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The first sign something was wrong should have been the silence.
Percy Jackson was never silent.
Jason had learned that quickly after they’d finally stumbled out of whatever years-long disaster of unresolved tension and accidental pining they’d apparently been living in and into something terrifyingly better: dating.
Dating Percy, Jason had discovered, meant constant noise.
Not annoying noise, good noise.
Percy humming under his breath while cooking. Percy narrating his thoughts out loud like the world’s least organized documentary host. Percy complaining dramatically about architecture in New Rome.
“Who decided stairs should exist?” Percy grumbled one afternoon, leaning against Jason as they climbed toward the forum. “I fought Titans. I deserve ramps.”
“You literally grew up in Manhattan.”
“Elevators exist in Manhattan.”
“You complain in elevators too.”
“That’s because elevators are suspicious.”
Jason had laughed so hard he nearly missed a step.
That was normal.
Silence?
Silence was concerning.
Which was why Jason paused outside Percy’s apartment in New Rome and frowned.
Usually, Percy opened the door before Jason even knocked, somehow sensing him coming like a weird ocean-powered golden retriever.
Today?
Nothing.
Jason knocked.
No answer.
He checked the time.
Late afternoon. Percy had skipped lunch with him, which Percy never did unless he was actively dying or unconscious, and had sent a suspiciously short Iris Message excuse:
‘busy. nap maybe. food later.’
Three red flags in five words. And there had been periods.
Jason knocked harder.
“Percy?”
Nothing.
A thread of unease slid down his spine.
“Percy, I’m coming in.”
The door wasn’t locked.
Strike four.
Inside, the apartment looked wrong.
Quiet.
Dark.
No music playing. No abandoned snack wrappers. No Percy draped upside down on furniture like gravity was merely a suggestion.
Instead, a lump on the couch. Wrapped in approximately six blankets.
Jason blinked.
“…Percy?”
The lump groaned.
“No..” came a miserable mumble.
Jason crossed the room immediately.
Percy was cocooned so aggressively only a mess of dark curls and one deeply offended eye were visible.
“You’re clearly Percy.”
“No proof.”
“You smell like ocean.”
“That could be anybody.”
“You’re wearing my hoodie.”
A pause.
“…still no proof.”
Jason crouched beside the couch.
Up close, Percy looked awful.
His cheeks were flushed bright pink. Hair damp with sweat. Eyes glassy.
Jason pressed the back of his hand to Percy’s forehead.
And immediately hissed.
“Gods, Perce.”
Percy squinted up at him with visible betrayal.
“Rude.”
“You’re burning up.”
“I’m dramatic naturally.”
“You have a fever.”
“No,” Percy muttered. “I have vibes.”
Jason pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Percy.”
“I’m fine.”
“You skipped lunch.”
“Didn’t feel hungry.”
“You love food.”
“Food betrayed me.”
Jason sat carefully on the edge of the couch.
That alone was enough to tell him Percy genuinely felt terrible, because usually Jason sitting down meant Percy instantly gravitated toward him like some kind of clingy sea magnet.
Today Percy barely shifted.
Jason frowned harder.
“How long have you felt bad?”
Percy shrugged weakly.
“This morning?”
“This morning?” Jason echoed. “Percy, it’s late afternoon.”
“I was gonna tough it out.”
Jason stared.
“Tough out a fever?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Percy looked at him like the answer was obvious.
“Because being sick is inconvenient.”
“That’s not how illness works.”
“It should be.”
Jason sighed.
Gods.
This was what happened when someone survived apocalypses before adulthood.
Their standards for “serious enough to acknowledge” became terrifyingly broken.
“You should’ve told me.”
Percy blinked slowly.
“…didn’t wanna ruin your day.”
Something soft and painful twisted in Jason’s chest.
“Oh, Percy...”
Percy made a face.
“Don’t do the emotional voice.”
“What emotional voice?”
“The one where you’re about to be nice and I hate it.”
Jason laughed quietly despite himself.
“You hate kindness?”
“From you? Yeah.”
“That’s incredibly concerning.”
“You get all…annoyingly perfect.”
“I’m not perfect.”
Percy narrowed fever-bright eyes.
“You literally look like a Disney prince.”
“That’s not relevant.”
“It’s deeply relevant.”
Jason snorted.
Yep.
Definitely feverish.
Still Percy, unfortunately.
“Okay,” Jason said, standing. “We’re fixing this.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a question.”
Percy groaned dramatically and buried himself deeper in blankets.
“Jasonnnnn.”
“You’re taking medicine.”
“Cruel.”
“You’re drinking water.”
“Oppression.”
“You’re eating something.”
“War crime.”
Jason crossed his arms.
“You’re impossible.”
“You like me.”
“I unfortunately adore you.”
Percy blinked at him.
Then visibly softened.
“Oh.”
Jason paused.
“What?”
“You said adore.”
Jason felt heat creep up his neck.
“…I say nice things.”
“No, you don’t.”
“That’s- rude!”
“You think compliments are eye contact and emotional support.”
“That is not true.”
“It absolutely is.”
Jason opened his mouth.
Closed it.
“…okay, maybe a little.”
Percy smiled sleepily.
Even sick, somehow, Percy looked unfairly pretty.
Which felt ridiculous considering he currently resembled a dying burrito.
Jason sighed.
Right.
Caretaking first.
Heart problems later.
“Stay here.”
“I literally cannot move.”
“That dramatic, huh?”
Percy stared.
“I fought a giant yesterday and this is worse.”
Jason disappeared into the kitchen.
The apartment, thankfully, still had supplies.
Tea.
Soup.
Medicine.
Crackers.
He returned ten minutes later balancing everything like he was carrying sacred offerings.
Percy looked personally offended.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Jason.”
“Percy.”
“You can’t make me.”
Jason raised one eyebrow.
Percy paused.
“…okay, unfortunately you kind of can.”
“Correct.”
Jason sat beside him again.
“Medicine first.”
Percy accepted it with all the dignity of a sentenced criminal.
“You know,” he mumbled after swallowing, “when we started dating I thought there’d be more kissing.”
Jason blinked.
“There has been kissing.”
“Yeah, but now I’m sick so no kissing.”
“You’re keeping track?”
“Obviously.”
Jason laughed helplessly.
“You are unbelievable.”
“You’re avoiding the issue.”
“The issue being?”
“Kiss deficiency.”
“You have a fever.”
“Coward.”
Jason rolled his eyes.
Then leaned down and kissed Percy’s forehead anyway.
“There.”
Percy froze.
“…that counts?”
“No.”
“Still nice though.”
Jason smiled before he could stop himself.
Percy immediately pointed accusingly.
“There!”
“There what?”
“The look.”
“What look?”
“The disgustingly soft one.”
Jason groaned.
“You’re impossible when you’re sick.”
“I’m cute when I’m sick.”
“You’re feral.”
“Boyfriend.”
Jason paused.
Still.
That word still got him.
Boyfriend.
After years of weird almosts and complicated emotions and accidental jealousy and whatever that thing had been in Greece
‘Boyfriend.’
Jason still wasn’t used to it.
Percy noticed.
Because of course he did.
His expression softened.
“You still do that,” Percy mumbled.
“Do what?”
“Get all weird when I call you my boyfriend.”
Jason looked away.
“It’s new.”
“It's been three months.”
“That’s still new.”
Percy smiled tiredly.
“You’re cute.”
“You have a fever.”
“Still right.”
Jason huffed.
“Eat your soup.”
“Yes, dad.”
Jason gave him a look.
Percy grinned weakly.
“…hot dad?”
Jason nearly dropped the spoon.
“Oh my gods.”
Percy started laughing.
Which turned immediately into coughing.
Jason’s amusement vanished.
“Easy.”
He shifted closer automatically, rubbing Percy’s back.
Percy melted against him without resistance.
That worried Jason more than anything.
Percy wasn’t touch-averse exactly, but he was energetic, restless.
Even affectionate Percy usually moved.
Now he just sagged against Jason like he’d run out of battery.
“You really feel awful, huh?”
“…yeah,” Percy admitted quietly.
There it was.
Honesty.
The fever had apparently destroyed Percy’s ability to pretend he was invincible.
Jason wrapped an arm around him instinctively.
“You don’t have to tough everything out.”
Percy looked down.
“Habit.”
Jason knew.
Gods, he knew.
Both of them had been shoved into impossible situations too young.
Both had learned pain wasn’t important unless it was catastrophic.
Still, “You’re allowed to need taking care of,” Jason said quietly.
Percy didn’t answer immediately.
Then, softly: “Still figuring that out.”
Jason’s chest ached.
He brushed damp curls back from Percy’s forehead.
“Well.”
His voice gentled.
“You’ve got me now.”
Percy looked at him.
Really looked.
Sleepy and feverish and vulnerable in a way Percy rarely let himself be.
“Yeah,” he murmured.
“Got lucky.”
Jason nearly malfunctioned.
Because Percy said things like that so casually.
Like Jason wasn’t the lucky one.
Like Jason hadn’t spent years accidentally orbiting him.
Like Jason hadn’t spent months after the war wondering if whatever weird gravitational pull existed between them was one-sided.
Turns out it wasn’t.
Turns out Percy Jackson looked at Jason like sunlight.
Which was deeply inconvenient for Jason’s emotional stability.
“You should sleep,” Jason said quietly.
“Stay?”
Jason blinked.
“Obviously.”
Percy relaxed instantly.
Like the possibility Jason wouldn’t stay genuinely hadn’t crossed his mind.
That somehow made Jason feel even softer.
Percy shifted, mumbling, “C’mere.”
Jason hesitated.
“You sure?”
“You’re warm.”
“…I thought I looked like a Disney prince.”
“You do.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.”
“Disney prince heater.”
Jason laughed quietly.
Then carefully settled beside him.
Immediately, Percy curled into him.
Like instinct.
Head tucked against Jason’s chest.
Arm lazily draped over his waist.
Jason froze for half a second.
Not because this was unusual.
Because somehow it still startled him how naturally Percy trusted him.
Especially vulnerable.
Especially sick.
“You comfortable?” Jason asked quietly.
“Mhm.”
“Need anything?”
“Yeah.”
“What?”
Percy tilted his head up.
“Kiss.”
Jason sighed dramatically.
“You are relentless.”
“You’re dating me.”
“That was apparently my first mistake.”
“Liar.”
Jason softened.
Then leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Percy’s hairline.
“Sleep.”
“You’re bossy.”
“You like it.”
Percy grumbled something incoherent that sounded suspiciously like ‘maybe a little.’
Within minutes, his breathing slowed.
Jason stayed still.
One hand in Percy’s hair.
The other holding the abandoned soup before eventually giving up and setting it aside.
Outside, New Rome settled into evening.
Soft sounds through the window.
Distant conversation.
Warm lamplight.
And Percy.
Half asleep against him, occasionally mumbling nonsense.
At one point:
“Sharks are judgmental.”
Jason blinked.
“…what?”
“No trust.”
“Okay.”
“Also.”
A pause.
“You’re pretty.”
Jason looked down.
Percy was fully unconscious.
Fantastic.
Jason stared at the ceiling.
He was losing this battle horribly.
An hour later, Percy woke abruptly.
“…water.”
Jason handed him the glass instantly.
“You planned for this?” Percy asked groggily.
“I know you.”
Percy drank.
Then frowned.
“You’re still here.”
Jason stared.
“Yes?”
“You didn’t leave.”
“…why would I leave?”
Percy shrugged weakly.
“People usually do.”
Something sharp twisted inside Jason.
Not dramatic.
Just true.
A simple fact Percy clearly believed.
Jason carefully took the glass away.
Then gently tilted Percy’s chin up.
“Hey.”
Percy blinked.
“I’m not ‘people,’ okay?”
Percy looked suddenly very awake.
Very vulnerable.
“Oh.”
“I’m staying.”
Jason brushed a thumb over Percy’s warm cheek.
“Even when you’re stubborn.”
“Rude.”
“Even when you refuse medicine.”
“Unfair.”
“Even when you call me a Disney prince.”
“That one was accurate.”
Jason laughed softly.
Then quieter: “You don’t have to earn someone staying.”
Percy went still.
The kind of stillness that meant something landed harder than expected.
“Oh,” he repeated softly.
Jason suddenly felt exposed.
Feelings.
Terrible invention.
Percy reached up weakly, fingers brushing Jason’s wrist.
“You’re really good at this boyfriend thing.”
Jason snorted.
“I spent twenty minutes arguing with you about soup.”
“You won the soup argument.”
“Barely.”
Percy smiled.
Sleepy.
Fond.
“You make sick feel less awful.”
Jason nearly died.
Emotionally.
Internally.
Catastrophically.
“Okay,” Jason said, voice suspiciously soft. “You need more sleep.”
“You dodged that.”
“I absolutely did.”
Percy smiled wider.
“You like me.”
“You’re delirious.”
“You adore me.”
Jason groaned.
“Go to sleep.”
“Say it.”
“No.”
“Jason.”
“No.”
“Boyfriend.”
Jason sighed.
Then quietly: “…I adore you.”
Percy beamed.
Actually beamed.
Like Jason had handed him the stars.
“There it is,” Percy mumbled happily, “The emotional voice.”
“You’re evil.”
“You love me.”
Jason paused.
Easy answer.
Terrifyingly easy.
“Yeah,” he said quietly.
“I really do.”
Percy’s expression softened immediately.
Like something inside him settled.
“Oh.”
Then, sleepily:
“Love you too.”
Jason stopped breathing.
“…Percy?”
No response.
Already asleep again.
Jason stared at him.
“You cannot just say things like that and fall asleep,” he whispered.
Percy snored lightly.
Traitor.
Jason sat there for a long moment.
Heart doing deeply inconvenient things.
Because maybe Percy had meant it casually.
Fever-brain.
Sleepy.
Half-conscious.
But.
Still.
Jason brushed curls back carefully.
Pressed one soft kiss to Percy’s forehead.
“Love you too, Ocean Boy.”
Percy shifted closer automatically.
Mumbling against Jason’s shirt:
“Pretty.”
Jason laughed helplessly.
Then settled back into the couch.
Holding his boyfriend through fever and exhaustion and the slow quiet of evening.
And if Jason stayed there all night?
Well.
Percy never had to know Jason had absolutely no intention of being anywhere else.