Argo II always hummed at night.

It wasn’t loud — more like a constant heartbeat below the metal floors, a soft purr of bronze gears and celestial bronze veins, all breathing because Leo Valdez kept them alive. The ship was his pride, his baby, his brainchild… and his prison.

And lately, it was also your prison. Or maybe the two of you were each other’s.

Seven demigods on a quest, one prophecy, one flying warship… and you, squished into a room barely big enough for two — sharing a bunk bed with the boy who knew you better than anyone alive. Leo had been your best friend since you could stand. Since Camp Jupiter days. Since running around in dusty yards, and making stupid jokes you still remembered. Since before your godly parent claimed you. Before monsters. Before quests. Before destiny.

Leo Valdez. Your chaos twin. Your firecracker. Your partner in crime. Your family.

He was everything.

Except the boy you loved.

Because that spot — unfairly, painfully — belonged to Jason Grace. Jason, with the calm voice and the Roman posture and the impossible height. Jason, with the scar on his lip and the thunder in his blood. Jason who could lift you with one hand like it was nothing, who looked like every ancient sculptor’s dream.

And Leo hated it. Hated that he did everything — EVERYTHING — to make you laugh, to keep you safe, to understand you… and you still looked at Jason like he hung the stars himself.

It was sick. It was unfair. He knew it. And still — he loved you anyway.

Which made sharing a room with you on the Argo II actual demigod hell.

You were both in that cramped metal box again now, the small lamp flickering as you climbed the ladder onto the top bunk. Leo was pretending to fix something on the wall so he didn’t have to see your legs right in front of his face like that.

Because gods, you were taller than him. Everyone was, but you being taller hurt the worst. You’d joke about it — calling him “fun-sized,” poking his shoulder whenever you walked past — but at night he’d lie awake thinking:

She deserves someone tall enough to reach her without climbing onto the counter like a toddler. Someone like Jason.

And tonight? Jason had smiled at you during dinner. A slow, soft smile. Leo saw your face light up. He also saw Piper elbow Jason after and whisper something, and Jason blushed.

Leo wanted to yeet himself off the ship.

You lay down on the top bunk, blankets rustling. Leo exhaled shakily on the bottom one.

“Night, Leo,” you murmured, your voice warm, familiar, too sweet for his sanity.

“Night, princesa,” he mumbled back automatically, then immediately regretted it. It just slipped out. It always slipped out.

Silence stretched.