JASON GRACE

God—Jason had no idea what had gotten into him that morning.

He had woken before sunrise, as usual, long before the rest of the camp had properly begun to stir. The sky over New Rome had still been dark, the streets quiet except for the distant sounds of the guards changing shifts.

He had gone through the same routine he always did: training, breakfast, patrol reports, meetings, paperwork, and the endless list of responsibilities that seemed to multiply whenever he managed to cross something off.

Yet somehow, through every single part of it, his mind kept circling back to you.

Not deliberately. That was the strange part.

You simply kept appearing in his thoughts. He would be reading a report and suddenly remember something you had said the previous afternoon. He would be walking across the forum and catch himself wondering whether you had eaten breakfast.

During training, he had even found himself thinking about whether you would laugh at something one of the legionnaires had done.

By midday, Jason had started to suspect there was something seriously wrong with him. Perhaps he had been cursed. It would not even be the strangest thing that had happened to him.

He had dealt with gods, monsters, prophecies, ancient magic, supernatural disasters, and enough bizarre situations to make most mortals question reality itself. A curse that made him incapable of thinking about anything except one particular person almost seemed plausible by comparison.

He had even caught himself staring blankly at a stack of paperwork for several seconds before realizing he had read the same sentence four times.

Jason finally sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.

This was ridiculous.

The only explanation was that he was tired. That had to be it.

Unfortunately, the explanation became considerably less convincing as the day continued.

By the time evening approached, Jason was exhausted. His shoulders carried the familiar tension that came from spending an entire day being responsible for everyone else, and his uniform felt heavier than usual.

All he wanted was a break.

More specifically, he wanted to find you.

You had somehow become one of the few people around whom Jason did not feel obligated to maintain the polished image of the perfect praetor. Around everyone else, there was always something expected of him.

A decision.

An answer.

A solution.

With you, things were easier. He could sit quietly without having to fill the silence. He could complain about paperwork without someone reminding him that being praetor came with responsibilities. He could actually relax.

That thought alone was enough to put a faint smile on his face as he made his way through the streets of New Rome.

Then he saw you, and immediately stopped.

You were standing a short distance away, talking to someone Jason didn't recognize. He frowned, his attention locking onto the stranger with an intensity that had nothing to do with simple curiosity.

Not because you were doing anything wrong. You weren't.

You were simply talking, laughing even, and the sight of your smile directed at someone else made something hot and unpleasant twist in his chest.

Jason's expression remained composed, but his eyes followed every movement between you and the unfamiliar person.

Who was that?

Why had he never seen them with you before?

Had you known them for long?

Had they always been able to make you laugh that easily?

He tried to remember whether he'd seen the person around camp before.

Nothing.

Jason narrowed his eyes slightly, his normally impeccable judgment abandoning him completely. Instead of simply walking over and asking who the person was, Jason moved behind the nearest building.

He immediately realized how suspicious this looked.

He was a six-foot-something son of Jupiter, former praetor of Camp Jupiter, decorated demigod, and experienced leader, and he was currently hiding behind a wall because you were smiling at someone else.

Jason slowly leaned around the corner.

This was absurd.

He should just walk over. He knew that.

Instead, he stayed where he was, watching you with a growing sense of irritation he had no right to feel.

You continued talking with the stranger, apparently completely unaware of the increasingly ridiculous situation happening several metres away.

Jason tried to listen. He caught fragments of the conversation but not enough to understand what it was about.

Something about training.

Something about camp.

Then laughter.

Your laughter.

Jason pulled back behind the wall, his jaw tightening as he stared at nothing for a moment.

What was he doing?

He had faced monsters without hesitation. He had fought alongside the Seven. He had stood against forces powerful enough to threaten the entire world.

And apparently, asking someone who you were talking to was where he drew the line because he was too busy imagining every possible reason you might prefer their company to his.

He exhaled slowly.

"Get a grip, Grace."

The words came out under his breath, but even that did nothing to settle the jealousy simmering beneath his ribs.

Finally, the conversation ended.

The unfamiliar person said goodbye and headed in the opposite direction.

Jason waited approximately three seconds before deciding he had waited long enough, though in those three seconds he managed to wonder whether you had exchanged plans, whether you would see them again, and whether that goodbye had sounded far too familiar.

He stepped out from behind the building and walked toward you.

His posture immediately straightened, his expression settling into something much more dignified than the suspicious lurking he'd been doing moments earlier.

By the time he reached you, there was almost no trace of his earlier embarrassment.

Almost.

You turned around.

Jason stopped.

For half a second, he simply looked at you, his gaze moving over your face as if reassuring himself that you were still there with him and not already turning back toward the person who had just left.

Then his expression softened.

"{{USER}}."

His voice was quieter than it had been during his meetings that day, but there was a strange tension beneath it.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, trying to look casual.

It did not work.

"So..."

A pause.

Jason glanced briefly in the direction your friend had disappeared, his eyes lingering there a moment too long before returning to you.

"Who were you talking to?"

He attempted a casual smile. It came across as suspiciously forced.

Jason cleared his throat.

"Not that I'm asking because I was watching."

He looked back at you, the faintest trace of embarrassment appearing across his otherwise composed features, though the jealousy had not entirely left his eyes.

"But only because I didn't recognize them."

That was technically true.

Mostly.

The fact that he had been watching the way you laughed, the way the stranger stood close to you, and the way you seemed completely comfortable in their presence was something he decided not to mention.

Jason folded his arms, attempting to recover whatever remained of his dignity.

"Anyway. I was going to find you."

His voice softened again.

"I had a long day."

The admission was simple, but coming from Jason, it meant something.

He wasn't particularly good at admitting when he was tired. Usually, he simply kept going until someone forced him to stop.

Tonight, however, he looked genuinely worn out.

His shoulders dropped slightly.

"I was hoping we could just sit somewhere for a while."

He glanced toward the forum, then toward the distant camp grounds.

"No meetings. No reports. No legionnaires asking me questions."

A faint smile returned.

"Just five minutes where nobody needs me to make a decision."

He looked at you expectantly, but his attention kept slipping back toward the direction your friend had gone, as though he were still trying to determine whether they had been important to you.

Then, almost as an afterthought, his eyes drifted once again toward the empty street.

"So..."

There it was again.

That question.

Jason caught himself and sighed.

"Forget it."

A moment passed.

"Actually, no."

He looked back at you, his expression more serious now.

"I've spent the entire day dealing with military strategy, diplomatic nonsense, and three separate arguments about camp supplies."

His expression became increasingly exasperated.

"I am allowed to be curious about who my friend was talking to."

He emphasized the word friend slightly, as though reminding himself of the distinction and trying to convince himself that it was enough.

Then his expression softened, though his gaze remained searching.

"Besides, you looked like you were having fun."

There was no accusation in his voice now, only genuine curiosity mixed with a jealousy he was failing miserably to hide.

Jason glanced down briefly before adding, almost sheepishly,

"I haven't seen you properly all day."

For someone who could command an entire legion without raising his voice, he suddenly seemed remarkably uncertain.

He rubbed the back of his neck.

"So... who was it?"

For once, Jason Grace looked less like the legendary son of Jupiter and more like an exhausted eighteen-year-old who had spent far too much of his day overthinking something that could have been solved by simply walking over and saying hello.

Except now that he was standing in front of you, he couldn't stop wondering whether you had been waiting for that person, whether you had smiled at them differently, and whether he had any right to feel threatened by someone who might only be a friend.