Climb (Percy Jackson x Reader)

twenty-seven

✺ LOSSES AND LESSONS ✺

Percy couldn't fight the caution that swirled inside him when Apollo had stepped into the small motel room.

The way he'd lowered into a slight bow to thank (Y/N) for holding the door open, the bounce of his curls when he flicked them off of his forehead and flashed his teeth at her in an unbelievably proud grin, the light that gleamed around his figure and from deep within his eyes which shone like the sun—such a brazen, casual display of his power and charm had sent Percy's mind reeling. The god, while his years of age were uncountable and his children were practically family to the daughter of Persephone, seemed to be presenting himself as yet another teenager who had taken an interest in Camp Half-Blood's most renowned warrior.

Disgust had brought bile to Percy's throat.

Within his twisting stomach, he could feel the prowling monster that always showed around her. It wanted her—to curl up in comfort when it knew she was with it. And it needed to be wanted by her. It snapped its jaws, yearning to lunge for the threat to her interest . . . and eliminate it.

Percy had pulled his shoulders back, swallowing tightly. He didn't bother greeting Apollo, instead watching (Y/N)'s movements with care as she shut the door and turned to the god.

"So," she'd said, maneuvering between Apollo and Percy. Her shoulder brushed Percy's in her stride, and the monster had purred contentedly, sending a gentle vibration up through his sternum. She sat on the edge of her bed, her focus trained on the god. "How are you planning to help us, exactly?"

Percy had struggled to listen entirely to the response, electing to roll the room's desk chair closer to (Y/N)'s bed. Apollo sat on the edge of Percy's mattress, cringing at the way it voiced apparent pain. Percy examined every expression that passed over the god's face, noted each mannerism that hinted at flirtation or interest.

Percy found himself—and his trigger-happy monster—growing agitated just by the way Apollo talked. The corner of his lips quirked up in a perpetual smirk; his eyes shimmered with emphasis for the most unnecessary words; and his words practically danced on the air with smooth, melodic sweetness. It was like they'd been drenched in honey and classical music.

It infuriated him.

The son of Poseidon had clenched his jaw, giving his head a firm shake. Giving in to the appeals of jealousy would do him no good, now. Especially when he begins to comprehend the sickly-sweet words, begins to realize the weight they held.

He tells the monster to shut up, redirecting his attention.

"Well," Apollo was saying, and Percy's muscles tense at the smirk that remains plastered on his face, "I'm the god of prophecy, of course. So I knew you two would be questing for the Tablet of the Arai."

His gaze flickers to Percy, and the half-blood tries to wipe any remnants of displeasure from his expression.

(Y/N) nods. "Meaning you knew that we would plan to ask you for help."

"Exactly," Apollo replies. The natural upturn of his lips begins to fall. "But do you know why?"

(Y/N) shrugs, pushing some of her hair behind her ear. She'd let it loose from how Percy had tied it before. His fingers twitch, longing to feel it again.

"When I read it briefly," she says, absentmindedly rubbing at her palm, "I could make out the word 'origin.' I figured that since Will was the first person to show anything from the curse, the god needed to lift it would be you."

Apollo runs a hand through his hair. Golden rays scatter with the displacement. "That's a fair assumption, (Y/N)." Percy's fists tighten at the sound of her name in his mouth. "Most people wouldn't even get that far. Many haven't."