July 2nd : Leader/Traitor
Like Piper said, Jason is on the topmast.
Leaning on the railing with his legs dangling in the air, at ease as the wind whistled strong through his short hair - he'd cut it just before leaving Camp Half-Blood, to look more "roman" as if the SPQR branded on his forearm and the purple shirt weren't enough. He'd even took off his one-beaded necklace, scared of what his old comrades would read into harbouring for all to see a greek symbol, stepping off a greek ship with greek friends.
Honorables efforts and carefully planned appearance ruined by him blowing up the city. Leo feels shame brewing in his chest, heated guilt burning within, tightening his stomach into painful twists.
And when he opens to his mouth to apologise for perhaps the twentieth times since they left New Rome as its newly most wanted criminals, Jason holds up his hand, stopping him.
"Don't, it wasn't your fault." The son of Jupiter says, shifting to make room for him, the circular platform tiny for both of them. His leg ends up pressed against his, micro-jolts of electricity shocking him even through the fabrics. "The eidolon could have possessed any of us."
He's looking at his tattoo, fingers tracing the burnt letters - The Senate and People of Rome - then going over the twelve dark lines symbolising his twelve years of service, the small scar on his upper lip twitching as he purses his lips, frowning.
Leo does not answer. Instead, he lifts his gaze, looking for the bruise on Jason's forehead, the one caused by the rock thrown at him earlier. It's purple, flesh swelling like a lump, contused and matted with blood-soaked hair.
He quells down the voice telling him it's his fault.
"Does it hurt ?" He asks about the injury, steering the conversation to more threadable grounds, fidgeting with scraps of metal, his hands heating up to bend it more easily, unfazed by the searing warmth of melting iron.
His boyfriend stays silent, looking at the horizon with a pensive face, which is far too much reflexion for deciding wether or not his head injury hurts, considering the answer is yes.
"It does." Jason says at last, his eyes drifting down to the bridge, lingering on Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase standing together, his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close.
"But it shouldn't." He adds, looking away, back to the darkening sky, shrugging like it's self-explanatory. "Dura lex, sed lex. It's the roman way."
Leo's brain is wired for Ancient Greek, however basic latin idioms are easily enough translated : the law is harsh, but it's the law. He fails to see how that correlates with a head injury, though.
"I know they looked for me, after I disappeared." Jason continues. "It's procedure : for three months, search parties are organised, counsels are made to discuss theories and plan actions, I oversaw some myself after we won against the Titans and some legionnaires were missing."
He smiles - a real, proud, grin. "It was amongst my first decisions as praetor, after they elected me for defeating Krios."
"Yet another proof that you're the good guy to put in charge." Leo nods, understand why the romans were more than happy to have Jason as their leader. Everything about the son of Jupiter screams order and diligence, leadership and respect.
It's not all he is, of course. Jason is more than his father's son, spending afternoons in the workshop with him, asking him to teach him physics and engineering, eating chocolate to the point of making himself sick, playing with younger campers, flying them around.
He can sense something is bothering his boyfriend, and it's bigger, deeper, than a stone being hurled at him.
"You're hurt by the fact that they stopped looking for you when the greeks never stopped looking for Percy ?" Leo ventures.
Jason shakes his head. "No, it's not like they would have found me with Juno interfering."
"But you are angry with them." Leo states.
"More like disappointed." Jason grumbles, glaring at his tattoo like it personally insulted him. "And maybe a bit angry, yes. I spent over a decade fighting for the legion, protecting the city, doing what they asked. They know I'd never hurt them."
He throws his hands in the air, frustration twisting his face. "And now, over one misunderstanding, I'm a traitor sentenced to die should I ever come back."
Hurt shines in his eyes, his voice breaking under the weight of his emotions. "It was the closest thing to a home I've ever known, and it just casted me out like I didn't matter."
This particular kind of aching, Leo is familiar with. It hurts to see your family turn against you, brand you an outcast, treat you as if you were the devil itself. But his family never pretended to care. They've been upfront since the beginning, calling him a cursed child - except Tia Callida, Hera, who called him her little hero - keeping his cousins and younger relatives away from him, shunning him. Only his mother's presence protected him from their hate, and once she was gone so was he, for staying would have brought him nothing.
On his lap, his hands have stilled, their work done. Out of the junk he had, he has made tiny fireworks.
"To being traitors together." He says, lighting the fuse. It crackles in his open palms, fizzling. "Reyna did say she needed to bring in all seven of for public execution, not only you."
It shots up in the air, sparkles of light illuminating the night, taking the form of Festus roaring, wings flapping as he soared in the sky for seconds before disappearing. Below, the real Festus clicks in appreciation.
His boyfriend blinks, a smile threatening to pull his lips upwards, some of the sadness gone, replaced with amusement. "Are you celebrating being charged with treason and sentenced to die ?"
"I was more thinking about being in this mess together, being our own family but sure, we can cheer to being New Rome's most wanted instead." Leo shrugs.
It makes Jason laugh, lean in to kiss him affectionately, sorrows momentarily forgotten. Electricity jolts through his body when they kiss, as it always does when Jason touches him, the thrumming buzzing under his skin accumulating until it finds a conductive path that allows it to discharge, that path being more often than not Leo.
"I like your interpretation more." The son of Jupiter says once they pulled apart, staying close. "It's better."
"Mmmh, yours has a nice ring to it." He muses. "It's really demigod-like. Let's keep both."
"Okay." Jason agrees, playing with his curls absently. "We do both." He smiles, fishing his camp necklace out off is pocket, putting it on. "I can do both."
