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“...And that is why, considering everything stated on pages two through five with the additional index on page nine, that a joint venture between your family and mine would be for the ultimate benefit of all parties involved.” Octavian finished his speech, his nervous smile restrained behind the faint air of professionalism.
Percy, with only one cup of coffee in him and three bites into breakfast, let the document of pages drop from his hands onto their kitchen table and gave his boyfriend a long, bewildered stare.
“Tay,” he started slowly, carefully, like how one would handle a fragile family heirloom in the presence of a hyperactive six-year-old. “I have some concerns.”
Octavian’s brow furrowed. “What kind of concerns? I thought I covered every possible avenue.” Flipping through the pages to glance over the very detailed, very thorough marriage proposal he’d given Percy a copy of, Octavian tilted his head like an overgrown blond bird. Or maybe harpy.
“Oh, I’m sure you did,” Percy reassured, and if there was one thing Percy wasn’t confused about, it was Octavian’s amply prepared legal documents. Apparently, part of early schooling - if you did school in New Rome - covered a lot more about law than the average American public school student.
And this was a legal document. For all that Octavian insisted that it was, ‘Just an initial draft, we can alter it as negotiations continue.’
Taking another long sip of his coffee, he mentally prepared himself. “This is all just, um… rather old-fashioned?”
There was that cute, confused head tilt again.
“Ol- old-fashioned? Percy, by most standards, we practically are married.” And, boy, Percy knew that well, considering how much of a fit Octavian's parents thought when they learned their son was moving in with his boyfriend. They almost started hating him more for that than the fact that he was Greek. This-” Octavian gestured widely to the stack of papers surrounding him. “-is merely the minutia of it all.”
Percy speared a sausage link onto his fork. “Tay, you have a term stating our final vows will take place on ‘the most advantageous astrological positioning,’ which you then clarified what that position would be over the next three paragraphs.” Or, at least that’s what Percy thought all those numbers and letters meant. His dyslexia kinda gave up on following Octavian’s loopy scrawl about two sentences in.
“Yesss,” Octavian said, slowly, as if trying to see what Percy was getting at. “Minutia. By New Roman standards, we have a Free Marriage, to the absolute detestation of my parents. Although I’m sure the Census Bureau would appreciate an update on our status. For tax reasons, it really would be easier if I took first precedent in that, but if you’d prefer separate filings then-”
“Octavian.” Percy was grateful that a single word was all it took for his boyfriend to pause, in what would surely be a very complicated legal spiral. “We’re boyfriends, yes?”
“Well, by the law-”
“Yes?”
Octavian sighed. “Yes.”
“So, all of this-” waving a hand at the contracts, “-is a proposal?”
Octavian bit at his lip, shifting with a fidgety air. “I suppose.”
Percy leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Levelling Octavian - his very smart, but sometimes so very silly boyfriend - with a glare cool enough to freeze lava. “Are you starting to see why I might not be okay with this being the way you propose to me?”
The silence lasted just a stretch too long, enough to make clear that, no, Octavian didn’t. Percy sighed, took another sip of his coffee. Counted to five, and took a deep breath. Nope. He would not get mad here. This was an opportunity for communication. Clear, consistent communication.
His therapist would be so proud of him.
Rising from his chair, he walked around the table and snagged Octavian by the hand. With a tug, he pulled the blond close until their foreheads touched. The smell of incense and pine wrapped around him like a comforting touch. It took strength to resist the urge to close the gap between them and kiss his partner.
“You’re a schemer and a planner. I understand that. But this? Being us? That doesn’t need a whole big plan.” The lingering fear of being managed because he was too stupid, too slow to contribute to the grander image bubbled from within. Percy’s sharp incisor worried at his own lip. “I can’t be managed, Octavian, and you said you were okay with that.”
Octavian’s pale blue eyes met his own, filled with understanding. “And I am,” he insisted. “I wasn’t. This- I, this is just how a marriage is done. Normally.”
“Not any marriage I’ve ever heard of.”
Octavian rolled his eyes, despite inching himself closer. “Yes, yes, you’re talking about a mortal marriage. It’s different here. Marriage is… well, it’s politics, kind of.”
Oh great. More politics. New Rome thrived on politics, and it drove Percy absolutely bonkers. “I wouldn’t marry you for politics.” That statement got him wide eyes and a worried expression that dropped Percy’s heart into his stomach. Wrong thing to say! Back track. “I wouldn’t marry anyone for politics. That’s not… that’s not how I work.”
“How-”
Percy slid his free hand up to cradle Octavian’s jaw. “A marriage is a bond of loyalty. Of love. Not…” he hesitated, pain paralyzing his tongue. Memories grasping at his throat, drowning him in a sea of best-forgotten moments.
Beer and cigarette ash burning his nose. Ducking fists and unbearable shame flooding his body.
Friendly punches and half-joking compliments. Insults. Accusations and impossible standards.
Not manipulation.
Not pain.
“Not joint financial considerations,” he settled on.
Octavian leaned into Percy's hand, humming. “People don’t often realize how much of marriage as an institution is a financial enterprise. Especially a New Roman marriage.”
Percy’s heart beat against the bars of its enclosure. “So, it’s… not for love?” Shamefully, he can’t stop his voice from shaking at that last word.
Octavian shook his head. “No, no, it’s that too, but I just…” he shook his head, misery hanging around him like a fog. “Oh, I don’t know what I thought.”
“About?”
“Doing all of this!” Octavian exclaimed. “Of course, we love each other, but marriage is… It cements a legacy. At least, for those of us who grew up here in New Rome. It’s a way to pass along lineages and power. To protect the prestige of being descended from legionnaires that the gods entrusted with the safety of their children.”
Oh, well, now Percy was feeling a bit bad about giving Tay such a hard time over the contract.
“But I should have realized, expected, you might not see it that way.” Octavian pulled his hand away from Percy’s grasp. “I- I apologize, my dearest. I won’t bring this up-”
“Nuh uh. Nope. That’s you overcorrecting way too much. I’ll absolutely marry you.” And just the thought of doing that sent Percy’s heart fluttering faster than Hermes’ winged sandals. Even though he was sure Octavian loved him, there had been a small part deep inside his brain hissing that the former augur was just stringing him along. That he’d find somebody else who was more refined, more Roman, and would leave him behind.
Relief crashed through Percy that those doubts turned out to be nothing more than shadows dancing in the wind.
Octavian blinked. “Oh-”
“I just don’t need a contract telling me the hows and the whys and the detailed…” Percy waved his hand through the air, “minutia of it all.”
“But-”
“I trust you. If you want the contract for some sort of bureaucratic crossing T’s and dotting I’s, then I’ll sign whatever you need.” Octavian looked worried, but Percy wasn’t. If Tay hadn’t proven himself a hundred times over from the way he’d been when Percy first met him, he wouldn’t have given the former augur the time of day. Much less his love and loyalty. “I trust you.”
Octavian did his best not to look entirely too pleased. It failed, and he looked like a cat that had caught the canary, and all of the rest of the neighborhood’s birds, too. “That’s a dangerous thing to give,” he warned with a heated expression.
Percy smiled, caressing the sharp jaw and bringing him in for a kiss. “And I give it anyway. I love you, Octavian. And you, shockingly, love me.”
“Not shockingly, I got myself the most perfect boyfriend-”
“Fiance,” Percy corrected.
“Really? Even after a,” Octavian paused, red flushing across his cheeks, “less than satisfactory proposal?”
Percy smiled and brought their foreheads together again. “Hey, I went into the relationship knowing full well what you were like. I honestly should have expected something like this; we’ve run into stuff like this before after all.” New Romans had weird traditions, even by demigod and legacy standards. Especially for families, like Octavian’s, who had basically lived inside New Rome for their entire lives.
Octavian turned away, picking up the contract. “I guess… looking at it from a modern lens, this does all seem a little antiquated.”
“Perhaps, but it’s important to you.” Then, Percy thought of an idea that was sure to please his boy- his fiance. “I’ll have one of my dad’s lawyers look it over, because you put so much time into it.”
Instead of looking pleased, the statement sent Octavian into a flurry of movement. “Oh, if this is going to be looked over by Atlantean lawyers, I need to make sure it’s perfect. What if your father ends up seeing this!?I should definitely have Marco double-check my phrasings. Shit, I have so much to do now.” Gathering up the papers faster than the blink of an eye, Octavian pressed a quick kiss to Percy’s cheek and scurried out of the room.
Oops, he didn’t mean for that to spiral.
Chuckling a bit to himself, Percy finished clearing up the rest of breakfast. He was glad they managed to work through this. Octavian could be so meticulous about doing things the ‘right Roman’ way, that he often forgot that Percy, one; didn’t know what that way even was. And two, didn’t really care one way or the other.
Oh, well… as long as he was happy. And, if Percy had a ring hidden on the bottom shelf of their pantry, and a full plan to propose next week at their favorite spot in the aviary surrounded by lights and music and a full meal he bribed the legion kitchens into making? Well, Octavian will just have to deal with a less antiquated method of proposal, because Percy certainly wasn’t changing his mind.