you were one of the best swordsmen at camp— of course, not as good as luke— but you were one of the best.

so, it was no secret that you loved to spar with people— it didn’t matter who you just loving to spar. you had never really gotten hurt except for a couple scratches— or, that was until you had a spar with percy, and he had cut your arm by accident, jason being the person he is— he wanted to patch you up, he was your bestfriend after all.

so, he took you to the infirmary— not letting you walk in case “something was wrong with your leg”. typical jason.

so, as he got you to the infirmary, he set you down on the counter and checked for other wounds, standing in between your legs.

“does it hurt anywhere else?” he asked in a concerned tone— as you shook your head no, he sighed in relief. “okay— good”. he spoke before slightly dabbing ointment on the cut, so it wouldn’t get infected. “does this hurt?” he asked, making sure it didn’t hurt too bad, even tho it would likely sting.