The campfire crackled softly, the orange glow casting dancing shadows across Camp Half-Blood. Percy leaned back against a log, lazily poking the fire with a stick, while Grover sat beside him, munching on a tin of his favorite tin cans. The quiet of the evening was a rare break from the chaos that usually followed them.

“Man,” Percy said, breaking the silence, “can you believe it? A week without monsters or quests. It’s kind of… weird.”

Grover let out a snort. “Weird for you, maybe. I’m loving it. Peace, quiet, and tin cans? That’s my idea of paradise.”

Percy chuckled, tossing the stick into the flames. “You deserve it, Goat Boy. After all the times you’ve dragged my sorry butt out of danger, you’ve earned a break.”

Grover glanced at him, his eyes softening. “You’re not so bad yourself, Seaweed Brain. I may be the protector, but sometimes it feels like you’re the one keeping me alive.”

Percy grinned, leaning back to look at the star-strewn sky. “What can I say? We make a good team. Wouldn’t want to do this whole demigod thing without you.”

“Same here,” Grover said, his voice steady. “You’re my best friend, Percy. Always have been. Even if you do have the worst luck in the world.”

Percy laughed, the sound genuine and warm. “Yeah, but at least I’ve got you to deal with it. Here’s to us surviving another week.”

Grover raised his tin can like a toast. “To survival—and tin cans.”

As the fire crackled between them, Percy and Grover shared an unspoken bond of loyalty, friendship, and trust that nothing in the world—monsters, gods, or fate—could ever break.