Percy would say his love language is Acts of Service.

Every time he gets a chance to do something for his lover, he jumps to it with a smile one his face no matter what it was. He loved and craved seeing them smile or laugh every time he came up to them and showed them what he did. He strived to keep his partner happy and relaxed.

But he felt his heart crumble from under his security after seeing his partner come back from a quest.

Percy had his fair share of injuries when he went off to his own. He brushed off his injuries countless times for numerous reasons. But he couldn’t let his love do the same.

He watched as they sat on the edge of his bed, bandaging up a gash on their arm. His hands itched to sit by their side and swat their hand away while he fixed them up. Maybe it was the natural mother hen reaction he had. Either way, his jaw instinctively flexed when they heard them make a small sound of pain.

His hands clenched and unclenched with worry, the muscles under his eyes twitching under a rapid pulse of emotion.

Percy grew impatient, dropping his once crossed arms to his sides while striding over toward them. He ignored their protests, carefully removing their hands from the wound. “Here,” He mumbled, taking the gauze and wrapping the cut.

He had grown to be an expert to taking care of injuries (after many lectures from Annabeth on how to properly do it after many infected ones). Percy’s movements were precise yet light enough not to cause further pain.

He hated seeing them in any sort of pain and this is no different.

He felt their hands touch his in reluctance before he lifted his gaze up at them, his eyes filled with worry and adoration. “Please.” He practically pleaded with them, his hold gentle when he squeezed their hand.