PERSEUS MEANS DESTROYER

Young God

But do you feel like a young god?

You know, the two of us are just young gods.

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Percy couldn't help laughing. He knew that probably wasn't exactly what happened, but in every lie there's usually a grain or two of truth.

"Gross, man! That's worse than me and Annabeth!"

Jason looked affronted. "Have you seen the way you two are? You can't keep your hands off each other!"

Percy flushed, tripping over his words. "Well that's... it's different, okay? I mean—"

Connor interrupted him with a snicker. "Okay Perce. Whatever you say."

What Percy had meant, other than the fact that, sure, he and Annabeth were a bit touchy-feely but that was just the way they expressed affection.

After what felt like several weeks in terrified silence, trying to avoid monster detection on the monster home court, and after everything, with her being kidnapped and forced to hold up the sky, with him blowing up Mount St Helens and vanishing off the map for nearly three weeks, her taking a knife for him, him disappearing again, for nearly nine months this time, her going down to the catacombs alone, and him diving to save her, the two of nearly dying in Tartarus over and again, the arai and their curses, nearly losing her, her nearly losing him... being able to touch each other was a blessing on its own.

It told him that she was safe, for now, now that they could touch—an arm here, brushing hands and hooking fingers as they passed each other, or engulfing her in a hug (or the other way around, but now that Percy was taller, it worked better his way).

What he meant was that yes, he and Annabeth did find it difficult to keep away from each other for long periods of time (Sally could tell you herself; long hours spent raving about Annabeth and how much he missed her sometimes, and could he please go to her apartment in the city for the weekend, he'll get home safely), but it was less because they were a new couple (like Jason and Piper, and even though they were technically new to this whole dating thing, they'd known and worked alongside each other for years before becoming official), and more because they had grown to rely so dependently on the other always being near in times of crisis—from the potential war when they were twelve through to the fight for Camp Half Blood, right up to standing together up on stage to deliver the annual speech recognising the lives lost and what they were lost for while clenching each other's hands to stop the tears.

"Whatever I say? Okay Connor. Go stand on Athena's table and... do the chicken dance."

Connor cackled and Jason looked taken aback. "What?"

"Uh... three drachmas and I'll do it."

Percy snorted and shook his head. "No deal, man. You said whatever, liar." He jabbed Jason's fork at Connor, which Jason promptly snatched out of Percy's hand and put back on his plate.

"You know what I meant—"

"Y'know, for the son of the god of thieves and liars and shit, you're pretty crappy with tricky wording."

"Well yeah, because I can just lie outright and most people will believe me. I don't need to be 'tricky with my words'. Loser." He shoved lightly at Percy's shoulder, pushing him into Jason.

His back hit the mattress too heavily not to hurt.

The sun had set hours ago; the display on his watch, the one from Tyson, told him it was nearly eleven at night, though he'd only just come in from the dark.

He lifted his left hand to see the face of the watch again, watching the second hand tick-tick-tick, ever forward, before letting his hand drop, throwing an arm across his face.

His eyes lolled shut as the watch ticked, and he drifted in and out of consciousness, vaguely aware of the hours passing without getting much rest. When he managed to sleep, his dreams were pervaded by heat and red and flames rolling down his throat and broken glass shores and fractured mirrors and the laugh he knew was his, snapping to awareness for a few brief seconds before being pulled back into the sleepless daze he spent most of his nights in.

The sun came roaring into his cabin the next morning, blaring light pushing away any dregs of sleep he might have been able to catch the tail end of.

If he was being honest, he felt like he'd been drugged.

His sleep schedule had been suffering as of late.

More than suffering, it was nearly nonexistent.

He couldn't sleep in the tower. He didn't much trust Natasha and Tony, and he was terrified that if he genuinely slept, something would find him.

In all honesty, he hadn't been sleeping well since Tartarus. It screwed him over. Him and Annabeth, and she had gotten the shorter end of the stick.

He knew he wasn't... normal. No 'normal' kid could blow up a volcano, or laugh in the face of slaughtering hundreds, if not thousands, of monsters. No 'normal' kid could collapse glaciers and drown armies, manipulate titans into turning on each other, or nearly kill goddesses.

And Annabeth had stuck through it with him. She'd seen him at his worst, and she's been terrified. She'd seen him at his worst and made him promise never to do it again.

And he'd made that promise because he loved her and the idea of scaring her away was torturous to him.

He groaned, rolling over to bury his face in his pillow. "Fuck off, I'm trying to sleep."

"No, you're not." The door to the cabin creaked shut behind the girl who had just come in.

"What? When did you get here?"

Annabeth scoffed, and Percy swore she was rolling her eyes even though he couldn't see her. "Your mom drove me down here the day before you. Chiron needed me to help him plan the placement of some of the newer cabins."

Percy groaned again, rolling over to prop himself up on one elbow. "How'd it go?"

She smiled softly. "Not bad. Jason's plans have really pulled through across at Camp Jupiter too, according to what Reyna told him the last time they spoke. How is your... job going?"

Tony's words drifted across his mind for a second.

Just don't be surprised when he turns on you.

Percy blinked.

He shuffled back on the bed as Annabeth walked over, dropping onto the mattress next to him. "He... he reminds me of Luke, a little."

Not the appearance or anything. But... something about him. Maybe because he was the Norse equivalent of Hermes.

Maybe.

Annabeth sucked in a breath, turning to lie facing him. "Why?"

With the way she was looking at him, he knew he might have gone too far.

Too late now.

"I don't really know. He... apparently there was someone."

Annabeth raised an eyebrow.

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First published ::: 13.09.22
First edit ::: n/a
Wordcount ::: 1145
Chapter dedication ::: n/a

<3

Yours,