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Jason’s legs are cramping up, but he remains in a low crouch. He is hiding in an overgrown bush.
Why, might you ask?
Well, Jason Grace, the son of Jupiter who was promised, arrived in the coastal village of Geroskipou a little over thirty minutes ago. It’s early in the morning, so early that the sky is tinged pink by the barely risen sun. Having studied maps of the village back in Rome, he had already known where the temple of Aphrodite is situated and made his way there, ready to draw the legendary blade, Anaklusmos.
He’d spent months travelling here from his villa in Rome due to receiving a prophecy from the great sibyl (well, one of them) and fought monsters of all kinds, escaping within an inch of his life. This prophecy is known by most, and if he’d timed this correctly as he initially planned, the whole village would be here now, watching eagerly as he pulls out the blade.
However, since he arrived at an ungodly hour, the entire village is still - understandably - asleep. Having reached the temple, he’d found that he wasn’t alone as he would have expected. There is a man standing before him… a really hot man. He has black hair and green eyes, although Jason can’t tell what shade they are from this distance.
Logically, Jason had used this man’s certifiable hotness as justification for jumping into a bush.
Currently, the man in question is rifling through gardening tools piled up in a wheelbarrow, humming a tune that sounds like a lullaby. Jason decides that it wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume that this man is a gardener. Having found the tool he was looking for, he lifts his head and smiles. Jason stifles a gasp at the dimples that appear in his cheeks. The gardener turns around and starts hacking at a thicket of overgrown weeds and grass.
It’s then that Jason shakes himself and brings his mind back to the task at hand. The prophecy. What’s he meant to do now? He could get up and make his way towards the gardener, professing his status as the chosen one and telling him to step aside and tremble at Jason’s excellence. However, that would mean he’d have to fumble his way out of the bush he was currently in. That would be wholly undignified and unbecoming of a hero - heroes don’t fumble, they strut.
Not to mention that he’s already got grass plastered across his toga and probably all sorts of woodland creatures crawling around in his hair. He’d rather die than have someone see him in this state, especially someone so attractive. There’s no way he can compare while looking like he’s trying to create his own at home forest… using his body. No, leaving his hiding place was out of the question. He’d just have to wait here till the gardener leaves and then come back later. Besides, how long can it take to clean up some weeds? Not that long, right?
Wrong.
An hour later, Jason is still crouched in the bush. Well, he figures that it’s been an hour, having made an educated guess using the position of the sun. The gardener is still hacking at weeds and Jason finds that his patience is starting to wear thin. But no matter how much his legs feel like they’re on fire, he can’t let himself get up. It simply goes against his morals to put himself through the self-imposed torture of having a subpar appearance. But by the gods, this guy is really making him work for it.
And really, who in their right mind is up at his hour? Jason decides to ease the pain a little by shifting from a crouch into a kneeling position. Immediate relief sweeps through him and he has to clamp a hand over his mouth, stopping himself from making too much noise. He shifts his focus back onto the gardener. All Jason can really do is sit and watch. And so that’s what he does.
Maybe he’s watching a little too closely, but in his defence, he has a great view. The man’s lean back muscles ripple under the fabric of his blue chiton. His body is poised in a position for maximum efficiency as he hacks away at the imposing weeds, and Jason is enjoying every second of it. That is, until the gardener suddenly trips, mid-cleave, and reaches a hand out to balance himself against one of the exterior walls of the temple.
A long string of expletives leaves his mouth as he rubs his wounded foot in consolation. Jason’s eyebrows creep up his forehead, impressed by the extensive vocabulary of this man. He sure has a mouth on him.
The gardener leans down, presumably looking at whatever had caused him to trip, and bends, reaching out his arms. He pulls something out of the ground and lifts it above his head, a disgusted look on his face. Jason’s heart skips a beat as he processes what he’s seeing: this man - a gardener - holding the legendary sword, Anaklusmos, in his hands. Jason stifles a yelp as the man flings it to the ground, all but dismissing the greatness of the object before him, and continues his gardening.
Jason falls back on his ass in the bush, slack-jawed. What the fuck just happened?
At first, he’s too stunned to think properly. The shock comes in waves, which Jason allows to wash over him. Then the anger kicks in as an immediate response to his helplessness in this situation, but nevertheless he holds his peace. He can’t give himself away now. He has to figure out who this man is, and why he was able to pull out the sword that Jason is destined for - that only he should be able to retrieve.
He continues watching the gardener, thoughts racing a mile a minute. Jason processes that the man has stopped attacking the weeds and is now planting flowers in an aesthetic display in their place. Hydrangeas, plumbagos, periwinkles. Jason noted that this man has a thing for the colour blue. Interesting…
After the man finishes his display, he sighs and straightens. Jason watches a droplet of sweat roll down his neck. The gardener turns around so he’s facing Jason and, visibly annoyed, stools to grab the Anaklusmos. He gives it a final look of disgust before pushing it back into the ground, the same place that he’d found it. Jason’s eyes widen at this, dumbstruck, and he swivels his head to watch the gardener walk down the path and away from the temple, whistling.
When he gauges that there’s enough distance between them, Jason scrambles to his feet. He all but runs towards the newly trimmed thicket, having disregarded his scruffy appearance. He stops in front of the floral display and takes a moment to appreciate the work that the gardener had done: the flowers were mostly blue except for some purple ones thrown in here and there.
At first glance, the structure was organised and uniform, but when looking more closely it was clear that this was just an illusion. The flowers are arranged in small blocks, but within these blocks, and the distribution of each species is irregular. The abundance of each type of flower varies from block to block, and there seems to be no consistent pattern among them. And yet, it somehow works; it’s beautiful in spite of the chaos.
Jason can see why this man was hired to decorate the temple, assuming that he was hired and not just doing it for fun. Surely, Aphrodite would smite him if he hadn’t gotten permission beforehand? No, he was definitely a hired gardener, and with good reason. This work is divine. It makes complete sense why the gods would want him of all people to decorate their temples, especially Aphrodite in all her holy vanity.
Jason spots the sword hilt among a patch of plumbagos and bends down, grabs onto the hilt and pulls. Despite multiple attempts, he is unable to pry the mighty Anaklusmos from the ground. He steps around the flowers to avoid treading on them and slumps against the closest wall of the temple. He would’ve expected himself to be angry in this situation - anger would be understandable. But all he feels is curiosity. More accurately, he’s intrigued.
Who exactly is this raven haired gardener? Why was he able to retrieve the sword when Jason couldn’t? Does the sword belong to him instead of Jason?
He stares at the now blinding sun, contemplating.
It would be a lie to say that Jason didn’t know that what happens next is inevitable: his curiosity and piqued interest find him crouched inside that same bush - a week later. To his left, the mysterious gardener is performing the art of topiary, specifically shaping a large shrub to look like the spitting image of Aphrodite herself. Everyday for the past week, Jason has snuck into the garden at the same time in the early hours of the morning and hid in this bush. He has to give it to himself - he’d picked a great bush.
He’s spent so many hours situated in said bush that he’s figured out a comfortable position to sit in while spying on the gardener. Jason doesn’t condone espionage - he thinks it’s morally wrong and cowardly - but if the situation calls for it, it must be done. And so here he is, having spent a week spying on a stranger, undetected. He is oddly proud of himself.
As much as Jason has bent his morals for the sake of this man, he isn’t so far gone that he’d lost sight of boundaries. This was what had stopped him from entertaining thoughts of going to the village square and asking people about a black haired gardener… and from following said gardener home. He would’ve found out more information that way, but for the privilege of not having to label himself a creep, Jason had refrained from doing either of those things.
Besides, it was much more interesting observing the guy from this bush while he was gardening. The man was clearly passionate about his job and it was mesmerising watching him in his element. A couple days ago, the guy had (unwittingly) gotten close enough that Jason had discovered the exact shade of green of his eyes; in the light of the morning sun, they had sparkled and rippled, cresting like waves in the sea.
Lost in his thoughts, Jason doesn’t realise when until he hears a scream from directly above him that the gardener in question had come over to his bush. The gardener’s scream prompts Jason to scream. Soon after, the screaming stops and Jason is lying flat on his back, staring up into the sea green eyes that he’d been previously fantasising about. Gods, he probably looks hideous in this position, with his face contorted in shock.
He flattens his features in time for the gardener to ask him, “What the fuck are you doing in a bush?”
Spying on you . “Nothing, just fell asleep here last night.”
The gardener raises his eyebrows, unconvinced, “Uhuh.”
Jason gets out of the bush, carefully so as not to soil his toga… although that mission was in vain. Still, the Roman in him compelled him to maintain an atmosphere of dignity, or at least try to. Jason tilts his chin with the intention to hold his ground, but one look into the gardener’s sincere eyes has him melting and spilling his guts.
“I’ve been spying on you for the past week!”
Dammit Grace.
The gardener blinks. “Who are you?”
Habit takes over and Jason’s mouth utters words that he’d said a thousand times before. “Jason Grace, esteemed son of Jupiter, chosen of the great sibyl.”
The gardener gives him a once over, taking in his disheveled appearance. His eyes flick back to Jason’s, unimpressed. “Right…”
Jason deflects attention away from his current less than appealing state. “What’s your name?”
“Percy Jackson. Village expert in gardening and topiary.”
A hint of pride creeps into Percy’s voice at his title. Before Jason can respond with complements about his gardening skills, Percy seems to process Jason’s earlier response and his eyes widen. “Wait - you were spying on me?”
Jason reddens, “For the past week, yes - but I can explain!”
Percy’s eyebrows shoot upwards and he bares his palm, gesturing for Jason to continue. Jason clears his throat and, unlike the rest of this conversation, he considers his words before speaking, “I’ve been sent here to retrieve the sacred sword Anaklusmos.”
He waits for Percy to get the hint, but Percy just stands there, face blank and waiting. He realises that Jason’s waiting for him to respond and he says, “Okay.”
Jason stares at him, “ Okay ? Look, I saw you pull it out of the ground a week ago.”
Percy glances behind him, to the spot where Anaklusmos is buried among the plumbagos, and looks back at Jason. “Oh, you mean that old thing? Dunno why you’d want that.”
“Why would I want it?! Maybe because having it means being known as a hero and really, is there any greater honour?”
Percy surveys his nails, “I can think of better uses of my time, yes.”
Jason decides to be the bigger person here and not engage with Percy’s impertinence. He takes on a solemn exterior, and delivers his words with the authority that’s been instilled in him since birth, “I’ve given it a lot of thought while watching you and I’ve come to the conclusion that since I physically cannot pull the sword out of the ground, Anaklusmos clearly belongs to you. So there’s only one thing that this means: you’re meant to be a hero. Like me!”
Percy’s attention snaps back to Jason and, seeing that he’s serious, laughs in his face. While Jason doesn’t appreciate being laughed at, he’s intrigued to discover that Percy laughs with his whole body. Still gasping for air, Percy throws his pruning shears into his wheelbarrow. As he makes to leave the garden, he slaps Jason on the back, says “Good one!” and walks off down the path.
Jason is left standing beside the bush, watching Percy’s retreating figure. Instead of feeling down, he feels a spark of determination. Percy is meant to be with him on this journey; he can feel it in his bones. Jason just has to figure out a way to convince him…
Later that night, Jason runs out of money. He very quickly realises that in order to be able to afford accommodation, he has to acquire a job for himself. He gets out of bed, leaves his room and descend the stairs. He reaches the bottom and surveys the ground floor of the taberna that he’s staying at. There are drunks draped across stools and couples who are getting a little too handsy. This isn’t very surprising - the taberna itself isn’t the best quality - but seriously, it isn’t even that dark outside!
At least no one’s thrown up… yet. Jason shivers as he thinks back to the horrible retching that had woken him up a few nights ago. He steels himself and walks up to the bartender behind the counter, who also happens to be the owner of the taberna. To Jason’s delight and chagrin, he ends up getting a job as a part-time mixer. Fuck if he knew how to mix drinks, but hey - at least he’d be learning new things!
He’s never worked a day in his life, so it takes some time to adjust, but he’s accepted that he has to do this. It’s only temporary anyway.
Meanwhile, he continues to wake up every morning to go see Percy at the temple, except now he isn’t spying. Percy knows who he is and what he wants. So now Jason openly follows him around. It’s been fascinating, watching him rake and dig and trim and plant. Gardening is a lot more complex than Jason has ever given it credit for; it’s an art at its core, but also a science. He finds his respect for Percy growing steadily.
Jason has picked up on the fact that Percy is starting to get very annoyed at him. Each morning that Percy arrives at the garden to see Jason already waiting there, the murderous glint in his eyes becomes more and more prominent. Whenever Jason tries to initiate conversation, Percy shuts him down immediately, so really this is all Percy’s fault. If he’d just listen, then Jason wouldn’t have to pursue him. Really, Jason isn’t particularly enthusiastic about this arrangement either; he feels rather pathetic following Percy around like a lost puppy.
But this must be done, so he’s assigned himself to this role. Percy doesn’t seem to understand the necessity of his presence at Jason’s side, however, and his irritation increases. A couple weeks later, Jason arrives at the temple before Percy, as usual. He waits. And waits. Percy doesn’t show up. The sun creeps above the horizon and starts its journey across the sky, and still Percy isn’t here. Jason goes back to his room at the taberna, brow furrowed in contemolation.
He comes back the next day, and the day after. Same thing. Percy hasn’t finished his work at the temple, yet each day that Jason comes back, he sees that progress has been made. There’s only one viable answer: Percy’s changed his work schedule. That’s fine by Jason - he kicks back against the temple’s north-facing wall, content to wait there until Percy arrives. He’s already made the changes with his boss so he can switch to night shifts. He has a feeling that he’ll be well-acquainted with vomit before the week is done.
He pushes the thought out of his mind and, since he has nothing better to do, settles back and relaxes. Sure enough, during the late afternoon, Jason hears a whistled tune coming from the path leading to the temple. He jumps to his feet and there he is: Percy, wheelbarrow in hand, making his way towards the temple. He stops short when he sees Jason standing in front of him, but doesn’t seem all that surprised. He rolls his eyes, and puts the wheelbarrow down. He sighs and thrusts a shovel into Jason’s hand.
“If I’m gonna be forced to put up with you, you’d better make yourself useful,” he nods towards a patch of weeds clustered around a baby oak, “Start digging.”
Jason straightens, “I will be the best digger you’ve ever employed.”
Percy fights a smile that curls the corners of his lips, “Just shut up and dig, fool.”
Jason is able to work peacefully in the garden with Percy for a week before he starts his cycle of nagging, and Percy continues shutting down his advances. After a few days of this, Percy’s frustration reaches its peak.
He turns to Jason, pruning shears clenched tightly in his hands and says, “Okay, look. It’s clear that you’re not gonna stop bugging me, so we need to figure this out coz you’re driving me insane.”
Jason feels a flare of pride, “Agreed.”
Percy considers him for a long moment before asking, “After we’re done for the day, come to my house for dinner?”
“Yes. I mean, yeah, sounds good,” Jason responds, butterflies in his stomach.
“Cool.”
Percy turns back to the shrub whose leaves he’d been clipping and Jason mentally pats himself on the back. This is a step in the right direction.
Later that night, Jason is seated at Percy’s kitchen table, watching him chop vegetables and toss things into a pan. Jason couldn’t cook to save his life - there had never been any need for him to learn - and so he found himself transfixed as Percy rushed about the kitchen. A pang of longing aches in his chest at the domesticity of the whole thing. His mind drifts off, wondering what it would be like to have thus everyday - a companion in his quests.
The clang of a plate hitting the table in front of him jerks him out of his thoughts. Percy sets another plate opposite Jason and takes a seat. The rich aroma of spiced vegetable wafts towards his nose, and Jason leans in to break off a piece of bread and load it up. The taste hits his tongue and he shoots a look at Percy, full of disbelief. In response, Percy smiles, an endearing blend of smug and sheepish. He digs into his meal too and the two of them sit in comfortable silence.
That is until Jason wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and clears his throat. Percy tenses but continues eating, not even looking up. Jason waits but Percy seems determined to ignore him. He clears his throat again, “So…”
Percy’s head snaps up and he seethes, “No!”
“You haven’t even heard what I have to say!”
“Is it about the hero bullshit?”
“Yes. And it’s not bull-”
“Then my answer’s no.”
Jason poured all of his confusion and desperation into his voice, “Why?”
Percy pauses, lowering the chunk of bread he was holding and dropping it onto his plate. His eyes search Jason’s and, seeing Jason’s legitimate bewilderment, his expression softens. His shoulders sag and weariness settles into the depths of his eyes. “Because this is my life , Jason. I’m living it for me, not the gods. I’m not going to uproot my life for some dumb prophecy. What even is this prophecy?”
“I got it a few months ago from the sibyl. She told me to retrieve the sword. Anaklusmos. And that’s what I came here to do. But here’s the thing - I can’t. I can’t pull it out of the ground, but you can.”
He leans forward and grabs Percy’s hands. He locks his gaze onto Percy’s, daring him to back down and look away. His voice cracks with conviction, “It belongs to you.”
Percy scoffs, but he doesn’t look as unconvinced as before. “And how do you know that?” His eyebrows scrunch and a flicker of fear enters his eyes, “How can you be sure?”
“I just know. I can feel it.”
The intensity of Jason’s gaze causes Percy to swallow, throat bobbing and betraying the extent of his nervousness. All traces of sarcasm leave his face and he sits before Jason bare, “What… would being a hero involve?”
Jason tells him about how the gods send him on missions every couple of months. He tells Percy how he believes that this prophecy was given to him not so he could retrieve the sword himself, but so that he could discover Percy and have a companion on these quests.
Jason abandons his pride and the Roman arrogance that’s been instilled in him since birth, offering Percy the same vulnerability that he’s given Jason. He finally lets go of Percy’s gaze and ducks his head, “It- it gets awfully lonely.”
Percy squeezes his hand and takes some time to consider. “Would I still be able to do gardening?”
Hope sparks in Jason’s chest and he rushes to respond, “Yes, of course. Your skills are divine. Any town, village or city would be begging to have you.”
Percy blushes, a sheepish smile playing about his lips. Jason interlocks their fingers and adds, breathless, “See the world with me.”
He can see the gears shifting in Percy’s brain, and he holds his breath, awaiting judgement. Percy takes his sweet time and Jason starts to wonder whether it’s just to make him sweat.
Finally, Percy rolls his eyes and releases a long suffering sigh, “Fine, you obstinate fool. I’m in.”
Jason smile replicates Percy’s, and Percy squeezes his hands once more before letting go. They both turn their attention back to their forgotten food. As Percy shovels a chunk of bread and vegetables into his mouth, Jason decides he’d better start getting to know his new friend.
“So… where’d you learn to cook?”
* 3 years later *
Percy and Jason are staying in a rundown taberna, in Myrina. The city has better services, but when choosing accommodation, Jason had found that he’d grown fond of subpar tabernas. Percy didn’t mind; quite the contrary, he’d confessed that he actually found the obsession rather endearing.
So that’s where Jason wakes up, Percy’s body wrapped around his. Having recently tracked down and defeated the manticore, they’ve decided to spend the next week sleeping in and exploring the city. A patch of sunlight crept towards them from a gap in the curtain, bathing their bodies in sunlight. The sun prompts Percy to slowly open his eyes. Upon seeing Jason staring at him so shamelessly, Percy cracks a smile.
Helpless, Jason smiles back, “What?”
“Nothing, just… thinking about when we met three years ago. And how I made the right choice.”
Jason pulls Percy closer. It’s too hot to be sharing this much body heat but he doesn’t care and Percy doesn’t utter a single word of complaint. He kisses the tip of Percy’s nose, and then his cheeks and finally his lips.
Jason sighs contentedly, “And don’t I know it.”