfectly, the collar of his brown sweater askew on his shoulder and his jean shorts rolled up to mid-thigh. His hair was clipped back with a few pins, but the real masterpiece was the ponytail, curls bound up and settled onto the back of his head. Something about it made him look ten times cuter than usual.

“Er,” was all Frank could manage. He could feel Terminus smirking at his back, and that just made him blush even deeper. “You look nice.”

Was it his imagination, or did Leo look a little flustered too? “Thanks,” he said, fidgeting with the hair that framed his face (rather perfectly, if Frank said so himself). “I like your skirt.”

“Thanks.”

Silence.

…Broken by Terminus, who coughed loudly. “Young’uns,” he said with an air of disapproval, and for the first time in Frank’s life he was a little thankful for his loud, harsh voice. It did a good job of breaking the awkwardness, at the very least. “What, you don’t know how to court these days? Spare me. Those ten seconds were the most awful in my life!”

“Don’t lecture me when you still call it courting, old man,” Leo barked, attention redirected to Terminus. He marched up to the bust and said, “I bet you don’t even get any bitches!”

“Alright, let’s not talk about Terminus’ bitches, it’s none of our business,” Frank said hurriedly, because Terminus had a worryingly scrunched-up look on his face. If he hadn’t been made of marble, Frank thought he probably would’ve been turning red with anger. “Sorry our dating standards aren’t like yours, but you know what they say — time doesn’t stop, and Rome evolves with it, yes?”

This seemed to be enough for Terminus. He let them through after confiscating all their weapons, and Frank smiled fondly as Leo managed to persuade him into letting his toolbelt in. Soon they were strolling through the streets, gazing at store fronts and the decorations hanging from the trees, which rustled as the wind blew through.

As they passed a quaint-looking cafe, Leo tugged on his skirt. “Hey! In the mood for some coffee?” He asked, eyes glinting.

“Sure,” Frank said, even if he was already dreading how jittery he would get if he drank too much. Coffee tended to hit him harder than anyone else, though he was sure Leo didn’t know that, with how much he’d obliged whenever Leo invited him out to a cafe or other. He’d done a lot of things to spend more time with Leo… which was pretty pathetic in hindsight.

The inside of the cafe was cozy, fairy lights strung up from the ceiling and paintings framed on the walls. A tree trunk cut through the middle of the room, its branches stretching out below the ceiling and framing everything in foliage and wood. Even the couches, shades of green and brown, seemed attuned to nature.

“Whoa.” Leo crouched down, running his fingers along the hole in the floor that allowed for the tree to grow in. “This is some amazing building. You see how the walls are curved? The structure’s following the shape of the trees surrounding it. It makes the building large without interrupting the growth of the plants outside. That’s hella awesome.”

By the way his eyes were shining Frank could’ve sworn someone had put the stars in them. It was this passion, this excitement, that made Frank want to give him everything he wanted to keep them there. To keep him unapologetically, earnestly happy.

(Even if he had no idea what he was talking about sometimes.)

“I’m glad you noticed. We here at Cerelia Cafe care a lot about the ecosystem,” a soft, smooth voice rang out from behind the counter. The woman manning it had wavy brown hair and droopy eyes, and according to the tag on her chest her name was Diane. “How can I help you?”

Though Frank was sure Leo cared less about preserving nature than he did about the impressive architecture, Leo beamed at her as he scanned the menu above her head. “What do you think looks good?” He asked, and it took Frank a moment to realise Leo was talking to him. He’d been too busy looking at his hair, the way it bounced as Leo moved his head, the way it left his neck exposed…

“The chocolate chip drink looks good,” Frank said weakly. “I’m lactose intolerant, so…”

“No worries!” Dinah chirped. “We have lots of lactose intolerant alternatives for milk! Do you want to get the big size? It’s cheaper than getting two separate normal sizes, but you’re going to have to —” she gave Frank a strange, almost knowing look, “— share.”

All of a sudden that look made sense. The thought of sharing a drink with Leo, like some kind of couple, leaning over the table and drinking from the same glass… and Leo’s eyes would flicker up from the glass up to Frank, wide and dark. They’d be so close together, so close their noses almost touched — and when Leo’s hair came loose from its clip Frank would reach out and tuck it away and run his fingers along the side of Leo’s face…

“Well, I do love saving money,” Leo said thoughtfully.

“ My money,” Frank snipped, though they both knew it was practically Leo’s as well at this point, considering how much Frank was willing to throw away to get Leo anything he wanted. Besides, it wasn’t like it mattered that much in New Rome. “But, well, order whatever you want.”

Leo shot him a smile. “Heh. I guess I’ll go with the large drink, then.” Frank’s heart skipped a beat. “Y’know, since I’m such a kind person. Can I get the low-sugar cookies too? Thanks!”

He turned to look at Frank patiently, and Frank sighed, though he couldn’t help the smile growing on his face as well. Taking out his wallet, Frank took out the appropriate amount of coins and placed them on the counter. Diane counted and put them away, before turning around with a flourish and giving them a smile.

 “Your order will be ready in five minutes. Why don’t you take a seat first? It’s a rather empty day today, so you can choose any you’d like. The ones in the corners are nice if you want some… privacy.”

Frank, who had been looking around in search of a table, almost snapped his neck looking back at Diane in shock at her comment. She laughed a little too deviously for her liking, but Leo didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary — how?! — and instead nodded gratefully, clapping his hands together softly. That was something he did when he was feeling especially cheery, and every time he did it Frank wanted to die from how cute it was.

“Nice! Let’s go.” Leo bounced over to the corner seats, stacked to the brim with plush pillows, and so soft Frank almost sank in a foot when he sat down. Leo laughed, sinking himself in as well and burying himself under the pillows. “This place is comfy.”

“Don’t get too comfortable. This isn’t your — our home,” Frank said, even though he secretly agreed.

“Lighten up a little, big guy.” Leo was already utilizing his pillow fort creation skills, setting them up in such a way so he could sit cross-legged in the middle as if in a hut. Frank tried to sidle up to him, but he seemed too distracted with fluffing up the pillows and couch to notice, leaving Frank feeling a little lame.

Well, it wasn’t like it really mattered. He was sure that some miraculous, completely coincidental situation requiring physical contact would pop up soon. 

A few minutes later, Diane appeared in front of them, carrying a huge glass of chocolate chip milkshake and a few cookies stacked on a plate. She placed them down gently, grinning at Frank as she left, like she knew something he didn’t. Did no one in New Rome have any respect for Praetors anymore? 

Tentatively, Frank took a sip of the shake, eyes widening as the flavour filled his mouth. It was delightfully sweet, just like he liked his drinks, and the almond milk didn’t ruin the taste at all. The bitterness of the chocolate was just enough to balance it out too. 

“You’ve got to try this.”

“Is it that good?” Leo put down the cookie he’d been nibbling and examined the drink, as if it were a puzzle to figure out. Frank nodded as he leaned forward and placed another straw in the glass, directly opposite to his own. “Hm, if you like it, that means it’s either really bad or really good.”

He leaned in at the same time Frank did, lips closing around the straw. Frank felt something in him hum, like a pleased dog. They grew even closer as Leo took a sip, eyelashes fluttering, and Frank drew even closer as well, wanted to lessen the distance between them even more. Yes, it was this familiar feeling that Frank loved. Just a little more and he would be close enough to touch, to kiss without even having to move his body. Close enough to see how pretty he was up close, from his brown skin to his curly hair to his eyes scrunched up in disgust —

Disgust?

“Ew!” Leo yelped, jolting back from the drink as if it had hurt him, the details of his face gone from Frank’s eyes. He lowered his voice, sniffing in disdain as he raised another cookie to his mouth and chewed on it as if to cleanse his mouth. “This is so gross. Ugh. You can have it all. Way too sweet for me.”

Frank must’ve looked crushed, and he hoped Leo would think it was because of his distaste for the drink rather than the fact that they were now a normal distance apart, sitting on opposite sides of the wooden table. He regretted adding that second straw, all to fulfill his own daydreaming. Why had he done that? If they’d used the same one it’d at least be an indirect kiss…

“You sure you don’t want another try?” Frank offered weakly, tipping the glass toward Leo. “This is a lot, you know.” 

“I’m sure you can finish it. Want a cookie?” He waved it in front of Frank’s face. It felt a bit like mockery, but it did look good, so Frank readily accepted the (admittedly very tasty) pity treat.

Leo talked animatedly as he went through his plate of cookies, and soon the humiliation from before washed away, replaced with the familiar warmth Frank got in his chest whenever he listened to Leo talk. He could listen to him ramble for ages when he was like this, eyes sparkling brightly enough it seemed to chase away the dark shadows under them. 

It was always Leo that did most of the talking, but he didn’t seem to mind. He never ran out of things to say, and he was so smart, too, a million times smarter than Frank. So much so that at times Frank wondered whether Leo even got anything out of having a conversation with him.

(When he asked, Leo smiled and said that it humbled him. Reminds me that not everyone’s blessed with intelligence, he said, that fake condescension in his voice. Frank laughed, partly at the joke, partly at the memory that he’d once believed it to be real.)

But Leo laughed at his jokes, and brightened whenever he said something, and grinned whenever he called the annoying unnamed girl in his story a bitch, so it couldn’t have been all bad. Besides, Frank loved Leo’s voice far more than he liked his own.

Once Frank was done with his drink, they left the cafe, Leo chattering all the while. It was darker but not quite evening yet, that wonderful cool in-between where the sun was still high up in the sky but the sky was already dimming as if in preparation. Leo seemed to enjoy it too, skipping along the streets, hair coming loose and blowing all over his face.

“Where to next?” He asked. 

“Dunno. You’re the boss,” Frank said, shrugging. Leo seemed to like this answer, because he flashed Frank a smile and led him further into the city, humming as he walked.

Frank couldn’t tear his eyes away from Leo even as they ventured through the familiar streets. His sweater was ill-fitting, collar falling off his shoulder and revealing the strap of his binder. He contemplated reaching out and fixing it, skimming his fingers across the junction of Leo’s metal neck and shoulder, but Leo caught him staring before he could even move his hand.

“It’s a choice,” he said defensively, softly pulling the fabric of the sweater down further his arm even more. “Haven’t you ever heard about fashion? Well, I guess not, since you look like… well, you, all the time. To be honest, I was surprised when you turned up today with a regular person outfit.”

Now it was Frank’s turn to be defensive, trying to think about what he wore most days and why exactly it didn’t qualify as regular. “What’s wrong with how I dress? The armour’s important, you know! It — it commands respect! It’s like a uniform!”

Leo’s shoulders shook, and it took Frank a moment to realise he was laughing, mouth open wide in a smile behind his hand. “Okay, I get it. But why don’t you ever take it off? Even at home, you still dress like that. Who’s going to attack? The coffee cups?”

“First of all,” Frank said, feeling increasingly flustered at the sight of Leo laughing so freely, “ambushes are possible. I’m not weird just because I don’t want to wear sweatpants at home.”

“Oh, so you do have normal clothes.”

“Yes! You’ve seen me wear them! ” 

At this, Leo doubled over laughing once more. Frank couldn’t really see what was funny — he dressed like a respectable Praetor should, thank you very much, and it didn’t hurt to be careful — but he couldn’t help but chuckle a little at how Leo looked, flushed cheeks and sweet smile. It felt good to make Leo laugh. Actually, it felt good to make him feel nice in general.

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I think it makes you look hot,” he said casually, and Frank nearly choked on his own saliva. Unfortunately, Leo was already moving on to turn a corner, as if expecting Frank to just be normal about what he’d just said. When Frank caught up, Leo just stared at his red face blankly, his twitching lips the only sign that Frank hadn’t dreamed the last twenty seconds.

God, he really could be annoying sometimes. 

(Frank made a mental note to flirt with him more, because clearly Leo needed a taste of his own medicine.)

They passed a few more shops, boots tapping against the pavement. Leo was closer now than he had been before, so close that their arms brushed, the way they’d walk if Leo had his arms wrapped around Frank’s own, his head on Frank’s shoulder. He was at the perfect height for that, as Frank had imagined so many times.

Or… in a different scenario… it was also the perfect distance for hand-holding. Even now Frank could feel the tips of his fingers skim against Leo’s. It would be so easy to reach out, to twine their fingers together, let Leo rock their arms back and forth energetically as they walked. He wouldn’t even care if Leo’s hand got sweaty, wouldn’t mind if it was too warm to touch or on the other side too cold. Because if they were holding hands that meant they were holding hands , like a real couple, like lovers, like boyfriends.

Who loved each other, and made it obvious, through the sweaty and awkward skin-on-skin, the mundane but vital experience of touch. How commonplace the gesture was, yet how sweet its meaning. I don’t want to go another second without your touch. 

Maybe Frank should stop fantasizing about it and start doing it.

After all, they were a “real couple” at this point. Even if it hadn’t been for long. It was completely normal to hold your boyfriend’s hand, and even if Leo didn’t like it wasn’t as if he would make things go sour.

He had just begun tilting his wrist, splaying open his fingers to fit perfectly in the crevices between Leo’s, when the other stopped and raised his hand to point at something — up and out of Frank’s range, his hand left hanging pathetically at his side.

Damn. So close, so far.

“Know how to skate?” Leo asked playfully, and Frank directed his attention to what exactly had torn this perfect hand-holding opportunity away from him. An ice-skating rink. It had only been built recently, one of many in the sudden rise of entertainment and time-killing activities in New Rome, and Frank had never been, despite being the one to sponsor the public facility.

“I’m from Canada,” Frank replied, looking pointedly at Leo. “What, do you?” 

The responding grin on Leo’s face was rather ominous. “I mean, I was pretty good at it when I was young, but it’s been a while. Bet I’m still better than you, though.”

Though he didn’t want to admit it, it had been a while for Frank too. After all, fighting a war and ruling a city-state didn’t leave much time for ice-skating. But he couldn’t be that rusty, surely, since he’d done it so often as a child. At that point it must have turned into muscle memory.

Watching Leo struggle to put his skates on as Frank slipped into his own easily, he couldn’t help but imagine Leo tripping and sliding all over the rink, the inevitable whining that Frank would have to withstand. He’d probably try for hours, mostly because Leo couldn’t stand being bad at anything, holding onto the rails as he tried to find footing.

Well, Frank could offer to teach him. Once Leo got over sniffing and saying that he was still better than Frank, he’d probably accept, blushing as they tentatively skate across the ice together. Their hands would find their way to each other like it was natural, no overthinking required, and whenever Leo slipped he would topple forward and latch onto Frank’s arm like a koala, trying his best to not look adorable.

Maybe this would be it. Frank couldn’t help the butterflies that fluttered all about in his stomach, the jittery feeling rearing its head once more as he stepped out onto the ice. To his relief, he didn’t slip or fall or immediately make a fool out of himself. His body seemed to take charge even as the slickness of the ice shocked him, moving his feet deftly across the surface, spread a shoulder’s width apart.

He… missed this. The titillating feeling of instability, a never-ending struggle for balance as his skates skidded across the ice. It reminded him of being a child and holding his mother’s hand, deathly afraid of letting go, of trying to make it across the rink alone. 

Just be brave, his mother used to say. The more confident you are, the more balance you’ll have. Don’t overthink it.

A large thing to ask from a kid who never did anything but overthink, but Frank got the hang of it eventually. He spun in place, smiling wide, expecting to see Leo hesitantly sliding across the ice and already thinking of holding his hand to help him balance, catching him by the back of his sweater if he ever slipped… Leo’s weight would probably tip them backward, but Frank would keep his balance, and their faces would be way too close together to be normal, and —

But Leo was gone.

For a moment Frank was worried he really had been hallucinating all along, but a moment later something was zipping past him, laughing loudly. The force nearly made Frank spin, but he managed to stay in place, watching Leo skate around like an excited kid.

“I forgot how much I loved this!” he yelled as he zoomed by, and despite the disappointment bubbling in Frank’s chest, he couldn’t help but agree. That smile on Leo’s face, the sheer joy in his eyes, made Frank want to hold him even more. 

Determined, Frank skated toward Leo. He reached out as Leo spun on his skates, fingers outstretched, mouth half-open — unsure of what he was even going to say, what he wanted to ask. The only thing he could feel was that oh-so-familiar burst of confidence inside his chest that told him to do something stupid.

And something stupid, he’d done. He hadn’t considered that Leo wouldn’t be able to veer away from him when he was skating so quickly, a fact that dawned on him as Leo screamed for him to get out of the way, flailing his arms and batting at his outstretched arm.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE Y —”

Frank backed out of the way, frantic across the surface of the ice, but it was a second too late. Leo crashed right into him like a battering ram, seventy kilograms of pure speed and panic colliding into the wall of muscle that was Frank’s chest. Unfortunately, his own body’s toughness didn’t do him a lot of favours in this situation.

They landed on the ground on top of each other. Not in a romantic way; in a painful, wet way, the kind you got when there was freezing cold ice under your ass. Frank groaned, resisting the urge to kick his legs out in agony, because he had sharp blades on his feet and he didn’t want to slash lines down Leo’s legs. Still, it was difficult, even when he settled for gritting his teeth and clenching his fist.

Thankfully, Leo seemed less affected, most likely because Frank’s stomach had cushioned the blow for him. He winced in pain, rubbing at his leg, before breaking out into quiet laughter. 

“Jeez! What the hell was that?” he asked, and Frank had been worried that he was annoyed, but for some reason he was smiling ear-to-ear. “You just stood there like an idiot! Were you rebooting or something?”

“Um… sure. Let’s go with that.” He laughed along, though he was considerably more nervous than Leo was.

Shifting off his stomach (Frank felt yet another pang of disappointment, one of many today), Leo collapsed onto the ice, apparently unbothered by the cold and the wetness spreading through his gloves and shorts. “You’ve been acting weird this whole time, actually,” he said, voice still teasing but a little more gentle. God, he really cared. “You know it’s just a date, right? I know it’s me, and I’m super stunning, but it’s not that big of a deal.”

“You are stunning,” Frank said, and Leo blushed as if surprised to have his own brag tossed back at him, “but that’s not it. It’s just… it’s stupid.”

“ You’re stupid. Tell me.” 

Just be brave. Don’t overthink it.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Frank sighed and decided that whatever, he’d said weirder things before. “I like touching you. Not really in a sexual way, just in general. You’re really warm, and I just like being close to you. It’s…” A thousand words ran through his head, but he settled on, “nice. So going on this date, I thought…”

“Oh, I get it now,” Leo said, because of course he did. “You were trying to make a situation where we could get close? Was that what the whole thing at the cafe was about? I could swear the lady was acting weird.”

“I mean, it’s not like she was in on it. I think she really is just weird…”

“But smart. Unlike someone I know.” Leo poked Frank in the chest playfully, the ice on his gloves soaking through Frank’s shirt. “Hey, dummy, in case you forgot, we’re together now. And I said I like being close to you too, so you can just do it next time. Instead of trying to do this Tom-and-Jerry shit.”

For a moment, Frank was about to say that he wasn’t sure that’s what Tom and Jerry did, but the relief that came with the words overwhelmed any snark he had. Instead he did what he’d wanted to do all day and wrapped his arms around Leo, nestling his head in the crook of Leo’s neck and nosing at the metal there like an affectionate dog.

“Okay, well. You’re lucky no one’s around right now,” Leo stammered, and it reminded Frank of how cute he was when he was flustered. 

“‘S fine,” Frank murmured, “the Praetor loves his boyfriend. How scandalous.”

After a second, Leo wrapped his arms around Frank’s head in return, placing his chin in Frank’s hair. The cozy feeling Frank loved so much was finally back, that warmth spreading through his body wherever he felt Leo in his arms. He felt like a broken record, thinking of how lovely it was again and again, but Frank seriously doubted he’d ever grow tired of this.

Eventually they got up, the ice freezing right down to their bones, but even with their soaked clothes neither could find it in themselves to be even a little annoyed. They skated around some more, and if Frank pushed himself to go a little faster at times just to keep up with Leo and hold his hand as they made laps around the rink…

Well, they were boyfriends. That wasn’t weird at all.

“Ugh, it hurts. ” 

“I know, sweetheart, I know.”

Frank stroked his fingers through Leo’s hair, gently untangling the knotted curls. Leo squirmed in his lap, arms wrapped around his stomach and legs tucked up, as if trying to curl into a ball. 

Leo gave another dramatic whine. “I won’t survive,” he said, mimicking a hoarse, choked voice. He tried to get up and face Frank, presumably to act out some theatrical gesture related to dying, but he seemed to decide that the pain was too much to even sit upright, and collapsed back onto the couch. “Please… tell Festus I love him.”

“You can tell him yourself when the week is over.” If Leo was trying to annoy him, Frank wouldn’t take the bait; not right now anyway, when Leo was in genuine pain. He deserved to feel witty. 

“No, I can’t, I won’t make it. I’ve never felt this kind of pain before. No one could understand.”

“This happens to you every month.”

Speaking apparently cost more energy than Leo could afford, because all he did in response to Frank’s statement was sigh and nuzzle his face into Frank’s legs. His forehead was warmer than usual, and he looked feverish… even Leo’s periods, which tended to be harsh on him on the regular, never got this bad.

He stroked across Leo’s forehead again, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “How about you move to the bed and I get you some painkillers and water? You’ve been working through the pain this whole time, it’s fine if you retire for the rest of the day.”

“Can’t. Reyna needs my help on the panels, and I promised Lyla I’d drive her into the city…” Leo said weakly, before groaning once more, rubbing at his thighs. “But I’m too lazy to move.”

“The panels can wait until tomorrow, and you’re not the only person in this entire Camp that can drive. I’m sure she’ll understand. Now walk to the bedroom, you can do that at least.” Frank smiled at Leo, his voice teasing enough to goad Leo into taking it as a challenge.

It worked, and Leo peeled himself off the couch with a grunt, trudging toward their bedroom. Frank couldn’t help but look fondly at his hunched-over posture, before rushing toward the kitchen to retrieve Leo’s absurdly large stocks of medicine. He didn’t know much about periods, but spending so much time with Leo and Hazel eventually had him figure out some stuff. Lots of water, weird foods, and something to do with ibuprofen.

After shuffling through the countless packages and coming up with a fistful of the tablets, Frank took a water bottle out of the fridge and a bar of chocolate just in case. He jogged to the bedroom and burst in, holding the supplies in hand, like a superhero. 

“My saviour,” Leo said dryly from under the blankets, as if he knew what Frank was thinking, “now get over here.”

With an affectionate sigh, Frank padded over to bed, sinking down into the disarray of blankets and pillows scattered on top. He laid out the stuff he’d brought in front of the lump that was Leo, and after a moment he peeked his head out over the top and began to work on ripping the plastic of the ibuprofen. Once he popped two in his mouth, he drank until the water bottle was near empty.

“Thanks,” he said, and the expression on his face seemed to alleviate. He stretched, which was a good sign if he felt good enough to do that. “Sorry for being annoying about this. It’s just really bad this time, I dunno why.”

“Apologising for being annoying? Sweetheart, you’re scaring me.” 

“Alright, that’s the last time I try to be nice,” Leo snapped with a pout, crossing his arms and propping himself up against the bed’s headboard. He winced, curling in on himself at the exertion, rubbing at his stomach.

Before he realised what he was doing Frank was already reaching out, arm spanning the width of Leo’s shoulders. “Here, let me,” he said, offering up no other explanation, before pulling Leo down to lay on the bed, plush pillows and soft sheets cushioning them as Frank patted Leo’s stomach. “I’m not very good at this, but… where does it hurt?”

Realisation glinted in Leo’s eyes, and for a second Frank was worried he’d protest, but all he did was sigh and say, “I’ll take it at this point. It’s my stomach and thighs, it’s so… ugh. Maybe if I nap the pain will go away.”

“Good idea,” Frank said just for the sake of it, reaching down to gently massage at the meat of Leo’s thighs. The only experience he ever had massaging was vaguely rubbing circles into his mother’s back as a curious little kid, so he hoped that he wasn’t just making Leo hurt worse. Luckily Leo seemed to enjoy it well enough, letting out a satisfied breath into the pillow as he closed his eyes.

Ever since that disaster of a date (though it had turned out alright, in the end), Frank had grown more comfortable making contact with Leo. He didn’t hesitate anymore, to hug him when he was tired at night or stroke his knuckles against Leo’s cheek gently when he was being cute, which was often. There was a pleasant sense of domesticity that came with it as well, something homely in every kiss of the cheek and playful bat of the shoulder.

He liked it, knowing he was making Leo feel at least a little better. Every time he squeezed the flesh of his thigh just above where warm skin bordered into cool metal, Leo would let out a content sigh. Whenever he ran his hand over Leo’s belly a shiver would coast across his shoulders, and a soft smile would twist in his lips. 

For maybe the thousandth time since they’d started dating Frank thought about how lucky he was, that he got to see and touch and make Leo happy like this. Sometimes it all felt unreal, everything from them dating to the mere fact of Leo being alive, but the feel of his body curled up in Frank’s arms never failed to remind him.

They stayed like that for a long while. Frank’s hand started to cramp and the sun started to set, dimming the light shining through the windows, but he didn’t stop mindlessly rubbing at Leo’s skin, hoping it would help. He was warm, as always, providing a nice contrast to the cold that had swept in recently along with the winter. And though he was undoubtedly developing carpal tunnel from the prolonged motions, Frank almost wished they could stay like this forever, taking solace in knowing that Leo liked his touch just as much as Frank liked his.

Despite having gone still in Frank’s arms, he could tell Leo wasn’t asleep. He didn’t bring it up until Leo shifted, eyes blinking open as if done with trying to fall asleep, rubbing them so harshly Frank was concerned for his eyesight. When he spoke, his voice was drowsy.

“You know what’s annoying? Even though some of my legs are metal,” Leo ran his hand down to skim over the  steel of his right thigh, fingers brushing against Frank’s, “I can still feel the pain there, from the inside. So I can’t even make myself feel better no matter how hard I massage it or heat it or whatever. That’s bullshit. I want a refund on this whole uterus thing.”

“Don’t worry, you can get it ripped out someday soon, okay?” Once they worked out how to go to a mortal hospital without gaslighting anyone. But, well, if it was for Leo then maybe Frank wouldn’t mind a little immorality… 

The thought seemed to comfort Leo, because he smiled, snuggling his head against Frank’s arm. They stayed like that for a moment longer, and Frank pushed his face into Leo’s neck, appreciating the sound of his heartbeat, the lack of awkwardness in the silence. For all of Leo’s noisiness, Frank had come to learn that sometimes he liked the quiet too; when Leo would sit with goggles over his eyes and tinkering with something or other while Frank reluctantly sifted through documents. When they’d eat at the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, the only sound being the clinking of the silverware and the buzz of the fan. That way they could just bask in each other’s company, the subtle teasing of Leo pushing Frank’s legs off the table and the sharp glare Frank would give him in return, knowing that they both felt perfectly at home.

Leo murmured something into Frank’s arm that he couldn’t make out, so he leaned over, eyebrows raised in question. “You can tell me,” he tacked on, just in case it was something serious.

By the look on Leo’s face, it was. “It’s nice like this,” he said tightly, “no one’s ever done this kind of thing for me before. You know, going out of my way to do shit for me when I’m in pain, giving me medicine, rubbing my tummy. Man, it’s times like this when… when I really do believe you. What you say and shit.”

Though the reminder that Leo’s self-loathing persisted and the subtle twinge of insecurity under Leo’s voice sent a pang through Frank’s heart, he figured that making a big deal out of it would only make him uncomfortable. After all, something so deep-seated wasn’t going to go away in a month.

So instead he traced gentle shapes onto Leo’s stomach, reminded himself that Leo would stay as long as he wanted to, and that as long as Frank could stay here holding Leo in his arms for just a little longer then everything in his life will have been worth it.

“I’ll do shit like this until it sticks, then,” Frank said, pressing a kiss to Leo’s metal cheek, hard enough so he could feel it. The small quirk of Leo’s lips told him that he could. “You just lie there and decide when it’s gonna happen, okay?”

“Cocky.”

“Yeah, I get it from you.”

A small laugh from Leo that made Frank’s heart jump in his chest. The sun had only just set, the last remaints of afternoon still rippling through the sky like paint streaks, but Leo was looking awfully sleepy already. Once he was asleep, Frank could slip out of bed and continue his work… given that he’d be able to get himself to, of course.

It was probably impossible. Leo felt so nice in his arms, like this was where they were meant to be. But that was a problem for future Frank.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” he muttered into Leo’s hair, and Leo looked too tired to reply. He didn’t stop kneading his thighs, his stomach, his hips — even rubbing over the metal parts of his legs and skimming his fingers across where flesh met steel, as if that would make Leo feel better somehow despite what he’d said before. Or maybe Frank was just being selfish.

Soon he found his own eyes drooping as well, watching the sky outside turn from bright orange to dull purple to dark blue. Everything felt so right.

(He didn’t manage to wake up and finish his work, but he couldn’t bring himself to be upset about it.)

They’d been led into a trap. 

A month ago, a den of monsters had made itself known in Oregon, of all places. A month ago, two demigods from the Fourth Cohort had been dispatched to go and investigate the problem, and eliminate it if possible. Frank had been worried, but both Hazel and Reyna had reassured him that they’d be alright, and that they’d come home safely even if the situation turned out to be more serious than anticipated.

Unfortunately, it seemed that even the colleagues Frank admired so much could be wrong too. Tragedy could strike anyone, he supposed. After two weeks with no reports, Hazel and Arion had travelled to Roseburg themselves, reappearing a few hours later with a glum look and bad news: they were dead.

“Looked like bird talons,” Hazel reported, seeming queasy at the thought. “Really big, and really deep. I’m thinking Stymphalian birds… but not just a normal nest. Probably a hell lot of them.”

“Probably,” Frank had agreed, mind still floating above as if his brain had detached from his body. “We’ll have the funerals tonight. Then — then I’ll figure out what to do.”

He remembered staring down at the files of the demigods that had been sent. A son of Hekate and a daughter of Ceres, both adults but still rather young. They didn’t need to die. If only he’d been a better leader, if only he’d had more sense, if only — 

“Let’s go do it ourselves,” Leo had proclaimed, voice loud, interrupting Frank’s train of thought. He’d wondered whether that was on purpose — he wouldn’t be surprised. It had been comforting, though, seeing Leo smile wanly at him like that, leaning over his shoulder to distract from the faces of the dead staring at him. “You don’t want to send anyone else, right? So let’s go and solve this ourselves. We could take ‘em on.”

The thought of Leo getting injured hit Frank like a bullet train. “I’ll be fine if I go alone,” Frank had said wearily.

“Ha. No. It’s a date!”

Alas, the tired argument they’d had afterward was less of an argument and more of Frank protesting weakly as Leo shook his head with varying degrees of intensity. Eventually Frank had given in, like he always did when it came to Leo.

(“Just don’t do anything stupid, sweetheart. Please.”

“You expect too much from me… jeez, okay, okay. I promise I won’t. Don’t look at me like that.”)

Now they ducked behind a large rock, hands tight around their weapons as giant monster birds squawked overhead. The memory of his misery and dullness just a few days ago seemed faraway as Frank beheaded another one of the beasts, the dripping of blood down his fingers making him feel painfully alive. Leo grinned at him, and it made his heart jump even more.

A few bullets fired from Leo’s gun took out one of them, screeching as it spiralled toward the ground in a flurry of feathers and blood. “Six,” Leo crowed, face shifting to that familiar smug expression that made him look like a mischievous cat, the one that Frank loved more than life itself. “Keep up, Zhang!”

With a roll of his eyes, Frank emerged from behind his cover, smiling at the sound of Leo’s indignant cry of shock. He shifted into a large hawk, flying straight into a bundle of birds, ripping and tearing at their tough skin with his own talons. 

His wings blew a powerful gust of wind toward the monsters, making them scatter. Turning back into a human, Frank unsheathed his sword, blade at the ready to behead one of them — until a bullet shot right through its neck. Blood spurted across Frank’s face, but he couldn’t even bring himself to be happy about it, which meant it was a dire situation indeed.

“Kill steal!” He yelled, taking out two of them in one fell slash as Leo laughed in the distance. “And that’s seven. You keep up.”

He landed back on the ground with a satisfied huff, shooting Leo a grin. But his boyfriend seemed occupied with staring at something else, pressing himself against the rock he was crouching at as if to get a better view of the cavern above them, and when Frank looked up he realised what exactly had drawn his attention.

The birds didn’t see to be lusting for their blood anymore. Instead they swirled around each other in a tornado of feathers and claws, screeching in unison and creating an eerie noise that echoed around the cave. Dread built up in Frank’s chest as he stepped toward Leo, eyes still trained on the hurricane of birds raging in the air, the terrifyingly synchronised sound assaulting his eardrums and making it hard to think.

“Look out!”

Frank didn’t have time to look out before hands wrapped around his arm and shoved him away. Just as he landed on the rocky floor something burst from the ceiling directly toward the place where he had just been, writhing and squawking. 

“Be careful, stupid,” Leo said, voice hushed, “do I always have to be the brains around here?”

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

Luckily, Leo let him off with a warning, probably because there was something far more concerning in front of them. It looked like a Stymphalian bird, just like its brethren cawing above it, but around ten times larger and far more mutated. Eyes blinked along its head and back all at the same time, the effect of the pupils melting into the black surface dizzying to look at, and if Frank squinted at its wings he thought he could see razor sharp talons running beneath the feathers. 

“Hey, I’m no zoologist, but I don’t think they’re supposed to have claws in their wings.” Leo seemed to notice it at the same time Frank did. “What the fuck is that thing?”

Whatever it was, it at least seemed a little busy at the moment, flapping its wings and squawking at the smaller birds that flew around it. They were communicating, that was clear to see, but what exactly they were talking about was a mystery.

“I don’t know, but I give it thirty seconds before it notices us,” Frank whispered, hand a vice grip around his sword hilt. “We’ll focus it. Can you…” A pause. He always hated to ask this of Leo, knew how he felt about using his powers.

“Shut the fuck up and just tell me,” Leo snapped.

Right. He got feisty when he thought he was being pitied. Frank straightened and squared his jaw and admitted that sometimes there was no other choice — especially on a time limit. “Surround it with fire,” he said, trying to ignore the way Leo’s shoulders stiffened, “create a barrier so the other birds can’t get through. Leave an opening for us so we can concentrate on taking it down first. Can you do that?”

“Tch, can I.” Leo managed a self-assured smile; always so brave and resilient. Frank had to remind himself that he was currently in extreme amounts of danger and that he didn’t have the time to be staring at Leo, which was a shame. “I’ll turn that thing into roast chicken.”

As usual, his confidence, however faked, was contagious. Frank watched him dash off, flames blazing from his arms, engulfing the monster with a typhoon of fire. The noise it made was ungodly and loud , so much so that Frank was a little worried that his ears were bleeding as he ran after Leo, striking the creature with his sword. His strategy had worked; the other birds didn’t seem keen on messing with them now that there was a squall of fire raging in between.

Still, it made things a little difficult in some ways. The heat made Frank wince as he was knocked back by a rampant wing, flames licking against his armour and face. He heard Leo gasp, but he gritted his teeth and dodged the bird’s next attack.

“Don’t worry about me!” Frank ordered, though he feared that it was an impossible command. “Just focus on taking that thing down.”

Reluctantly Leo nodded, turning back to the beast and shouldering his rifle. It transformed, panels and cartridges shifting, into a rocket launcher, a booming sound echoing around the cave as Leo unleashed a series of missiles toward the looming monster. Though it successfully got it to back off, it didn’t seem to do any other kind of damage, most of the explosion glancing off its thick layer of feathers. A second later it was back to thrashing around, trying to knock away the humans standing in front of it.

“Its skin!” Leo yelled. There was a scratch on his arm, but he seemed otherwise fine, which made Frank sigh with relief. Dodging and rolling out of the way of the daunting talons that slammed into the ground, Leo ran to his side, collapsing on the ground with a grunt. “It’s way too thick. Our weapons can’t hurt it. We need to find somewhere weak to target.”

“Yeah, but the only part I can think of is its eyes,” Frank said. He turned to Leo, but he was unresponsive, eyes wandering all over the cavern as if searching for something. “Leo? Is there something?”

In response Leo gave a shake of his head, but it was slow and dazed enough for Frank to know that this was a lie. Yet he couldn’t find the words to point it out, especially with the sweltering heat of the fire and the incessant cawing of the birds making his brain unhinge. “Can you try to pin it down? Just so I can get a clear shot at its eyes.”

“Alright.” It’d be impossible to try to pierce it with any of his blades on the fly, but if he shifted into something large enough to keep it down if only for a few seconds, well, Leo was skilled enough to make the shot in that amount of time. Tentacles, maybe… but he hated how they felt. “Be safe. Please.”

Though he expected a snarky, witty reply, it never came. Instead Leo nodded somberly and leaned in to press his lips against Frank’s cheek, the touch jarring and sweet. Still, no matter how nice, the sight of Leo being all solemn made Frank worried. Something was wrong.

“Leo —”

“Go!”

A giant feather slammed into the ground in between them, edges glinting as if it were a threat. Frank had no choice but to scramble away, watching Leo do the same, taking off in opposite directions. Before he could rethink it Frank felt his arms stretch out, becoming larger and more rubbery — ugh —as he wrapped around the bone of the bird’s wing and used the tentacles to launch himself up like a slingshot.

He rocketed into its sharp, feathery back with a wince. No matter how the beast thrashed, it couldn’t throw Frank off, now-human fingers digging as deeply as they could into the tough surface. With his other tentacled arm he twined the limb around the bird’s wing, restricting it from moving, and with another twist of his shoulder stuck the tentacle to the ground with a loud suction sound that made him cringe.

Now pinned down on one side, the bird squawked in fury. Frank wasn’t going to let up. His heart pounding wildly in his chest, he slowly released his fingers from the bird’s back and stretched it quickly into another tentacle, doing the same thing with its other wing. It screeched as it crashed into the ground, unable to get free. But Frank knew it was only a matter of time before the suckers loosened, or worse, the bird got smarter and decided to snip at the limbs with its bladed beak — which, ouch. 

“Hurry!” Frank screamed, the burning in his arms growing more intense and more painful as he strained to hold down the giant monster. When he looked up he expected to see Leo lining up to take the shot, but what he saw instead was Leo running straight toward them, rifle laying discarded on the ground. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

There was no response. In fact Leo seemed to start sprinting even faster, determination written all over his face as he lunged forward.

Straight into the bird’s open beak.

Frank’s mind went blank, the only noise he could hear the thumping of his own heartbeat as he leapt off and slid down the bird’s neck, his blood from the cuts of his hands smearing on the way down. He ran across the length of the shiny, slick beak, lodging his fingers underneath the tip of the upper mandible and pulling with all his might. 

The bird tried to snap its beak shut, no doubt angered by the feeling of its prey sitting in its mouth of his own accord but being unable to kill him. “The fuck is your problem?!” Frank screamed as the muscles in his arms ached. His fingers were starting to bleed from where the edge of the beak was digging into his flesh.

“I’m gonna blow it up from the inside,” Leo yelled, as if he didn’t sound ridiculous. True to his words, his arms were already blazing with fire, eyes burning a molten gold and the rest of his body beginning to spark as well. “Let go!”

Despite every single nerve in his body telling him not to, Frank didn’t have much of a choice. Pain was racing up his arms and he was bleeding from at least ten different places. As he stumbled back Leo jumped, like the madman he was, down the bird’s throat. 

Even from where he was hanging onto its leg Frank could feel its entire body heat up, cawing and thrashing around as it burned from the inside out. It flapped its wings, lifting into the air, crashing against the walls of the cave and making rocks crumble from the already fragile ceiling. Frank shifted into a bird and narrowly avoided a falling boulder as he darted right toward its neck. 

At that exact moment the bird seemed to have enough of the living bomb inside it, because it lifted its talons — and plunged them right into its own throat, blood spurting everywhere.

One of its talons caught Frank in the side, piercing right through his waist and slamming him against the gaping hole in its neck. He could see Leo, but it wasn’t Leo, not really. In his place was a brilliant typhoon of fire, burning bright and nearly melting Frank alive.

A year ago Frank might have been afraid. But now all he could feel was dread. It was impossible not to think of that day, when Leo had smiled at him, Physician’s Cure clenched in one hand and the other on Festus’ head. Impossible not to think of when he’d died, a beautiful maelstrom of orange and yellow and red.

The talon dug closer to Leo, who seemed to flicker in his intensity, the shape of his body becoming more apparent as he pressed himself against the other end of the bird’s neck to avoid the claw nearing him. His hands came up to burn the bone, but it was too tough, too resistant. 

“Leo,” Frank rasped, choking on his own blood. Or maybe it was the bird’s, he didn’t know anymore. It was getting hard to speak, so he simply extended his hand, outsplayed and unfaltering even with the sweltering heat. Take it, the action said, just take it, there’s no time .

For a moment Leo seemed to hesitate, but between the blade-like unguis pressed against his chest and the pulsing blood and flesh of the monster squeezing him in, he had no other choice. He dove forward, talon scraping against his skin and drawing blood, to grab Frank’s hand. 

Burns and welts raised across his skin immediately, even beneath the gloves, but Frank didn’t mind. All he could think about was pulling Leo to safely as he hacked at the bird’s leg, sword sawing across the bone. It shrieked, lifting its claws for only a second, but that was enough for Leo to slide underneath it and into Frank’s arms.

It wasn’t over yet, though. Leo was busy trying to put himself out, avoiding Frank’s touch as much as he could as the flames burned out across his skin. Which left only Frank to notice the outstretched talons coming toward them, poised to kill, ready to plunge straight into Leo’s exposed back. 

There was no time. All he could think about was that dazzling explosion — that smile — that golden sky.

He pitched himself forward, turning around and hugging Leo tight to his front, armoured body holding his protectively. And braced for impact.

The claw went through his cloak and crushed Frank’s armour beneath it like a tin can, digging deep in to impale Frank’s body like it was nothing. Under the thundering in his ears Frank thought he could hear Leo gasp, thought he could see those lovely dark eyes widening, but everything was going so dark so fast.

They spiralled toward the ground. All Frank could think of was clenching his arms tight around Leo, holding him down in the faint hope that maybe he was enough to protect him. When they hit the ground with a thud a dozen rocks rained down next to them, creating a flurry of dust and debris.

Blood seeped into the ground. Pain coursed through Frank’s body. Faintly he registered the feeling of Leo scrambling out of his grip, small hands coming to press down on his waist to stem the bleeding. He was speaking, but Frank couldn’t make out any words. But he knew he liked the sound of Leo’s voice. To be honest, he wouldn’t mind if it was the last thing he ever heard.

Weakly, his arm twitched toward Leo’s face, hovering over his. It sent agony racing through his side, but it didn’t matter to him.

When he touched Leo’s face, the familiar scarred surface, he could see the shape of his smile. Frank couldn’t help but smile too, as much as he could.

He felt warm.

“Someone turn the lights off,” Frank muttered.

Everything was so bright. The glare of the fluorescent lights above shone in his eyes, much too harsh on his stinging eyes. He struggled to open his eyes all the way, his pupils whining in pain. Really, he just woke up from being grievously injured, couldn’t he get a little more comfort around here?

Frank shifted, slow and sluggish, trying to sit up straight. He was laid out on a bed, but not his own; the white pillows and clinical-smelling sheets gave away that he was in the medical centre, though that didn’t come as a surprise to him. What did shock him though, just a little, was that he felt okay. No aching pains, no sore bruises or broken bones, and he certainly didn’t feel like he had been on the brink of death. 

The only thing out of the ordinary was the faint throbbing in his fingers. When he looked down, he realised why that was: his index, middle, and ring finger were now stumps, presumably lopped off when he was holding the monster’s beak open. Gently unwrapping the bandages that had been wrapped around them, Frank concentrated really hard.

It always felt weird to shapeshift his limbs back like this. Well, it wasn’t that he had to do it often — but enough to know how it felt. While it wasn’t exactly painful, there was something nauseatingly unpleasant in the sensation of his skin and flesh stretching to form a part of his body that should have never left.

“You can do that?” Someone asked hoarsely. That was when Frank noticed Leo, kneeling on the floor, despite the perfectly functional chair next to him. “Cool.”

He had thought Leo was going to say something sentimental or dramatic in wake of what had happened, but this — a wan but genuine smile, voice tired but still with a real sense of curiosity — Frank liked it a lot more. If his hand hadn’t been currently occupied putting itself back together, Frank would have reached out to brush away a lock of hair that had fallen over Leo’s face.

“Figured it out a while ago. My arm got straight chopped off, but the battle wasn’t over yet.” Leo ran his fingers over his metal arm, as if reminiscing. “So without thinking, I just… did it. Got it back. Doesn’t feel all that great, though. And sometimes it’s hard to remember whether… I’m still the same.”

“Of course you are, don’t be dumb,” Leo huffed immediately. Frank wanted to tell him that he’d probably never stop being dumb when Leo looked so cute reprimanding him for it, but instead he just breathed a laugh. “You said the same thing to me, didn’t you? It’s still you. Loved no matter what.”

Something twisted in Frank’s chest, made him feel giddy and melancholy at the same time, and it definitely wasn’t the result of an injury. He couldn’t think of anything to say past the burning of his throat so he kept his mouth shut as Leo lifted his hand to examine it, the gory sight of blood and nerves winding around each other. 

But it was Leo, so of course he just looked fascinated. As the skin spread to fit over the newly-formed muscle, Leo pointed at the tip of his index finger, eyebrows twitching. The feeling of his hand pressed against Frank’s healing one was comforting, the steady presence soothing. “You had a scar right over here. I mean, not that it matters, but…”

“Okay.” With a little more focus Frank recalled how the scar looked and the skin curved down to make the mark. He remembered now, how he’d gotten it. “From when you tried to teach me how to cook.”

“Worst decision of my life,” Leo murmured, and Frank couldn’t help but laugh. 

And laugh and laugh and laugh and laugh. Because it was all so funny: that look on Leo’s face, the memory of the kitchen on fire and his finger bleeding profusely. Most of all, how Frank had been somehow convinced that he was going to die, and he hadn’t even been upset about it because Leo had been there.

I always thought you were going to be the one to kill me.

Leo was looking at him incredulously, like Frank had gone mad, and for some reason it made him laugh even louder. “Leo,” he gasped, and his sides were starting to hurt. His hand was completely healed, so he brought it up to brush his knuckles against Leo’s face, his high cheekbones and his ridged metal jaw. Something in him wanted to scoop Leo up and hug him until they were fused together. Until — as different as they looked — it wouldn’t be possible to tell whose body was whose. “Leo… I’m so happy.”

This seemed to surprise Leo more than any of the deranged laughing. “You’re happy? ” He said, eyes wide and eyebrows raised in disbelief. “Did you get a concussion or something? Why are you happy?”

Getting the last dredges of laughter out of his system, Frank sobered up, though he could still feel that buzzing feeling in his chest. “Because you’re here. And I’m here. And we’re both alive. That’s — that’s really great, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Leo was smiling, but something was faltering in his eyes. He lowered his head, inadvertently knocking Frank’s hand off his face, propping his chin up on the mattress. “No thanks to me, though. It was my fault that you got hurt.”

“It was.”

“We could’ve found another way to take that thing down. But I was really stupid and I… you could’ve died.” If Frank tilted his head he thought he could see tears dot at the corners of Leo’s eyes. 

“I could’ve.” 

With a sigh, Leo buried his face in the sheets. Frank couldn’t help but sigh too, tugging on the back of his ragged army jacket in an attempt to get him up on the bed. He obliged, sluggishly moving to lay down next to Frank, though he stayed an amount of distance away. His forehead was wrinkled and his lips were pursed the way they always were when Leo was feeling guilty. 

“What were you thinking?” Frank asked, gentle but stern, unable to conceal the layer of anger. “It wasn’t just me. You could’ve died, too. And I know that you don’t care about your own life but I thought — I thought we were in this together now.” 

The tears started to drip down Leo’s face, sliding down his cheeks and into the spaces between the metal panelling of his lower face. Frank wondered whether that affected its inner mechanisms at all, or maybe Leo had built it to be waterproof from the start, considering he’d always been such a crybaby. It was another thing Frank liked about him.

“We are, I know. I know, ” he repeated, “but it’s like my brain doesn’t want to… there’s always something in me that…”

“Doesn’t believe it?” Frank said, heart heavy. Leo shrugged.

They were both silent for a few moments, Leo’s eyes flitting from place to place as if trying to decide what to say. Frank’s own stayed fixated on Leo, trying to figure out what he was thinking, though he knew already that it was a futile task. 

Eventually, Leo seemed to settle on something. “When you got news of those two campers who died, you were so upset. And it made me realise something. You care a lot about every single one of your people. Even though you don’t know some of them, and some of them were total assholes to you back then, and some of them are still total assholes to you now.” 

“Everyone deserves a chance at being a good person.” Frank let the words hang in the air between them, knowing Leo would receive the message. He closed his eyes as if to block it out.

“But you, you don’t even have to try,” Leo whispered, and the idea of it made Frank laugh. “I’m serious. I know, surprise surprise. But I am. You’re so good, and I’m fucking scared, because what if I ruin another good thing. What if I kill another person… who loves me.” 

His hands were shaking. Frank reached out his own to grab them, flexing his new fingers, pressing them against Leo’s wrists. “First of all,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, “don’t get so cocky. As if you could kill me. ” 

Despite everything, Leo still choked out a laugh, leaning in to smack at Frank’s shoulder playfully. “Psh, I’d kick your ass.”

“Second of all.” Frank laughed too,  and pressed his lips to Leo’s. There was the faint taste of salty tears on his mouth, the smooth feeling of steel, the ever-present slightly smoky sensation. It was all so Leo, he couldn’t help but smile into the kiss. When he pulled away, Leo looked dumbfounded. “If I’m a good person, I don’t know what that makes you. A saint, maybe.”

“As if —”

“I’m not always good.” Frank curled his fingers into the blankets. “Sometimes I have selfish and weird and violent thoughts. And I know someday I’m going to have to tell you about them and then maybe you won’t want to be with me anymore —”

“Fuck off with —”

“But I want you to know that even when I feel like a freak, when I feel like I’m just a monster in armour pretending to be normal, you make it alright. Because clearly, if you’re still here, I did something right.” Tears stung at his eyes, just as unfamiliar and foreign as the last time that had happened. Frank wasn’t the crier, but something about Leo was infectious. “That’s enough for me.”

Leo shuffled closer, burying his face in Frank’s shoulder. “Idiot,” he said, muffled through the fabric of Frank’s hospital gown but comprehensible anyway. “Idiot. I hate you.”

“Really?”

He frowned. “No.” A sniff, an exasperated sigh. “When I ran into that ugly fucker’s mouth, I was thinking… I should die here. Because then I wouldn’t be able to destroy another good thing. Because I don’t really deserve this, anyway. I used to feel like that all the time, back during the war. Like I could die at any time and it’d be fine if it was for all of you.”

That mindset wasn’t exactly news to Frank; it was easily pieced together by how daring Leo had been back then. At first, Frank thought he was dumb and impulsive, but he came to understand something. Leo was smart, probably the smartest person he’d ever met. He just didn’t care about his own life.

Like I could die at any time and it’d be fine if it was all for you. And that was what ended up happening, wasn’t it?

“But now I feel like… like I want to be alive.” He stretched his fingers out, the lights above reflecting off his prosthetic. It made him look like an angel. “Like for the first time in my life, this whole living thing doesn’t seem so bad. I could go through with it, I think. Because of you.”

“Me?” Frank asked in disbelief.

“Festus and Annabeth and Hazel and Reyna and Jason and Piper. And you, dummy. I thought it’d be obvious by now.” Frank’s heart skipped a beat. When Leo smiled, it was tired. “But I can’t help but feel like… I don’t know. You got hurt saving me today. What if it happens again?”

I’d gladly die for you, Frank wanted to say, but that probably wasn’t what Leo needed right now. Instead he tilted his head to rest his chin on top of Leo’s, stroking his hair gently. The curls tangled between his fingers. “Well, good, then. You saved my life back then. I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of it saving yours.”

At this, Leo stared up at Frank, eyes soft. It was rare to see them without that characteristic sharpness, the signature mischief replaced by something so serious and sweet. “I’m… sorry for what I did. I was being all depressed, and it could’ve gotten you killed,” he said, and he sounded so sincere it made Frank’s heart hurt. 

Now that Leo was curled up against him closer, Frank could comfortably turn on his side and wrap his arms around him like he’d been wanting to for a good thirty minutes. Leo relaxed in his hold, hair tickling his cheek, and God Frank really was so happy that he was alive. Else he might never get to touch Leo again, or hold or hug or kiss him again…

“Let’s put it this way. If you do something self-sacrificial and idiotic, I’m going to be the one to take the hit. So care about your life, stop being so selfless, and we’ll all be okay. Win-win.” 

“Terrible logic. Could be averted if you just stopped taking the hits for me.”

Frank traced a finger down Leo’s nose, all crooked and adorably off-centre. Part of that was his fault, he knew, but to be honest he didn’t regret it. Things were just fine as they had ended up, so who was he to complain, or regret? “We both know that’s never going to happen, so let’s go with the second best option.”

Though he was expecting something witty in response, it seemed that Leo really was feeling a little sentimental. All he did was stare at Frank, eyes warm and dark. “You really do care.”

“Of course I do, Leo. I love you.” It wasn’t the first time he’d said it, but it felt truer than ever now. Leo, by his side, his weight a constant reminder. Of the boy he loved, the one that had teased and insulted him and saved his life. Frank wanted to hug him tight and never let go, wanted to feel Leo’s warmth and the scars on his face and the sharp metal edges of his body against his forever. Because it all meant that Leo was here, and that he was his. 

He didn’t say that. Didn’t have the courage to yet, just like all the other things left unspoken between them. But that was fine; they had all the time in the world. 

So instead he leaned into Leo even more and asked, “do you believe me yet?”

“Yeah,” Leo said, and closed his eyes. “I do.”