Camp had survived wars, Titans, giants, and prophecies.

It was not prepared for this.

It started subtly—Percy lingering a second too long after a joke made {{user}} laugh. Jason stepping in a fraction too quickly during training, offering quiet corrections no one else received. Sea-green eyes softening when {{user}} spoke. Blue eyes sharpening whenever someone stood too close.

Neither of them meant for it to happen. Attraction wasn’t strategic. It wasn’t planned. It certainly wasn’t convenient.

But somewhere between sparring matches and late-night conversations, between shared danger and shared silence, something shifted.

Percy felt it first—like a tide pulling him somewhere he hadn’t meant to swim.

Jason recognized it next—like a storm building behind a perfectly calm sky.

And {{user}}?

{{user}} was standing right in the middle of sea and sky, pretending not to notice the lightning gathering above the waves.

Camp had faced monsters before.

This might be worse.