Apologies for the late-in-the-day update! I've been at work D:

To Riordanlover16- Christmas time chapters are very weird to write in springtime :O I will get to your other stories, I swear, but bear with me for a bit! I have a schedule for my writing right now and I need to focus on that. But I will get to them! Keep reminding me, each review! :D

To everyone- y'all gonna love this one ;)

"Why would you tell him that?!" Louisa despaired. Mr. D shrugged a shoulder, popping open a can of Diet Coke. He took a long, pointedly slow slurp of it, purposefully dragging it out. Louisa was tempted to ram it up his nose, can and all, squashing her hands between her knees to resist the urge.

"Ah," Mr. D finally smacked his lips, "that's better. What were you saying?"

"You told Leo—" She faltered, bowing her head. Why did Leo always make her face feel hot? Her face, down her neck, heat prickling into her chest. "I can't believe you told him," she muttered. "I was talkin' about paintin', not—" She fell quiet again, biting the inside of her cheek. Mr. D bobbed his head.

"Well, I figured someone had to."

"No!"

"Yes. You clearly hold great affection for the boy, though I cannot fathom why." He shook his head, mystified beyond all reason. "If you won't say it, I will. What's this?" He cupped a hand behind his ear. "All these hours I've lost hearing about the great Leo Valdez and now I'm actually willing to put up with it, you've gone quiet?" He tutted, shaking his head. "You've never been one to hold back your thoughts, may I remind you? Why start now?"

She glared at him but did not answer. The god sighed, stretching out on his couch and crossing his feet at the ankles. He threw a Snausage at Seymour, the leopard head snapping it up gleefully. Louisa remained on the sofa opposite, teetering on the edge. Her shoulders were hunched, her hands still clasped between her knees. She was a coiled spring, a Gordian knot of stiff limbs and anxiety.

Mr. D didn't look her way as he spoke, staring up at the ceiling. "Why do you hold yourself back from him?"

"Why d'ya think?" she snarled.

"He loves you. And you love him, though, again, I do not see the appeal."

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop talkin' 'bout him like he ain't worth shit. Everyone always talks 'bout him like that. It's not fair. He don't deserve that." Mr. D spread his hands.

"Prove me wrong." He felt rather than saw her temper rise, the air blotching with hitches of her power. He feigned ignorance to it, stroking his chin.

"What the fuck is wrong with everyone?" she demanded heatedly. "Everyone makes him out ta be an idiot, but they all come runnin' when they want somethin' fixed, don't they? He's not an idiot."

"Hmmm," Mr. D said. The room grew colder, the scent of the sea washing in. Seymour growled. Mr. D tossed him another Snausage.

"Nemesis called him the seventh wheel once, back on that stupid Gaia quest. I know it still hurts him, but he ain't. He ain't the seventh wheel, he ain't a spare part." The god yawned, stretching his arms over his head. Louisa wanted to stomp on his middle-aged cherub face. She settled with pelting him with throw cushions. "Fuck you! Fuck off! Leo don't deserve this shit!"

Mr. D batted away the third cushion, arching an eyebrow at her.

"Are you quite done?" She was on her feet, launching another cushion. On realising she had run out of cushions, her fists clenched and she growled.

"Leo is kind," she defied. "He is kind 'n' funny 'n' clever as fuck 'n' no-one ever sees it 'cos they all treat him like a joke, even now! He's been pushed ta the side his whole life 'n' no matter what he does, people still look at him like somethin' they trod in! Fuckin' leave him alone! Hasn't he done enough?"

She stormed from the room, literally. The blustering beginnings of a hurricane swept pictures from the wall and shook the ceiling light. Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance.

Mr. D smiled to himself.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said as the front door slammed shut. "Same time as always."

Louisa fumed to herself the whole way across camp. Mr. D and his fucking high and mighty attitude. Lying down for a fucking nap while he was supposed to be helping her. What, did her therapy not matter now? Was he bored of her, was that it? What more did he want from her? She had told him everything, everything. Every story behind every scar, physical and mental. She had unearthed things she hadn't thought on in years, things she hadn't even realised she had forgotten— Arnie's love of daffodils, for one. How could she have forgotten that? He had loved daffodils, had said his mom used to plant them for spring.

She knuckled her eyes, inhaling shakily. Wrung out, she was. Wrung out more from therapy than she was her training with Percy. Her sessions with Mr. D were exhausting and painful, like he was peeling layer after layer after layer from her, each one ripping away to reveal another tormenting sore beneath.

Would it ever end?

She looked up to see the command tent only metres away. Voices inside, though when she pushed the flap aside, she saw it was only the Jacksons.

Percy was sat in Leo's usual chair, Tobias on his knee. Tobias was chewing on a cookie, chocolate and crumbs dabbling his cheeks. Annabeth sat at the head of the table, pencil poised over the paper as Louisa came in.

"You're supposed to be with Mr. D," Percy said.

"I left," Louisa mumbled.

"Why? Did he upset you?" He got to his feet, passing Tobias to Annabeth. "If he's upset you, I'll—"

"I'm fine. Just… tired." She scanned the tent again, though it was very obvious something was missing. "Where's Leo 'n' Bradley?" Annabeth pulled on her husband's arm, making him sit back down. Percy was not happy with this, cracking his knuckles irritably. He too wanted to stomp on Mr. D's middle-aged cherub face. Louisa could feel it as well as she had felt the temptation herself.

"They went to Bunker Nine," Annabeth said kindly. "Leo had some… work to do, apparently." She shrugged. It wasn't that big of a deal, their plans completed now and awaiting duplication for the relevant teams, but still… slacker.

"OK. Thanks." Louisa spun on her heel and marched back out.

She skirted the main body of camp as best she could. It was quieter in the winter than it was in the summer, but ever since Percy had made the gods promise to claim their kids, it was always busy now. Thankfully, no Big Three kids, but plenty of other demigods that she did not want to weave through presently.

Bunker Nine opened for her at a touch, its light gilding the snow about her in gold. It was much warmer inside— she had left her coat in the Big House— and she stomped snow slush from her boots on the threshold.

Leo and his siblings had done well with the bunker over the years. It no longer reeked of abandonment, but machine oil, smoke and something like freshly mown grass. Every station had been assigned to a camper, though a few remained unclaimed. Projects finished and half-finished and never-to-be-finished-because-it-had-exploded-and-nearly-killed-everyone were piled here, there and everywhere. Racks of tools and shelves of parts and buckets of bolts and all the other things that sent the Hephaestus bunch into a tizzy every time. Everything they could ever possibly need was in this bunker and they had hardly even scratched the surface.

Leo was at his station, one of the bigger ones. It was almost in the centre, though shielded from neighbouring workstations by workboards smothered in pinned ideas and plans and giant red toolboxes. He had his back to her as she approached. Bradley was sitting in his baby chair on the table, at Leo's elbow, awake and kicking his feet like they were a new discovery each time they stilled. Every kick made the chair bounce and Bradley beamed, drooling and kicking all over again.

Louisa had a wild thought he would kick and bounce himself off the table completely. Then she saw Leo had clearly had the same idea. The baby chair had a metal frame for the base and Leo had weighed it down with sandbags.

Leo said something then, making her jump. It took her a moment to realise he wasn't talking to her but to Bradley and another moment to realise he hadn't spoken in English. She recognised 'chiquito' at the end, the rest of the Spanish falling around her like roof tiles in a tornado. That blasted green owl hadn't taught her as well as it had thought for she clearly had no idea what Leo was saying.

He was showing Bradley whatever he had been working on, holding up a plan for something. Bradley cooed and dribbled some more, his seat bouncing wildly. Leo caught the top of it and slowed it, laughing. "You'll make yourself sick again, mijo."

"Mijo?" Louisa repeated. Leo startled and whipped round.

"Don't do that!" he demanded shrilly, hand on his racing heart. "Dios bueno!" Louisa smiled apologetically. He wrinkled his face at her, turning sharply back to his desk to smooth his plans down.

"What's 'mijo'?" she asked once he had calmed down.

"It's… uh…" He glanced at Bradley, fidgeting with his pencil. "Well, it's… it's short for 'mi hijo', my… my son. I can… I can go back to calling him 'chiquito', if you prefer."

"No. Call him both."

"Are you sure?"

"Stop askin' me that. He's your kid too."

"I know, but…" He hesitated. "I… I don't want to overstep anywhere, I—"

Louisa felt her temper twitch. Not at Leo, but for Leo. She had asked him to be involved with Bradley, a decision that was right at the time and was still right today, but here he was doubting himself. Waiting to be kicked aside again when someone better came along.

"Are you gonna teach him Spanish?" Louisa asked, battling to keep her voice level. "You was talkin' ta him in Spanish."

"I was," Leo agreed. He jostled Bradley's foot, smiling when that brilliant, chubby-cheeked smile flashed his way. "I can—"

"Teach me too," Louisa finished for him, overwriting him. "You're not oversteppin'. Fuckin'… I overstepped callin' him Valdez 'n' you never told me off."

"It's a good name to have," Leo said dazedly. They stared at each other, neither saying what they thought for neither knew they shared the same idea. She didn't match.

Leo canted his head. Her gaze fell on the new scar on his neck. "Aren't you supposed to be in therapy?"

"Yes."

"But you're not."

"No. I… walked out."

"Why?" She looked away, clutching the hem of her shirt.

Why, he asked. Why? How was she supposed to answer that? She had walked out after losing her temper. She had lost her temper because Mr. D, like everyone else, put Leo down when he wasn't even there, couldn't even defend himself. Don't see the appeal, not of your calibre, not what I expected for you.

Why did everyone do that? Why did everyone look at him and peg him as trouble, as no good? He was Leo, he was… he was kind and funny and clever. He had a grin as bright as any fire he could conjure, eyes twinkling with mischief. He wasn't big and beefy like the other Hephaestus kids, but he wasn't scrawny either, not anymore. He was lean and wiry. He was quick-witted and good with his hands, he had the patience of a saint and he had dived in headfirst with Bradley and… oooh, Mr. D, you sneaky bastard.

He had wound her up, purposefully wound her up so she would seek out the comfort he had been ridiculing, so she would seek out Leo.

She was going to stomp on his middle-aged cherub face still, but maybe not as hard as she would have half an hour ago.

A hand waving in her face. Leo had moved over to join her, grinning when her eyes landed on his. "Hey," he said. "Welcome back. This is Bunker Nine. That there is Bradley, I'm sure you've met. I am Leo. That is Le-o, otherwise known as Supreme Commander. I will also accept Super-sized McShizzle, Admiral and Almighty Overlord." He nodded. Louisa stared at him, that earlier heat prickling in her chest now wriggling to her stomach and settling there, bunching and unbunching.

Leo touched his chin. "Is there something on my face? Bradley, did you draw on me?" In response, Bradley set his chair rocking again. Leo had pushed him further to the back and added more sandbags, making sure he didn't go anywhere while Leo wasn't in arm's reach.

Don't do it, some tiny voice hissed to Louisa. Don't do it, you'll regret it.

I'll regret it if I don't do it.

See sense, woman! You're not ready.

Will I ever be?

You can't do it.

I can.

You can't!

I can!

Don't!

Do!

"Fuck it," Louisa said. Leo looked at her, bewildered, though he had not a second to process what was going on. She grabbed his hoodie with both hands and yanked him close. She was kissing him, her grip vice-like, and all thought deserted Leo. His hair was definitely on fire.

She had caught him off guard and he didn't know how to respond.

Do something!

What?

Anything!

She pulled away, doubt and regret bristling around her. Leo whined as her hands fell, as she took a step away, arms encircling her waist to pull her back.

She made a 'mmph!' sound when he kissed her. She fitted to him and him to her, his arms about her and hers, once she got over the shock, about his shoulders, a hand in his hair. Leo could feel his jackhammer heart kick-starting and he could feel hers too.

She was shaking, Leo realised, breaking the kiss. He didn't want to, but he did, laying his forehead to hers.

"Are you OK?" he mumbled. Her breath tickled his cheek and he touched hers, tears staining his thumb. He smiled, kissed her nose. "I've wanted to do that for years and you… 'fuck it'? I've waited all this time and you say 'fuck it'?" She sniffed, a hushed laugh. There was a nod, discernible just so. Leo smiled wryly. "How romantic."

"Years?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"No." He kissed her again, soaring back to all the infinite clouds. "I'll always wait for you." She smiled, her hands coming round to frame his face.

"No more waitin'. I'm here."