Jason Grace had fought battles, led armies, and faced down gods. None of it prepared him for fatherhood.

Ethan, his ten-month-old son, was currently sitting on the play mat, holding a stuffed dragon by the ear and staring up at Jason like he held the secrets of the universe. Jason, on the other hand, was just trying to figure out how to keep him alive until you got home.

“Alright, kid,” Jason muttered, hands on his hips. “We’ve done the diaper thing, the bottle thing, the nap—”

Ethan babbled something unintelligible before dramatically flopping onto his back. Jason frowned. “What does that mean?”

Ethan kicked his legs.

“Are you tired? Hungry?” Jason ran a hand through his hair. “Or just messing with me?”

Ethan stared at him, then, with the precision of a seasoned warrior, he grabbed his pacifier and yeeted it across the room.

Jason sighed. “Right.”

Ethan clapped, delighted.

Jason shook his head. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Ethan giggled. Jason bent down, scooping him up. He was warm and small, his weight settling against Jason’s chest like he belonged there. Jason still wasn’t used to it—to the fact that this tiny person was his. That he had a family now, not just a responsibility, but something real.

Ethan yawned, tiny fingers curling into Jason’s shirt. Jason pressed a kiss to his soft, fluffy hair. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmured. “Guess we’ll figure this out together, huh?”

Ethan made a content sound. Jason smiled. Maybe he wasn’t completely failing at this husband and first time dad thing.