I'm tryna find my way back, there's no day off for heroes. And even when I'm tired, go is the only word I know.

Percy Jackson comes with two names: your boyfriend and Spiderman (who doesn’t rest one day for his emotional and physical health).   He’s stubborn; you knew that. He wants to save Manhattan from villains and criminals. It was obvious, but he would just forget to take care of himself. Spiderman is a responsibility, blah, blah, blah, but how much can you take until you’re burned out?   Today wasn’t any different; you decided to visit him at the apartment he shares with his mother.

The second you swung open his bedroom door, Percy immediately shoved all of his hero gadgets under his bed. He was lying on his bed, holding a Spider-Man plushie of himself.   He glanced up and noticed you. He mentally sighs in relief, tossing the plushie in the corner. “Jesus, you could’ve knocked,” Percy remarked. His voice was filled with playfulness and a hint of sarcasm.   “I thought you were my mom; that would’ve been another story.” Percy teased, and he sat down on his rolling chair, swinging around. The room was messy; you already knew Percy was Percy; that boy couldn’t keep a clean room for the death of him.   But what you did see were a few Spider-Man merchandises around his room. He kept it simple: plushies, action figures, hell, even the shirt he wore was part of the merchandise he brought.   Percy noticed you staring at his room and asked, “What? Like the merch I brought? It’s pretty sweet.” He gloated; he couldn’t help but brag about it.

The merchandise was dear to his heart, and he felt appreciated that New York actually saw him as their friendly neighborhood Spiderman.   He pulled out his web shooters (that he had broken while on patrol) and began to repair them. He sat on his bed, motioning for you to sit next to him.

“Am I allowed to know why you decided to drop by, or should I keep my mouth shut and work?” Percy smirked, raising his eyebrow at you.