A/N: This is still a spoiler-free story, as it was written before I read HoH and so is still factually continuing in my pre-HoH–established storyline.

Reyna was out running with the dogs Friday morning when they veered off the sidewalk and began hightailing it toward the coffee shop. She adjusted her gait to the uneven grass, reaching into longer, harder strides and pumping her arms for momentum, but she didn't try to redirect the dogs just yet—it would be a good challenge to use the last of her energy to keep up with them as they chased whatever had caught their eye. She assumed it was a squirrel or loose robot bird or something; then she saw Leo standing in line with Piper and Jason for coffee.

He noticed her before his coffeemates did. "Reina!" he called, grinning as he threw a hand up to wave her over, but the gesture was unnecessary: Aurum and Argentum were headed for him at full speed, and she was just barely managing to keep up. By the grace of the gods, they stopped before they bowled all three coffeeshop-goers over.

"Morning," Reyna gasped, balling her fists on her hips and doubling over so she could catch her breath while the dogs jumped up on Leo. Her face was hot, her entire body slick with sweat, and she couldn't help but regret that she had run into them before she could cool down and take a frigid shower. The three at least had the decency not to comment on how awful she looked.

"Keeping up the routine, I see," Jason said, earning a slightly perturbed look from Piper, and Reyna only nodded. Catching her breath and not cramping up were more important than making conversation. She flexed her calves, went up on tiptoes and then back on her heels. Sharp cramps shocked up her legs anyway—maybe the extra-hard stretch hadn't been such a great idea. Note to self.

Leo picked up on her soreness. "Hey, if you need a good masseur, you should be aware I run about ten degrees above average," he grinned, wiggling his fingers in her direction as he pushed the dogs back onto all fours.

She stared at him in mixed disbelief and surprise. "If I want your hands on my body, believe me, I will ask for it," she said in her most clipped, never in a million years tone, belied by her head tilting just an inch to the side.

He shrugged, still grinning and undeterred. Jason looked stunned by the veiled informality of the exchange, but Piper tugged both the boys forward to order their drinks. Reyna still felt disgusting, although her breathing was at least a little less raspy now, so she backed up a few steps and tugged on Aurum and Argentum's leashes. "I think we're going to leave. Finish up the run. I'll see you guys later." For a final grasp at dignity she nodded at them before she half-dragged the dogs back into the run, turning to make her way back toward her villa. She almost missed the drop in Leo's expression when she turned from him, and she chose to believe he would only miss the dogs.

By afternoon the dogs were barking, the legionnaires were rowdy, Reyna had a headache piercing the base of her skull (not to mention major cramps shooting up her legs whenever she moved), and Jason and Piper were getting reacquainted with the backs of each other's throats. It was not one of Reyna's more stellar days, so when someone handed her a cup of steaming hot chocolate, she had to suppress a sigh of relief. "Thanks," she said, honest warmth in her voice and her stomach as she took a sip.

"You're welcome," a male voice replied, and the cup was still at her lips when she turned in surprise to see Leo standing behind her, looking pleased with himself. His face dropped a bit when she popped off the lid and sniffed the liquid suspiciously. "There's nothing bad in it!" he protested. "No oil, nothing. I washed my hands just for you. Dios mio, reina, I'd think you didn't trust me."

"I don't," she said, her tone just a little arched, enough to brighten him back up. She wanted to reprimand herself for encouraging him, but looking at him, she couldn't quite bring herself to regret it.

Because Reyna was a sucker for self-punishment, though, her gaze drifted back to her fellow praetor and his girlfriend, the literal child of love and beauty. How en infierno was she supposed to have competed with that? She took a longer sip from her chocolate, this one less reassuring than the first. She was a daughter of war—strong, scarred, serious—with no charming voice or kaleidoscope eyes to speak of. A sword was more useful for stopping a man's heart than for winning it. And no matter how hard she tried, there was simply no way in Pluto she would ever be a true opponent in this particular arena. Was it even worth trying anymore? Of course it's worth trying, she immediately reprimanded herself, but it felt forced. How long had she been holding onto this, now?

"Did I ever tell you about the capacitor I was working on?" When she glanced at Leo, he was looking in the same direction as she was, a little mottled despite all his bravado. She shook her head no, and he turned toward her. "He kissed the diode, 'cause he just couldn't resistor."

A pun. One that, it seemed, he had chosen as a bridge from the situation to conversation. One corner of her lips twitched upward, reluctantly, and he grinned.

"What do you do with yourself when you don't have people around to bother?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Think of other ways to bother them, mostly."

"I never would have guessed." She looked away, out at the trees instead of at anyone in particular, and drank from her chocolate to hide her small smile.

"You don't have to look," he said suddenly, and she turned back to him in surprise, thumbing a dash of whipped cream from her bottom lip.

"Sorry?"

"You don't have to look at them if they bother you," he repeated, glaring at his feet, and even though he didn't name names, she knew exactly who he meant. He continued, the words tumbling out of him like he'd waited too long to say them: "Ay, Dios mío, reina, you're beautiful and powerful and frickin' awesome, but you're going to be miserable if you just stand around being lonely. Look at Annabeth, she's a leader like you, and scary like you can be, más que el diablo, and even when Percy was missing she kept at stuff."

She would never have expected that out of his mouth a month ago. The war had changed him, more deeply than most of the others. "Let me guess where you're headed with this," she said drily: "the first step to a healthy recovery is to go on a romantic date with you."

"That'd be awesome," Leo admitted with a half-grin, planting his hands on his hips, "but geez, just do whatever makes you happy. I vote for a pizza party, but maybe running works for you athletic people. Stick it to the man, and all that."

"Is this the advice you give yourself every time a girl doesn't work out?"

"Eh, do as I say, not as I do."

She laughed a little, small but honest. Then: "Did that coffee do something to your brain? That was all way too philosophical for you on any other day."

He laughed, which surprised her. She was funny? "I think I've spent too much time with Annabeth recently. And with Jason. She's all I See Through You, and he's all Let's Talk About Our Emotions. Blend 'em, and you get Deep Philosophical Leo."

She pretended to toast him. "Congratulations. You have officially surprised a praetor of the Twelfth Legion."

He swept her a bow, accidentally knocked someone on the waist when he flung his hand backward. "I'd like to thank the academy," he sniffled, melodramatically wiping an imaginary tear from one eye. She laughed in a kkhh sound and drank some more of her perfectly warm chocolate, commenting that she didn't know what kind of academy would take him but bless them for it. But he had had a point: she was tired of laying herself open with no reciprocation, tired of standing around wishing, tired of pining.

So Saturday morning she decided that it would be finished, one way or the other. Today is the day, Reyna decided as she braided her hair. She was going to be done pretending, done staying quiet. She was a daughter of war—she wouldn't run from a confrontation. For the first time she was going to go right up to Jason (they were both praetors, she could do that), take him aside, and say in her Honest But Controlled voice, I like you, I've liked you for years, and I thought you knew but can we talk about it? And in her head he responded with a concerned nod, and they sat down on a bench together with coffee, and he put his hand on her knee as, perfectly composed, she explained her feelings toward him—

Nodding fiercely at her reflection in the mirror, she straightened her clothes. Plain jeans and a loose purple SPQR T-shirt, no armor. It might help her make her point better, even if it made her feel vulnerable—no, because it made her vulnerable.

She smoothed a stray hair back into place, lifted her chin, and walked out the front door and around the corner to the praetors' offices. The battle plan: she would grab a hot chocolate for fortitude, and then she'd go back to the praetors' offices to find Jason and sort this mess out, once and for all. She was done carrying a torch if he wasn't willing to take it.

Luckily it was early on a Saturday morning, meaning no one was out yet—she didn't have to glide as smoothly as usual; her back could curve, her chin lower. The five-minute walk to the coffee shop was a small respite from expectations, others' and her own. But the moment she rounded the corner to get her chocolate, expectations truly did disappear. Two people were in fact out this early: Jason and Piper were sitting at her favorite table.

Reyna clenched one fist and evaluated the field. A minute before is worth an hour after, Hylla used to say. It was just the three of them out here; even the barista had gone inside for a minute. She could march forward and demand he talk to her alone now, but it looked like they were here on a date, so not only would that be spectacularly ill-mannered, it'd also be very likely unsuccessful. Better to wait. They hadn't seen her yet.

The reason for this, she realized after a moment, was glaringly obvious: they were too busy with each other. Not kissing, for once, at least—just smiling, laughing, talking in an undertone, so enwrapped in the other's presence that nothing else, it seemed, mattered. Strange. It occurred to her that she hardly ever saw the two of them together when they weren't swapping spit. Here, when they weren't teasing each other into blushing, they fell into companionable silence, simply enjoying each other's presence with faint smiles still tugging on their faces.

And Jason, sweet oblivious Jason, stared at the daughter of Aphrodite like he'd never seen anyone so beautiful in his entire life. And it was in that moment that Reyna realized that, for as close as she and he had been, he had never once looked at her like that.

"Your usual, Reyna?" someone asked, making her jump even though it hadn't been a loud question. She looked over to find that the barista had reappeared.

At the sound of her name, Jason and Piper looked over, looking surprised to see anyone else out and about. Jason threw her a wave, which she returned awkwardly. "Uh, no, I'll come back later," she said to the barista, turning in a jolt to make her way back to her villa.

This was a losing battle. It had been for a long time.

Without thinking she burst through her own front door and in a matter of seconds had tugged off her jeans and flats for shorts and her running shoes. The dogs were in the kennel, but to be honest she didn't want to get them. She just needed to think. She grabbed a full water bottle from the fridge out of habit and left.

Sparing only a few seconds for stretching, she pounded onto the grass at full speed, her braid and her shoulders swinging in tandem. Her vision tunneled so that all she could see was the ground in front of her, everything else blurring like she'd hit warp speed. For a brief moment, the familiar feel of her soles pushing her onto her toes and rolling her forward into a sprint was enough. The effort she put into elongating her strides and maintaining decent breathing in the crisp fall air distracted her, briefly. She tried to focus on the feel of the breeze on her face, the rolling dirt under her feet, but she didn't even get two miles before the breeze was burning her throat and her feet were hitting the ground too hard.

Mierda. Years—years—of pining. It was done.

Reyna pressed herself harder into the run, ignoring the pain in her throat. She ducked under a low-hanging tree branch and breathed out long through her lips. Maybe if she kept her oxygen levels high, she could last longer without slowing to catch her breath. It was just a little pathetic since she was only running laps around camp, but she just wanted to run, to leave really, and running was the closest she could come to that.

Oh—she really couldn't breathe now. She stumbled against a tree and put her hands on her head, slowing to a brisk walk just for now. Her legs and arms tingled with the sudden stop, the blood suddenly flowing more quickly. She needed to cough but couldn't quite summon enough air to do it, so she settled for thin, raspy, short exhales.

She was done, 1000 percent done, pining for Jason. She'd had a strong instinct it wouldn't work out, and she'd held on anyway, and where had that gotten her? Long workdays and a self-pity sprint. This run was the last of it. She would leave her infatuation in the past, where it belonged.

Though her lungs still burned for more air, and her throat for warmer air, Reyna pushed herself back into the run, glaring at the grass in front of her so that she could ignore the burning in her eyes as well.

The terrain began to slope uphill a bit, just enough that she could feel it, but she didn't let herself break pace. Instead she maintained her breathing pattern (raspy and uncoughable though it was), 1-2 breathing in big, 1 breathing out sharp. She came around the far east edge of camp, past New Rome and Temple Hill, and kept going, now heading back to the Principia. No matter how hard she ran herself, she decided, she would make it all the way past and around the praetors' villas before she stopped again.

So despite the slight elevation and the increasing bumpiness of the dirt under the grass, Reyna surged with the wind, her feet pounding and rolling with the bumps, her face hot, her calves starting to cramp up just a little. She shook her head no no no, like her body could hear and obey her thoughts, because if she was going to survive this she needed to make it past the villas, there was no other way.

Not breaking pace, she popped the lid off the water bottle with her teeth and squirted the cold water into the back of her throat, which helped a little. She swallowed, closing her eyes and struggling to reopen them, and when she tried to cough she still couldn't summon enough air for it. But she kept going, pressed forward, turning right again to make her way along the back of the Principia.

It was rocky back here. Her calves stung even more now, and even though she squirted more water into her mouth she was losing steam: when she blinked, her eyelids wanted to stay closed, lingering black, and her ankles were rolling a bit with the ground. Every smooth patch of land called for her; she ached to simply let her legs give out under her and collapse here alone behind the Principia—but she couldn't, not yet. Jason's villa was mere yards away.

So despite every muscle in her body screaming against it, Reyna forced herself to pound out one stride, then another, and continue on until she was wheezing but past the villas. Her breathing was totally out of order, and she stumbled twice before she was out of range.

Then, a spare rock catching her sole at a bad angle, she felt her legs crumple under her, hit the grass hard on her knees, and rolled into a fetal position. Blood tingled in every inch of her; her legs and lungs and throat felt like they could explode into flames. She should have stretched more, should have paced herself; she would regret that for the next few days. Her forehead resting in the dirt, she actually began to dry heave—or rather, attempt to dry heave, as she felt like all air had left her lungs.

"Whoa, are you okay?" A male voice, sounding concerned, spoke as someone trotted up from the direction of the city. She forced herself to roll over onto her side so she could look up: it was Leo. Of course it was Leo. The only member of his trio she hadn't had the pain of encountering yet today. She opened her mouth to snap at him, but all that came out was a thin wheeze.

"Carajo, you look awful. Does exercise usually do this to you?" he asked, trying for a joke, but she was still struggling to breathe evenly. He crouched down beside her. "You need help?"

"No," she managed, her tone sharp, but the effort started up the thin, ineffective coughs again, and she turned away.

Leo's eyebrows drew together. "That sounds pretty bad," he worried, and without asking permission he reached for her arm, lifted it (and her) up, and looped it over his shoulders. "Come on, drink some more of that water, and let me help you back to your place."

"I need to stretch," she insisted, feeling like deadweight on him. I probably weigh more than he does, she considered in a brief moment of normalcy. Ever accommodating, he set her back down and watched carefully as she spread and leaned over her legs, wincing as she reached for her toes and rubbed the spasming/shocking muscles on her left leg. Ugh, she would definitely regret this.

After another long blink she reopened her eyes to find Leo settling down by her right leg and holding up his hands. "Need any help?" he offered. It didn't seem to be a come-on this time, if his slight blush was any indication.

She eyed him. She had to admit, she was a little bit suspicious, but her leg did ache something awful. "You any good?" she asked finally, and when he shrugged yes she gave a regal nod, or as regal a nod as you can give when you're hot and sweaty and wheezing and cramping up like nobody's business.

But then Leo pressed his hand to her calf, and oh, she had to keep herself from sighing in relief. His fingers were thin but warm, warmer than the normal person's, and to be honest the pressure from him was several times better than the hot packs she was used to using after rough runs.

"Good?" he asked, tentative, hopeful.

She murmured a quick "mm-hmm" and had to actively return to working her left leg back to usability. As she rubbed the heel of her hand hard along her stiff calf muscles, she focused on evening out her breathing. More specifically, she did not focus on Leo's hot hands massaging her right leg to perfection.

After another minute of good flexing and stretching and rubbing, Reyna declared herself all right to walk back to her villa, and although she had half-expected Leo to take the opportunity to get back to doing something interesting, he helped her up and loped along beside her as she walked, slowly and painfully, back towards the Via Principalis.

"What were you running so hard for?" he asked, hooking his thumbs on his tool belt.

She screwed her face up in something like a smile, maybe closer to a grimace. "It was an educational day."

"It's nine in the morning."

"It was an educational morning, then." She refused to give him any other information; it wasn't really his business, and besides, she would rather not rehash the details of her pathetic failure of a love life, even if the disappointing "education" had been the push she needed to move on.

Leo didn't seemed terribly bothered at being kept in the dark. "Man, I knew there was a reason I didn't exercise. That looked nasty."

"It's not usually so bad," she allowed. "I didn't pace myself very well today."

He shook his head, letting his curls bounce everywhere. "Yeah, over by the ice cream shop, I saw you go past the first time, and then you were back so friggin' fast. I was really impressed until you fell over," he teased, grinning at her.

She pressed her lips together against a smile. "So you came over to see the tonta who ran herself so hard she got sick?"

"No, I wanted to make sure you hadn't died or anything." Leo struck a ridiculous pose, sticking his scrawny chest out and planting his fists on his hips. "It was my time to be a hero!" he announced, and at that she did laugh a little, looking away like he might not hear it that way. But when she looked back at him, he was practically glowing.

Something he'd mentioned earlier came back to her. "You were getting ice cream?" she asked. "I believe you pointed out it's nine o'clock in the morning."

"Every hour is happy hour if you have ice cream," he countered.

Her stomach rumbled a little at the thought; it occurred to her that she had not only passed on hot chocolate but also forgotten breakfast, which was probably contributing to her poor performance. And she happened to be aware that the ice cream shop had Belgian chocolate chocolate Häagen-Dazs in stock this week, maybe she could—no. Bad Reyna. She needed healthy snacks after a workout. She could get ice cream later.

The two of them stepped onto her porch, and without thinking Reyna held the door open for Leo. He blinked, surprised, but reached for it and followed her inside, lowering himself onto the couch when she went straight for the kitchen. "Where are your dogs?" he asked, raising his voice to be heard over the buzz of the fridge and the banging of her opening and shutting cabinet doors.

"Kennel." Not looking up from preparing her food, she pointed one finger to the door on the opposite wall, which led to her bedroom and, inside, the dog cages.

"Ah." He didn't seem to know how to respond to that, but it turned out he didn't need to say anything else—the dogs heard his voice and began to paw at the cages, rattling metal against metal.

"Ay caray," she mumbled. If they broke another pair of cages, she was going to go broke. Quickly she dropped a handful of blueberries and strawberry slices into her cup of vanilla yogurt and set it aside, striding as quickly as she could (on anyone else, she would have called it hobbling) to her bedroom to let the dogs out. "Take cover," she warned Leo just before she unlatched the cage doors, and two seconds later her greyhounds were silver and gold blurs headed right for the couch. She followed them half as quickly, picking her yogurt up from the counter on her way. By the time she sat down, the only parts of Leo that were visible were his hair and one leg. The dogs, it appeared, truly had gotten attached. Smiling ever so slightly, she tucked her legs over the back of the couch and settled into the crook of the armrest to take the first bite of her post-workout snack.

Leo wriggled halfway out from under the dogs, shoving Aurum out of his face when the dog tried to cough friendly flecks of oil onto him in greeting. "You know—unh!" he said, grunting as Argentum stepped on his stomach, "a little birdy named everyone ever has mentioned your dogs are, like, evil incarnate. Have you mentioned this, by any chance, to the dogs?"

Reyna dug up a big spoonful of fruit and yogurt. "It's the strangest thing," she admitted, lazily flexing her feet. "They haven't warmed up to anyone other than me in, well, ever. Maybe they like you because your dad made them."

"Or maybe because I'm the awesomest, most—ugh." Aurum hacked a big wad of oil right into Leo's mouth, which effectively shut up his joking bravado.

A small smile pulled at Reyna's lips even around her spoon. "Whatever the reason—they do like you." She hesitated before asking, "Would you mind taking over their repairs? While you're here, I mean. My life would be so much easier if I could stop filling out biweekly 'my dogs maimed another camper' paperwork."

"Maimings?" he echoed uncertainly.

The dogs barked like they were pleased with themselves.

Reyna shot them a benign stink-eye. "They get testy when most people try to mess with their innards, which personally I can't fault them for. And it's never been anything permanent." She reconsidered. "Well, there was that one time. But he was a real capullo, he deserved it."

Leo paled a little bit, but Argentum head-butted him playfully in the chest and cocked his head for more ear rubs. "I dunno, reina. I don't want to get maimed. I need to stay in one piece for all the ladies waiting to have a chance at me."

"Oh." Reyna hadn't realized she was opening herself up until the rejection stung her, like a nicely-meant slap in the face. Immediately, instinctively, she pulled her legs off the back of the couch, straightened her posture, closed off her expression. Ugh, she was an idiot. "No, sure, that's fine, I totally understand," she said, and started to push herself to her feet, but the dogs' ears lowered and Leo reached out and caught her by the arm.

"Sit down," he said, his brow crinkling and his eyes searching her face. He'd caught the change in her manner. Reluctantly she sank back onto the couch. "I can try my hand at them," he offered. "I mean, they haven't tried to kill me yet, so that's gotta be a good sign, right?"

Her eyes were on his arm where he still held her. Halfheartedly she tried to pull away, and she wasn't totally sure if she was pleased or not when he realized this and released her. "No, really, if you aren't comfortable—" she started.

"I'm up for trying," he insisted, more forcefully now, and a rebellious light entered his eyes. "Who knows, it could make a cool story for around the campfire: 'scrawny repair boy tames homicidal automaton dogs.' I can hear the fangirls now." He grinned at her.

She looked for fear in his face, or obligation, but couldn't find either. And the fangirls reference, as always, was more joking and wishful thinking than serious expectation. She waited for a "just kidding, your dogs would kill me and I'm not down with that!" but none came. So, then . . . did he really want to risk taking care of her dogs . . . just to make her happy? "Are you sure?" she pressed him. "It's really all right if you don't want to do it."

The dogs snuggled into him, and he faded from a silly grin to a smaller, more serious smile. "I am here whenever you need me," he said, and her own brow creased, because there was no way he meant it in the all-encompassing way it came across.

"Thanks, I'll . . . let you know when I want to make their appointment," she said, shifting uncomfortably and looking away as she scooped out the last bite of fruit and yogurt. "But, er, I need to shower and stuff, so you should probably leave." The getting clean part would be nice, but to be honest she really just needed the time alone, with icy cold water pounding on her back and wet hair dripping into her eyes. Maybe it would help her figure out whatever had just happened in the last half hour, the last week, the last year. The run had helped a little, but whatever emotions she had been feeling, was feeling now, was supposed to be feeling, were all muddled and knotted in her middle, and having him here looking at her like that wasn't clarifying anything.

So Leo nodded, quiet for once, and disentangled himself from dogs and loped out of the villa, lingering at the door. Aurum whined, his head on his paws, and Reyna rubbed him absently behind the ears.

On Sunday it rained, and Reyna had laundry and cleaning to do, so she decided to stay in for the day. It wasn't a work day—the camp could handle itself for 24 hours.

Aurum and Argentum didn't like being cooped up inside, but they at least stayed docile so long as she threw their structurally enhanced tennis balls whenever they brought them to her. This was harder at some times than at others, such as when her arms were piled high with dishes and she couldn't see her feet but the dogs wanted a ball thrown now.

By eleven her stomach was grumbling, so she plugged in her griddle and, as it was heating up, played with the dogs with one hand and picked ingredients out of the cabinets with the other. She was spraying canola oil on the griddle when, over the patter of rain on the roof and windows, she heard someone knock on the front door. Aurum froze, the ball in his mouth and Argentum crawling over him, and narrowed his eyes at the unknown visitor. Argentum rumbled uncertainly, flopping off his brother to prepare for Demon Guard mode, which Reyna was 98 percent certain was an actual mode in her automatons, even if the Vulcan mechanics couldn't turn it on and off. She waved for them to quiet as she set the can of spray oil down, walked out of the kitchen and through the living room, and opened the door to find pouring rain and Leo in rainboots and an umbrella, his hair even crazier than usual from the humidity.

"It's raining," he said drily.

"So I hear," she replied. A glob of water dripped from the umbrella onto his back, and he jumped with a grimace. She pressed her lips together in a smile. "You want to come in?"

He screwed up his face in a melodramatic picture of pain. "Por favor."

Reyna stepped back and held the door open; Leo had only shaken off one boot before he had to stave off his two biggest fans. "Ow! Down!" he yelped in a half-laugh, making Reyna chuckle to herself as she went back to the hot griddle. When he had fended the dogs back onto all fours, he joined her, Aurum and Argentum at his heels. "So, did that run totally kill you or what?" he teased, in a way that didn't feel mean. "I noticed you weren't at breakfast or lunch."

She gestured at her clothes as she dumped select vegetables onto the popping oil: she wore an SPQR tank top and sweatpants. "Clearly I was not planning on going out today. The run ended up fine. It's just that it's raining—I don't like being wet or cold."

He nodded emphatically, agreeing, "It is kind of chilly." It occurred to her that he probably felt the cold even more fiercely than she did, since his internal body temperature was higher than hers. Then he waggled his eyebrows: "Don't worry, I can heat you up."

Startled at the teasing come-on, she snorted and flipped the broccoli. In an effortful change of subject, she asked, "Have you had lunch yet?" one second before it occurred to her that of course he had, five seconds ago he said that he didn't see her there. She steeled herself for a cutting remark on her inattention, but none came.

"Yeah, but I always have room for more," he joked, sticking out his stomach and rubbing it. "Especially if you're offering to make it. Won't be scrawny anymore. Just call me Gordo Leo."

Fat Leo. "Right." She rolled her eyes but the tugging smile didn't leave her face. "Really, though, if you want some, I'm making plenty. It's probably much healthier than whatever you had."

He brightened at the teasing in her tone, doubtless sensing an opportunity for banter. "I'm very personally offended by that, reina. I'll have you know that I had two whole green beans on my plate."

"Did you actually eat them?"

"Gross, no."

"Nutrition doesn't work by osmosis, unfortunately for you." She glanced at him as she poured water over the vegetables, their eyes meeting as steam exploding over her hand. She jerked her hand back and returned to scooting the veggies around.

"You know, if you make meal-y things and I make snack-y things, we basically complete each other," Leo said, leaning against the counter and rubbing Aurum behind the ears. She felt her cheeks warm and pursed her lips, ignoring the comment. He began to sing, in a very off-key falsetto: "You can be the peanut butter to my jelly—"

Caught off guard by his silliness, Reyna's suppressed laugh became a snerk as she twisted away, trying to keep her shoulders from shaking. Then when she had control of herself, she glanced back his way, imagined that horribly out-of-tune love song, and began to laugh again.

"It wasn't that ba—okay, it was," he said with a grin. "My impressive skills do not include serenading pretty ladies."

Still smiling, she snorted and shook her head as she began to scoop the vegetables off the griddle and onto two plates. "Might have a hard time finding a job there, sorry." She turned off the griddle and began to sprinkle rosemary and basil over the food.

He was quiet for a moment, inspecting her and the food, and then he proposed, "Is this meal vegetarian? Not adding meat would be a missed steak."

She snerked again. It occurred to her that this was a pun-avoidable reaction around him and his jokes. "Stop," she ordered, handing him his plate and a fork. "You don't want to hear me laugh. Or pun."

"Challenge accepted, mi reina. Quick pole—north or south?"

"Rick Astley will let you borrow any movie from his Pixar collection except one. He's never gonna give you Up."

"Make little things count. Teach midgets math."

"I changed my iPod's name to Titanic. It's syncing now."

"How does Moses make his coffee? Hebrews it."

"I used to be a banker, but then I lost interest."

"I used to think I was indecisive, but now I'm not so sure."

"I dropped out of Communism class because of bad Marx."

Leo grinned. "You're an excellent punster, Reyna. Let no one tell you otherwise."

Reyna laughed and shook her head, lifting herself up to sit on the counter and eat her lunch from there. She found she missed the lilt on the R in her name, the Spanish context that only he appreciated. "I don't think so, but thank you anyway." She gestured to his plate with her fork. "Try it, let me know how it is."

Obediently he speared a slice of pepper and a broccoli head and stuck them into his mouth. "Shooper good," he said immediately through the mouthful, his eyebrows raising like he was surprised she could do such a thing. "How?"

"Magic," she said lightly, making him snerk for once. She took a thoughtful bite of her seasoned veggies and, after a moment, said aloud, "You know, your nachos were pretty mind-boggling too. I wouldn't be opposed if you wanted to bear such gifts again while I was working. If you wanted to, or happened to be in the area." She met his gaze and raised her eyebrows in mirror image of him. "Theoretically."

"What if I don't have any nachos?" he asked.

She shrugged. "As long as you don't try to pun me out of working, I might not make you leave."

Leo was practically glowing.

Monday had been a long day—longer with no visitors. Headache pounding in her temples, Reyna glanced at the clock again. Five til seven. The sun was going down outside her window. She'd barely made a dent in the paperwork, and Leo hadn't shown up once. Allowing herself one sigh, she twirled her pen in her fingers and turned back to initial Hazel Levesque's leave-of-absence permission form in fifteen places. It wasn't like I expected him to show up, she told herself unconvincingly. I extended an open-ended offer. It was his choice whether or not to take me up on it.

He all but said he would come, pointed out another part of her. He either forgot or changed his mind, neither of which means well for you. Good job, self, you scared off another one.

Reyna accidentally broke off the tip of the pen.

"Shit," she muttered to herself, throwing the ruined utensil into the trash and grabbing a tissue to dab up the ink that had spurted out at the break.

"Joder, that's no kind of language for a lady," someone joked from the doorway, and before she even raised her head she recognized the voice. Leo's head poked in, grinning a little more abashedly than usual. Once they made eye contact he let himself the rest of the way inside. Strangely, her stomach twisted at the sight of him.

"You're pushing it," she said, even though (though she'd never admit it) she was relieved he had shown. "It's getting to be evening. I could have been home by now."

"But you weren't," he said triumphantly.

"I should be."

He got distracted, by something about her, apparently. "You look different," he mused. "Not sure what it is, though."

On instinct she started to smooth her braid, but she caught herself in the middle of the motion and deliberately lowered her hand. It's just Leo, she reminded herself, put off that it was even an issue. Who cared what he thought? She went back to the issue at hand: "Anyways, you're still late."

"I know, that was my bad. I lost track of the time, and then one of your Hephaestus—"

"Vulcan."

"—mechanic campers needed help disabling a cannon prototype, which was kind of urgent. Don't worry, I wasn't canoodling or anything, querida."

For a moment she floundered, shocked both at the implied accusation (why should she care if he was "canoodling"?) and at the term of endearment. She decided to go with "Don't call me that," but it sounded a little feeble to her. He was still scrutinizing her, and she eyed him in return, smoothing her braid (damn it!) and straightening her shirt. Gods, she needed to stop.

"I've got it!" Leo crowed. "You aren't wearing your armor. Usually you do when you're working."

Reyna looked down at herself, although she had already been well aware that he was right. "I took it off a few hours ago. It's unbelievably difficult to fill out paperwork when you're encased in gold, f-y-i." She pronounced the shorthand with sardonic precision.

"You look smaller without it," he mused, tapping his chin as he examined her, thinking out loud. "I don't know, somehow you look more normal. Less like a fearsome praetor, more like a regular human."

She crossed her arms over her chest, a tad self-conscious. Not that she'd never thought such a thing, but to hear him say it, him specifically . . .

"I mean, it's about time you did," he rolled onward, oblivious, "no wonder everyone else is afraid of you, your armor scares them away—"

She felt her hackles raise before she could even put a name to why. She rose abruptly from her chair, her headache pinching her even harder now. "If you only came to criticize my personal choices, you are more than welcome to leave. Door's behind you."

Too late realizing he'd misspoken, Leo took a step backward, raising his hands. "Whoa, hang on, reina, I didn't—"

She began to snowball, even though she wasn't sure where the animosity was coming from. Did she really care that much about her armor? "You're already hours later than when it would have been acceptable for you to come, and your first choice is to point out my . . . ?" She took a deep breath, tried to collect herself. "You know what, I think it'd be best if you left. Clearly this was a mistake."

Whether or not it was, his face dropped. "Reina."

"Please leave," she said, and though it wasn't quite an order it might as well have been. Pointing at the door, hurt creeping into her tone against her will: "Now."

Confused, disappointed, he backed out of the room.

As soon as he was gone she sank back into her chair, her hands going to the thin fabric of her shirt. What was that? she asked herself. He hadn't really done anything wrong; she had overreacted. He shouldn't have pointed it out, another part of her butted in stubbornly. Whether or not I wear my armor is none of his business.

She liked her armor. But it wasn't like she wore it every day, at least not anymore. For the last week she'd hardly ever worn it when Leo was around—ever since she'd let him off the hook, he'd somehow managed to consistently catch her when her armor was off, for any number of reasons.

Actually, he really did have a knack for finding her out of armor—or coaxing her out of it. She liked the security of it, solid and warm, but she had to admit she felt lighter with it off. She could move more freely, laugh more easily. And laughing did come easily around him.

But that isn't the point, she reminded herself. The point was that he looked down on her armor, saw it as a bad thing, when really it was there for her safety. The layer of solid imperial gold protected her. It was only when she let that guard down, when she was small and normal, that people attacked her, or left her, or forgot her. That armor was all she had to defend herself with as an ineloquent praetor, and Leo wanted her to get rid of it.

Reyna wasn't even sure she could. She'd hidden behind it for so long that to make herself vulnerable like that again was almost unthinkable. With her Romans, with Percy, with Jason, even with Hylla, her armor always had to be up, flawless, just in case. But somehow, when she was with Leo, he was so open that she got the feeling that maybe, just maybe, she was safe to let it go, to be open too. That she didn't need to defend herself.

Vulnerability had for the first time been enjoyable. And in a moment of hasty anger, she'd demanded he leave.

Swallowing hard, Reyna reached out and steadied herself with one hand against her desk. Shit, she thought.

Was he even still here? He'd left without arguing. She went for the door, hoping against hope he hadn't gotten far, but ready to track him down if she had to. She opened the office door—and there he was, kneeling as he tinkered on a chair. (Had there been a chair there before?) At the creak of the door he looked up at her and she down at him and they just looked, for a solid thirty seconds. He read like an open book: concern, happiness, insecurity, hope flashed across his face. She stood in her own doorway, one hand trailing on the knob, the other pressed against her stomach.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, a phrasing she immediately regretted.

He was wary, but he was honest. "Waiting for you."

Oh, gods. Her hand left the door handle, reached out briefly toward him before retracting, and she blurted, "Did you build that chair just now?"

He chuckled, rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I wasn't sure how long I'd have to wait," he admitted.

Ay caray. Her eyes closed and she laughed, shaking her head a little, covering her mouth with the back of one hand, reaching out toward him with the other. This was not pragmatic. Logic had less to do with the decision she was about to make than fondness did, a bright warm fondness swelling in her at the sight of this scrawny sweet graecus who had never worn armor in his life, not like hers. With a deep breath, she mustered her courage, pride, humility:

"I think it'd be best if you stayed," Reyna admitted, and even though this was a statement she was questioning him, apologetic, cautious. This was his chance to run. He'd never have to see her with her defenses down again, not if he didn't want to.

Leo beamed, light dancing in his warm, dark eyes. "You bet," he grinned, and he reached up and took her hand.