.It's Gon: You. Will like this chapter a lot. Aha.

Sister-of-the-devil: Guess you'll just have to wait and see, huh? Hehe.

Gethe: Haha, you'll just have to wait and see. Leo has an explanation for the way he acts, actually.

Cheesey: The book's actually a lot different from the movie. xD I'd have to say to read the books; but Heroes of Olympus is part of a different series in a different period of time. I highly recommend it; that's where I get a lot of my humor from.

Chapter XI: Where Leo Stands

Shut up.

I feel the sun beaming in my face as I try to bury myself deeper into the Stoll Brother's stupid couch, and the unhealthy scent of ramen noodles fills my nose. Not just any ramen noodles—empty plastic cups that are littered all over the floor like they haven't been touched since freshman orientation. I don't want to wake up from last night because if I do, that means waking up remembering that I'd snapped at Jason after another failed date. I'd blown a fucking gasket, getting all up in his face for every wrong thing he's done to me. Worst part?

The only wrong thing he's ever done to me was make me fall in love with him. Even more worse?

He still doesn't know. I've never planned on telling Jason about my feelings for him because he's always been undeniably straight, and I don't want to ruin it for him. You know that kid has so much messed up in the head? When we first met he had amnesia, not knowing how the hell he was at camp, and my first quest with him—just us—was to find out why his memories were gone. Before and after, knowing he was the child of Zeus never made his life easy. Grace has all of these expectations of himself, along with expectations everyone else has of him. He's locked away his feelings for the first seventeen years of his life to put everyone before himself, growing up for everyone else around him the moment he was taken into camp. I'm just a lowly Hephaestus kid.

Jason isn't his father. He doesn't go around the entire world having awesome super hot sex, doesn't hold himself to a higher standard than anyone else, and if he had the chance he'd probably get rid of that spotlight always thrust upon him. Percy has it bad because he's a child of the Big Three. Jason has it worse because he's the child of Numero Uno.

The Greek and Roman World doesn't have a zero-tolerance policy, but it's not like they were all freaky religious or anything. Sort of. Mythology is their religion, before the whole Reformation Movement went and changed everything. I've never met him, but stories of Apollo tell of his male lovers, and Mr. D (shiver) was that feminine one who got looks from sailors a lot when he was mortal. Apollo kids are as open as you can get—going around and serenading those hiding in their closets, and one look at the Aphrodite Cabin makes all the chicos scream GAY.

So, no. Greek/Roman society isn't gonna kick your ass for liking sausage like your sausage or donuts like your donuts. Neither is Jason. Jason has always been the type of person who accepts people despite their flaws—and when he trusts you, you see the staple scar on his lip and it almost looks like it's shining.

But that's his other flaw.

Jason has a lot of ridiculous flaws: his fear of being controlled, fear of betrayal, insane jealousy, mild Daddy issues, and he's always stiffer than the hard-on I get whenever I see him. But his biggest, most ridiculous flaw is being unable to pick up on the fact that he flirts/charms everyone he sees. If he were an Aphrodite kid he'd beat Piper as a charmspeaker because the compliments you receive are always his earnest, darnedest truth.

He knows when he makes a mistake on the battlefield. He's completely stupid when it comes to being himself. So I let it slide because the chances of Jason flirting purposefully are like, zero-to-none.

So yeah. Shut up.

I know I blamed him. I know that I freaked out on his ass, and that I crossed the line when I was talking to him. I know I shouldn't have snapped, because right now I'm kind of still freaking out that my rock of a roommate and the girl that's practically my sister are both asking me for sex advice and for some reason, Jason losing his virginity is bothering me more than I should.

Shut up, just shut up, just—"Shut up!"

"Dude!" Conner—I know it's Conner because his voice is a little higher than his brother's—"I was just trying to get you to wake up! Isn't your first class soon?"

A groan leaves my lips, sweaty curls sticking to my forehead. I reach for the watch I made last night (score! This one has a fingerprint reader too!) and stare at the glowing numbers. Oh—"Shit."

Pushing off the couch and letting my back crack in twenty angles, I dart toward the door—then stop.

Conner only laughs. "You're in your boxers, dude."

"I kinda figured that out when cold air hit me." Actually not really. I've always had insanely hot body temperature because of my powers, even when they're fully controlled. But shit. I'd come to their apartment in a haste, kicking Drew out on her ass in the middle of her lap dance for Conner (now he agrees with me that her sex noises sound like a cat with a splinter stuck between its paw), and after Conner gave one quick call to his brother, Travis had come home early from his date. We talked. A lot.

I dunno how, but I guess I just ended up blacking out on their couch. He must have given me some sleep medicine or something because I'm pretty sure on my way here I'd burnt Conner's face by accident. Yeah—there it is. My eyes venture to the highlights of his cheek bones, and right there you can make out a second-degree burn in the shape of a fist. Thank Gods for ambrosia—otherwise it'd be a lot worse than puffy little red.

Conner only grins, checking me out head-to-toe before meandering toward Travis's room. "Wait here."

I can't help but smirk, mounting on the couch through all of the empty noodle cups, pizza boxes and whatever the hell is covering their floor. Really—you could probably find a litter of kittens under their dining table or something. The Stoll Brothers weren't known for being tidy. Jason is tolerant when I'm all around the room with my latest invention, but there are days where I come back to the dorm room and suddenly everything's clean. He's put my good wrenches on the wall, my shoes under my bed, fluffed my pillows, and made sure everything looks okay.

Of course, being me, my side of the room is pretty much slicked with oil, soot, grease and dirt by the time he comes back from his next class while I try building something, but I'd never know where anything is without him. He's never complained, either. Jason may lack every lick of creativity known to mankind, but he lets me do what I want. Really, the kid spoils me.

Sighing, I add that to the list of reasons why I need to apologize to Jason ASAP. It's a blow to my pride—I mean, I'd come back to the dorm grouchy and whiny that I found myself annoying—but he doesn't know it. It's not like I'm pursuing him—so that's what sucks even more. Believe me—I've spent the past two years trying to push those feelings away. Why get so hung up on someone you'll never have when there's plenty of fish in the sea?

When people say that, it pisses me off. Trust me—when you find that person that you can just be yourself around, severing that link is the hardest thing you can do.

There's a lot of yelling and screaming—and I'm pretty sure more than once the apartment starts shaking. Whatever the hell Conner's doing to his brother, Trav suddenly comes out, curly hair ruffled in a giant afro and he pouts. Conner snickers behind him, eyes wickedly gleaming and he holds up a pair of clothes.

Looking around the floor, I quickly realize that when I slapped Conner I must have also burnt my clothes off in the process. Well damn. My cheeks turn bright red. Generally I have good control over my powers. I've only burnt a hole through my mattress once when I was having a nightmare. The fact I burnt my clothes doesn't even begin to tell how moody I must have been.

Travis jibes his brother in the torso, then hops to my side, clothes in hand. He takes one look at me before all of the weariness drowns from his eyes, replaced by a grin. "You look hot."

"You have a girlfriend. Sort of." I smirk, yanking the clothes from his hands. He's finally gone through that growth spurt of his over the summer, so we're sort of the same height.

"Mm," he moans dramatically and presses a hand to his forehead. "Shackled. What I wouldn't give for a good screw! Hey, does Leo Jr. still have that mole?"

"Leo Jr. is flawless!" I cry, then punch him in the shoulder. You seriously must be wondering—how do I go from Travis, the bestest bed buddy in the world, to Jason—who probably doesn't even know what upstairs-outsidies means? I pull the shirt over my head, then pull the pants up—no belt included. Damn, these things are gonna fall off before my day's even over with.

Conner is still at the door, this time making faces. "Are you seriously having a broment?"

"We're having a ho-ment!" To prove his point, Travis sticks his hand down my boxers and—HOLY SHIT. "Hmm. Oh, dude—don't look now but you're getting a stiffy."

"Whatever!" I shove him away, eying him with horror while he only laughs. Conner's rendered speechless, and he slumps against the doorframe just gaping. I'd do the same to him (what? Have you never shoved your hand down your ex's pants and grab his junk before?), but I'm already as late as is and need to grab books for Hephaestian Theory class. The Stoll Brothers yell an anticlimactic goodbye that I shrug off as I hop into the elevator.

Oh, and those odd stares? You know, the two Aphrodite sisters who just so happen to live down the hall and the Ares boy that lives in the floor above the Stoll Brothers? The ones, specifically, that are in the elevator with me? It isn't the first time they've seen me in this elevator, leaving Travis's apartment after a good night together. I'm wearing his clothes, I look like I haven't showered since yesterday—and well, probably smell like it too.

The Ares boy just stares at me long and hard, but I'm considered one of the best blacksmiths in the nation, and with the Capture the Flag tournaments coming up he doesn't say a thing. The Aphrodite girls giggle, but I notice they're only freshman.

Maybe if I wasn't still a wee bit frustrated with Jason I'd actually hit on them. Plus, I guess they think I'm doing the Walk of Shame back to my dorm. Wouldn't be the first time.

The good news was that when I set fire to myself last night, I hadn't burned my wallet into a crisp. The bad news was I had been so frustrated when I got to the dorm last night that I left my wallet at home.

So instead of sidestepping the possibility of meeting Jason on my way to class (not only that, but a quick shower. I only had an hour to get dressed and stuff) by getting some coffee, I have to go straight there and—wait for it—knock. My keys were in my pants and have either been burnt to a crisp or the Stoll Brothers now have access to my room. Scary thought.

It's at the first knock that Jason answers the door. That's not a good thing.

Grace isn't the type of guy to keep you waiting, but you can always tell by the way he answers the door what's been going on. If you have to knock three times, he's in the middle of some complicated math homework. Twice means that he's doing something, but nothing important. Four times means he's just getting up—which doesn't work since the guy's internal alarm wakes him up at 5:30 in the morning.

Once means he hasn't gotten any sleep and has been up thinking all night.

Compared to Travis's curly brown hair and fluid blue eyes, I'm staring into a new stratosphere from Jason's crop-top and intense, shocking orbs.

For a moment, all I can do is just stand there, gaze transfixed with his and stomach flopping. My hand moves to my hair to tug a curl—then I remember that they're too short for that now. Damn, my ears are cold. Jason only stares back, eyes seeming more concentrated than they have been in a long time.

Don't blame him. We seriously got into a fight, I had a lot of baggage, and he doesn't even know what the hell's in my suitcase.

"Hi." It leaves my throat almost inaudibly, a croak compared to me yelling at Travis all morning. My heart trembles under a vice grip, blood throbbing in my ears as I only stare at him, mystified.

Then all Jason does is smile. I feel my heart flutter as that gentle, hesitant smile curves his lips, revealing the faint scar on his bottom lip as he opens the door wider. "Hey."

He's not mad. Oh, Gods…he's not mad. The mucus in the back of my throat gathers together, and I swallow it down harshly—through my scratchy throat into my suffocated ribcage—before entering and looking around the room. Jason's cleaned up my messes. Again.

Jason doesn't make a move to shut the door behind him, but we both know he isn't leaving anytime soon. It's Thursday, and his first class doesn't start until noon. I drop to the chest in front of my bed and grab everything I need for a good shower in the co-ed bathroom.

Actually…I'm pretty sure he's staring at me now.

My face heats up and at the first scent of fire I force my temperature down before getting up from the ground. We say nothing. We're not even looking each other in the eye. Getting some nerve, that's exactly what I do because the last time this silent treatment happened, he'd just found out that I was bi.

"Pretty sure I lost my key or something. At least my wallet's here," I joke. We're still not looking each other in the eye, but I can clear as day see my wallet on the desk next to Annabeth's and my project.

When he doesn't answer I get the nerve to look at him. Jason is studying me. He's been doing that a lot lately. Quickly he snaps out of his thoughts, blinking once or twice before slowly nodding. "Cool."

No reaction. You seriously feel the elephant in the room and the awkward silence is so bad that I could probably light it on fire. Wait, does that even make sense? I think we go into a staring contest, neither one of us knowing what to say until I'm pursing my lips and am ready to light the ammunition. Come on, Valdez—all you need to do is just—just say it—

"I'm sorry." Whoa. That's not your voice. I look up to Jason, but find that his eyes are closed, edges of his hand in his hair and his eyebrows are furrowed. Jason bites his lip and the shame plays clearly across his face. "Leo…I'm so sorry."

My throat goes dry. I can't even hear my brain thinking.

"I shouldn't have said what I said last night—I shouldn't have accused you of being jealous of Piper and me." Jason's eyes quickly shoot open but I guess my silence is doubling for his own hell bent torture. I don't think I've ever seen him this…this distraught. He studies me again, eyelids lowering one millimeter as he waits for my reaction. Actually, I don't even know what I'm feeling. "When I said that…I'd meant if you were jealous of our relationship. Not that I had her. But it was my fault that it came out the wrong way and we've known each other for four years. It's an insult. The fact that I can't trust you of all people—you know how my mind works better than anyone, Leo."

Am I nodding? I think I'm nodding. I'm…I'm doing something with my head.

Jason continues, eyes never leaving mine. I can see his sincerity. "I'm not going to set you up on dates anymore. I-I'm not going to try and run your life. I promise."

"…you done being emo?" All I start doing is laughing. I break into a smile, and it's like every bone in my body's suddenly loosened, becoming jelly and just—oh, just wow. Just like that Jason has me wrapped around his finger again and I can't stay mad at him. I just…jeez, I just want to hug my corazoncito.

And like always, all serious and dire, Jason looks up with confusion on his face and I can't help myself. My hand twitches, then I tackle him into the wall, embracing him from head-to-toe and inhaling the scent of zesty lightning and ambrosia. Jason doesn't hug back—but I don't expect it. He's not exactly touchy-feely.

"I'm sorry," I say softly, nose buried in the crook of his neck. I have to stand at the tip of my toes just to wrap my arms around his neck. Oh, Gods…I'm so freaking gay. "For snapping at you and stuff."

Jason is tense again, but this time it's not from the hug. "But…I-I deserved it."

"No, corazoncito." I pull away from him, missing the warmth that was previously there, but don't think much of it. My eyes scan his body up and down, and there's this glimmer—something I've never noticed before in Jason's eyes the moment I called him my corazoncito. "Trust me. When I yelled at you last night, that was all me. You were just on my stress load."

After all, it wasn't like Jason actually knew I was in love with him or anything. And it was a subject I don't think I wanna get back into. So he slowly nods before his eyes look me from head-to-toe again. Snap! We drop the subject just like that. "Did you…sleep over at Travis's?"

"Well," I say thoughtfully, hands feeling up the t-shirt that Travis had thrown to me. It's got this big fluffy picture of Torchic on it. I think back to when he shoved his hand down my pants just this morning. "He gave me a handjob." Technically.

Jason only stares at me. Then I remember what I'd just said. "A…handjob?"

Maybe I said it to him to remind him that I may like girls, but I do have the hots for guys once in a while. I can't just go out and say right there and then, Dude, you are so freaking sexy, but this is a new adjustment for Jason. I think it stings that he hadn't the slightest clue I was bi because we're supposed to be best friends.

Remembering he just repeated what I said, only confused, I snap out of my thoughts. Oh right, he's a virgin. I laugh at that thought. For all I know, Jason probably doesn't even know the proper way to masturbate. As gentlemanly as possible, I start making gestures with my hand and arch an eyebrow. "If you took your chastity belt off once in a while, it's when someone else—"

"I-I know what a handjob is," Jason says. Oh, wow—Jason's entire face blooms dark red and he looks at me sardonically, ready to bop me up the head. But come on, I'm too cute to do that. Er, right? "I mean, I've had one. Well, I-I've given myself plenty of—"

Um.

Er.

Uh.

Jason freezes, and just like that the pretty hues of red on his face blanch into a deathly white as he stares at me. Then…he's blushing from his bare feet to his hairline, face quickly constructing his lieutenant's mask and all I can do is stare at him.

I'm—I'm pretty sure Leo Jr.'s jumping around in my boxers.

"I'm gonna…" Jason starts as he turns his head toward the door, voice awkward. Cum? Cum? CUM? "…go."

"Um," I say back. "Okay."

He leaves in a hurry, and I'm left standing there debating whether or not I should laugh or wallow in my confusion. I decide to do both. We're um. We're cool, right?

Author's Note:

So, everyone's basically given me an answer to the last question. However, does anyone else find the image of calm, cool, and collected Jason squirming absolutely adorable? xD I guess you could call it a filler chapter; it resolved their fight without much going on. Thank you though, so much for the reviews! I didn't expect so many and was very flattered! C: