Of Greeks And Romans (Leo Valdez x Reader)

L

Frank

One look out the window,  and Frank knew he was in trouble.

At the edge of the lawn, the Laistrygonians were stacking bronze cannonballs. Their skin gleamed red. Their shaggy hair, tattoos, and claws didn't look any prettier in the morning light.

Some carried clubs or spears. A few confused ogres carried surfboards, like they'd shown up at the wrong party. All of them were in a festive mood—giving each other high fives, tying plastic bibs around their necks, breaking out the knives and forks. One ogre had fired up a portable barbecue and was dancing in an apron that said KISS THE COOK.

The scene would've been almost funny, except Frank knew he was the main course.

"I've sent your friends to the attic," Grandmother said.

"You can join them when we're done."

"The attic?" Frank turned. "You told me I could never go in there."

"That's because we keep weapons in the attic, silly boy. Do you think this is the first time monsters have attacked our family?"

"Weapons," Frank grumbled. "Right. I've never handled weapons before."

Grandmother's nostrils flared. "Was that sarcasm, Fai Zhang?"

"Yes, Grandmother."

"Good. There may be hope for you yet. Now, sit. You must eat."

She waved her hand at the nightstand, where someone had set a glass of orange juice and a plate of poached eggs and bacon on toast—Frank's favorite breakfast.

Despite his troubles, Frank suddenly felt hungry. He looked at Grandmother in astonishment. "Did you—"

"Make you breakfast? By Buddha's monkey, of course not! And it wasn't the house staff. Too dangerous for them here. No, your girlfriend Hazel made that for you. And brought you a blanket and pillow last night. And picked out some clean clothes for you in your bedroom. By the way, you should shower. You smell like burning horse hair."

Frank opened and closed his mouth like a fish. He couldn't make sounds come out. Hazel had done all that for him? Frank had been sure he'd destroyed any chance with her last night when he had summoned Gray.

"She's...um...she's not—"

"Not your girlfriend?" Grandmother guessed. "Well, she should be, you dolt! Don't let her get away. You need strong women in your life, if you haven't noticed. Now, to business."

Frank ate while Grandmother gave him a sort of military briefing. In the daylight, her skin was so translucent, her veins seemed to glow. Her breathing sounded like a crackly paper bag inflating and deflating, but she spoke with firmness and clarity.

She explained that the ogres had been surrounding the house for three days, waiting for Frank to show up.

"They want to cook you and eat you," she said distastefully, "which is ridiculous. You'd taste terrible."

"Thank you, Grandmother."

She nodded. "I admit, I was somewhat pleased when they said you were coming back. I am glad to see you one last time, even if your clothes are dirty and you need a haircut. Is this how you represent your family?"

"I've been a little busy, Grandmother."

"No excuse for sloppiness. At any rate, your friends have slept and eaten. They are taking stock of the weapons in the attic. I told them you would be along shortly, but there are too many ogres to fend off for long. We must speak of your escape plan. Look in my nightstand."