Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

So the class field trip to Arachne Labs wasn’t going as expected.

Which unfortunately, wasn’t unusual for Percy. Not that derailing plans was something he did on purpose, but it happened startlingly often for a guy who generally did everything he could to stay out of trouble.

Did getting locked in an empty lab constitute “trouble?”

Maybe not inherently, but considering the fact that this particular lab was owned by D.A.R.E. Enterprises, and worse, was so secure their class had to get special permission to even be allowed to tour…

He was dead.

So dead.

Guantanamo -Dead.

That is, if his mom didn’t kill him first. The moment Sally was informed her son had literally ( accidentally ) infiltrated a government contracted facility, filled to the brim with confidential information and tech….

…Okay, he was beyond dead. He was in decimated-from-existence-and-reality levels of trouble.

“Come on come on come on— “Percy desperately yanked at the handle, twisted at the bolt, dug at the seams of the entrance with his fingers, but the lock wouldn’t budge. He didn’t dare touch the keypad—with how his life was, he’d probably trigger a nuclear alarm or something.

He groaned, knocking his head against the door. He should have just asked where the bathroom was. In his defense, he had been positive it was through here.

It wasn’t.

So his lifelong curse of rotten luck had come back to bite him for the millionth time; it seemed to make it a point to thwart any good day he might have. At least it didn’t make Percy bitter anymore, so used to it that he expected things to go wrong, and wasn’t disappointed when they did.

Except now, when he was pretty sure he was going to get the chair. Or guillotine. Or…something. Did they still do that? Surely they’d interrogate him first.

Maybe his luck was why Percy awoke with a queasy feeling that morning despite the planned field trip. As a rule, field trips were great. They were a chance to get out of a classroom and see stuff, a balm to his ADHD—which screamed and frothed at the mouth from 7am to 3pm on a regular school day.

But he let his guard down. He ignored the feeling, and when the morning was uneventful, he forgot all about the vague notion of impending doom that churned in his gut.

And look where that got him.

In his defense, the facility’s cafeteria had hotdogs for lunch, and he loved a good hotdog. It distracted him. Not that the hotdogs were good; they actually kind of sucked, and that was the distracting part, spending most of the lunch break lamenting to Grover how disappointing the half-cold ‘dog was, as his vegetarian friend rolled his eyes—

Augh. Focus!

Percy’s nervous energy began to pulse off of his body in waves; emphasis on the “nervous” part. He paced. He wrung his hands. He tried the handle once, twice, fourteen more times, and he ran his fingers through his dark wavy hair so repeatedly that he worried his mom’s constant teasing about him pulling all of it out with his fidgeting would come to pass.

If he was going to jail, he wasn’t gonna go to jail bald.

New plan.

Percy slumped to a crouch, tugging out his phone—maybe if he could text Grover, tell him what happened—

No bars. No service. Not even a “guest wifi.”

New-new plan.

Percy stood, taking stock of the massive room; it was the size of their high school's gym, twice as tall, and so full of stuff that there had to be something useful here, right?

And there probably was, but as he scanned the cold, sterile environment, he found nothing was familiar enough for him to determine its “usefulness.”

His eyes landed on a platform in the center of the space with a giant glass tube atop; there was a chair within that looked like a torture device, no matter what the tour guide had said about it being for observing the nervous system. Percy wasn’t big on murder-chairs-in-disguise, so that was decidedly something to steer clear of.

Stainless steel tables were everywhere, piled with…stuff. Mechanical, electrical, chemical, some notes. Percy was at a loss, wandering between them and desperately looking for something he recognized.

A laptop. He knew what laptops were—he nearly missed the one balanced at the edge of one of the tables, and it was a joy to interrupt the screensaver’s dancing lights. It was wishful thinking, a one-in-a-million shot, but maybe there was a door code, or an override, or—

Password. Of course it needed a password.

…Okay, he could hack it, right?

Nevermind the fact that Percy had never hacked anything, ever, in his life, and did not know where to start. How hard could it be?

It turned out, not hard at all, considering the sticky note attached to the keyboard that read;

user: drathorn
pass: titan

No uppercase, no special characters, not even a measly numerical digit…which was the least of this top-secret lab’s issues if the password was written out right there, in the open, atop of the computer itself.

But Percy wasn’t complaining, and he logged in as fast as his fingers could move, bouncing on his heels, the jitters of anxiety, adrenaline, and plain old adhd making it hard to stand still. It took him three tries to correctly type it in.

The desktop was thankfully and disappointingly normal. He was kind of hoping for the Matrix, black screens and green text, but obviously he wouldn’t have been able to do much if it was, so…wins and losses. 

“Okay. Okay okay okay, let’s see what we got…” He wasn’t sure what to look for; there was nothing straightforwardly named “door control overrides” or similar. It was doubtful those would be on a random work laptop anyway, but Percy clicked through folders and documents, muttering to himself as the titles grew more and more confusing—not to mention his dyslexia worsening with his stress. The words were as slippery as trying to hold on to a live fish slick with grease.

               MC >> Phase 3 >> Human Trials >>Proposal Rejection 2.pdf

               Chrono >> Initial Testing >>DISCONTINUED.pdf

               Project Tapiserí >> Study 4, Formula 7 >> Control >> Subjects >> Specimens >> Statistical Data >> Fatality Rates >>URGENT!.pdf

Yeah. Whole lot of nothing.

Percy huffed a breath, “Shit.”

A beat. And then another.

“…Shit.” He retracted his hands from the keyboard to pull at his hair again—baldness be damned. This was it. It was so over. Soon his face would be plastered all over the tabloids; “Highschool Senior, Mysteriously Vanished Without A Trace! Neighbors Claim To Have Seen Men In Black Leaving Home (more on page 6).” There was no way they’d let it get out that some kid ended up in here. He’d become a conspiracy theory, the topic of girls doing their makeup on TikTok while talking about unsolved mysteries or whatever.

Percy sighed and prepared to accept his fate, moving to drop his hands when a sharp sting shot through his knuckles, up his arm, seemingly right into his chest. White hot pain flashed through his body, then dissipated in the same moment. He jerked, shouting an expletive far worse than “shit” that would make his mother cringe. Something small was flung from his hand.

It took a second for his vision to clear, spots and stars dancing in front of his nose and threatening potential unconsciousness. Percy took a deep, steadying breath, cradling his hand as he blinked around to try and see what had caused the sting.

There, on the desk, skittering over papers and equipment.

He squinted.

A tiny, regular, run-of-the-mill house spider.

Except he’d never had a spider bite hurt this much before.

“Son of a bitch. ”  His breath hissed as he massaged his hand, already feeling a welt rising to the surface. And the stinging… that sharp stabbing pain didn’t seem to ebb as it should have. Instead, it felt like it was actually growing in intensity. Not nearly as bad as the initial bite, but damn unpleasant all the same. 

And suddenly the lab was hot. Impossibly hot, considering how freezing it had been seconds before. Sweat beaded on the back of Percy’s neck, and he leaned heavily against the desk. Was that spider actually venomous? Was this an allergic reaction? Did he need to go to the ER before his skin turned black and his hand fell off?

Percy was considering ditching his sweatshirt when the hiss of the door behind him sounded, and in a flash the laptop was slammed shut and he spun with a shout of “I didn’t mean it!”

The blonde man there froze, blinking in surprise (and recognition?) at the high school senior in the middle of the lab; “…Didn’t mean what?”

He was familiar. He was so familiar, but Percy couldn’t even focus on that in the moment as panic flooded his blood stream. Then came the rambling; “I swear I was just looking for the bathroom and obviously this isn’t the bathroom and the door locked and I couldn’t get out so please don’t arrest me I swear I’m not trying to sell any government secrets or whatever!”

The guy stared for a moment, his blue eyes bright with a scar streaking through one of them like some sort of action movie hero. And then he laughed, “Don’t worry, man, happens all the time. Come on.”

…Just like that?

Percy heaved a sigh of relief and sped across the lab, eager to be out of this room.

The blonde guy gestured down a hall as they exited, “Pretty sure your class is this way, I’ll walk you. Probably shouldn’t risk getting locked in somewhere else, right? This place is kind of a maze.”

“…Yeah, right.” Percy responded shakily. His body temperature continued to rise as they walked, and now his skin felt like it was on actual, literal fire.

His guide frowned at him. “You feeling okay, Percy? You’re sweating buckets.”

Indeed, he could feel a droplet carving a path down his temple, but that suddenly became far less pressing than this guy apparently knowing his name, “Uh…yes?” He side eyed him, “Sorry, do we know each other…?”

Blonde-guy laughed, “Yeah, we do.” He pointed to himself with a grin. “Luke?”

And Percy remembered.

“Oh! Yeah, yes—wow, long time no see—you work here?”

Luke chuckled, shoving his hands in his pockets, “Yup. Turns out, the salary is way better than babysitting—and I’d rather put my degree to use after all that effort to get it.”

“Cool, cool cool cool, yeah, that’s… cool.”

They walked quietly for a moment, then Luke asked, “Annabeth here?”

Percy felt his chest tighten—but that may have been from whatever terrible crime that spider bite was currently enacting upon his body. “No, uh—I mean, yes, but she’s in AP Bio, I’m just in the regular class, so…different tour group.” 

“Gotcha.” Luke scanned his badge, punched in a code, pressed his thumb to a panel, and allowed for a retinal scan so they could pass into a new hallway. “You guys still hang out?”

Oh boy. Here we go.

“Uh. Sometimes?” More like never. Which, when Percy actually let himself think about it for more than five seconds, sucked almost as much as how he felt right now with the heat and the pain and the new sensation of nausea rising in his stomach.

Luke looked surprised, “Really? You were inseparable as kids.”

“Yup.” Percy’s lack of elaboration must have been a clue that he didn’t want to talk about it, as Luke didn’t ask—but in reality, Percy was convinced if he kept talking he was going to eject his lunch, breakfast, and the previous evening’s dinner from his body.

It had been years since he’d seen his old babysitter, though Luke never really felt like a babysitter. Annabeth and Percy were preteens at the time, and in their opinion didn’t need someone to watch them, but Annabeth’s parents were always ridiculously strict. Something about “boys and girls shouldn’t be alone at home together.”

Luke was 18, in college, and the coolest person in the world to 11-year-old Percy. Maybe it was because Luke didn’t talk down to him or treat him like a little kid. Maybe it was because he showed his charges funny YouTube videos, or how he taught them moves from his Taekwondo classes.

How had Percy not recognized him? It may have been the fact that Luke’s face was older, more mature, more chiseled. His hair was a bit longer too, and eyes sharper. Could be the scar.

 Speaking of… 

“When’d you get the scar?” Percy blurted out before he could consider that this was likely a rude question, his curiosity getting the better of him, “You didn’t have that before.”

Luke laughed, scratching his head, “Was in a car accident a few years ago—looks pretty cool, right?”

Percy nodded. It was all he could manage at this point. His knees had gone wobbly, and he could feel his t-shirt drenched with sweat beneath his hoodie, clinging to his body and being generally uncomfortable. And he was dizzy. Fatigued.

He bit back a groan of pain, but it was taking every bit of strength to just stay upright and walking.

Luke shot him a concerned glance. “Sure you’re okay? You look kinda—did your class eat in our cafeteria?” At Percy’s weak nod, he sighed, “Shit, they had a food poisoning incident a couple weeks ago. I’ll have to tell them we’re still having problems.”

Food poisoning! That was it—the spider bite was just a crazy coincidence, lining up with the bland hotdog from lunch returning for vengeance.

Never mind the massive, throbbing bump that felt like it would overtake his hand at any moment.

“Ugh…” Percy rubbed his forehead, so slick with sweat his hair was beginning to drip into his eyes, “Of course.”

“I was hoping you’d grow out of your bad luck by now.” Luke chuckled sympathetically.

Percy’s return laugh sounded like the croak of a throttled chicken, “Yeah, well, I think it’s worse these days.”

They turned a corner and Percy found that somehow they’d made it back to the entry atrium, the sun beating down through a glass dome that made his vision spotty and the growing headache worse. This place really was a freaking maze.

The school groups were gathered in the center of the marble floors, their chaperones allowing for a break while they waited for their next tours to start. Students were laughing and chatting, a few Seniors who hadn’t figured out they weren’t freshmen anymore rough-housing and jabbing at each other.

Percy’s stomach flip-flopped—the sensation of which felt absolutely nightmarish in its current state—when he caught sight of familiar blonde curls and a green cardigan.

Great. Just perfect. She looked gorgeous, and she was going to see him looking like he got hit by the greasiest garbage truck in New York City.

Then it got even worse, because Annabeth turned and her face lit up, and she called “Luke!” before even noticing Percy next to him. Then their gazes locked and her smile faltered, eyes widening—and god if he could just sink through the floor directly into hell that would be great.

Luke raised a hand with a grin, a gesture that meant both “hey!” and “just a second!” and Percy The Walking Slimeball couldn’t even muster the strength to look grumpy about it.

At least Grover spotted them too, and his friend’s jaw dropped.

Well, I must really look like shit. Percy slumped over to Grover as Luke broke off to talk to the teacher, pulling her aside.

“Dude, what happened to you?!” Grover reached out to grasp his arm, and Percy realized he’d been swaying, as if about to keel over. 

He steadied himself, leaning heavily on that grip. “Hotdogs.”

Grover’s brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to likely ask what that even meant, but was interrupted by a shrill “Mister Jackson and Mister Underwood, come here please.”

They turned to see Mrs. Callahan beckoning them over, and boy did that 15 foot walk feel like 10 miles.

Luke patted his shoulder as they passed, “We’ll have to catch up later, when you're feeling better.”

Percy could only manage a nod.

“Mister Jackson, Dr. Castellan informed me of the… situation.” The elderly teacher looked him up and down and pursed her lips, “Mister Underwood, you know where Percy lives, don’t you?”

“Yes ma’am.”

Mrs. Callahan sniffed.”Obviously we can’t have him on the bus in his current condition, and we have 3 more hours scheduled. And you’re both adults now—you would still receive full credit for the day, of course—“

“Y-yeah, I can take him.” Grover shot a worried glance at Percy again.

New York was great because it had public transportation.

It also sucked because that public transportation was the subway, which Percy slowly realized he would have to traverse in his current state of “slow, painful death.”

But at least he’d get to go home.

They were dismissed, and Percy hazarded a glance behind as they made their way to the exit.

Luke was talking to Annabeth now, the two laughing and probably catching up, and Percy felt a sting that had nothing to do with the bite on his hand or the deterioration of his body.

Especially when the gray eyes of his old best friend found him again, filled with concern that honestly made Percy feel far worse than if she had ignored him.

He looked away.

And it was only when they were halfway to the subway entrance that he realized;

He never even found the damn bathroom.

🕸️🕷️🕸️

Percy’s hands were shaking so badly by the time they reached the Jackson residence, Grover had to unlock the door to the apartment for him. It hadn’t been a great trip; Percy had to book it to the public restroom before they’d even scanned their MTA apps. Things were downhill from there. 

Sally wasn’t home from work yet, which meant Percy had a few solid napping hours before her fretting would begin.

“Don't get me wrong, I looooove my mom,” he groaned as Grover helped him flop onto the sofa.

“I know, Perce.”

“But she’s gonna freak out,” he mumbled, “like, she’s not gonna leave me alone for the rest of the night, make me drink water and eat crackers…”

“Sounds awful. Chug this water.” Grover shoved a giant commemorative cup from Coney Island into his hands, and Percy frowned. When did Grover even go to the kitchen to fill it?

He must be really out of it.

It took some convincing, but Grover finally got Percy to down the entire cup, and then another half.

“What’s that?” He asked as Percy handed the cup back, refusing to drink more lest he really spew his guts.

“Huh?” Percy responded, intelligently.

“On your hand.”

Percy glanced down, expecting to see the giant, egg-sized welt that had formed earlier; red and raw and angry. But instead…

A scab. Not giant, but big enough to be noticed, and he frowned.

“Spider.” He managed, flopping back on the couch.

Grover sighed. “Come on, Perce. Let’s get you on your side so you don’t choke and die if you throw up.”

Percy continued to grumble and whine, but soon enough he was settled on his side, hoodie wrangled off of him, hugging a pillow, a wastebasket on the floor, and vaguely aware of Grover saying he had to go as he ducked out to lock up with the spare key.

And then he was out like a light.

The rustling of grocery bags and his mother’s humming was what eventually roused Percy from his slumber. The jingle of keys sounded like church bells with how they rang in his ears.

Head. Hurt.

Percy pushed himself up, mouth dry as a desert, brain throbbing out his skull, but…

Temperature? Normal.

Nausea? Gone.

Shakes and aches and pains? Nada.

“Hey, mom.” He croaked, yawning.

“Hey kiddo.” Sally smiled, but there was worry in her eyes, “Your school called, and Grover texted—you feeling okay?”

“Better.” His eyes caught on a familiar box peeking out from the groceries, and he grinned, “Waffles for dinner?”

The guess must have been spot on, because she smiled, “I thought if you were up to eating—“

“I am.” He hopped off the couch and stretched, the headache too already fading. “Need help?”

“Absolutely. Can’t get a thing done without my sous-chef,” Sally teased in response, and Percy decided that he had merely contracted a 6 hour flu and that was that.

And hey, even the weird spider bite was almost gone.

Chapter Text

His alarm clock was stuck to his hand.

…

…Why was his alarm clock stuck to his hand?

Percy glared blearily at the screaming box he had smashed into his own face. He’d slapped at it like he did every morning, but when he went to rub the sleep from his eyes, he received a face full of beeping plastic.

Because his alarm clock was stuck to his hand.

“Ow—shit—“ Percy massaged his nose with his free hand, taking stock of the situation. This was not easy at 6 in the morning, when his brain was far from functioning at full capacity. And the alarm was still blaring…

His palm missed the snooze button entirely–and now it was unreachable because his alarm clock was stuck to his hand?

He shook his arm. And then he shook it harder. Super glue? Did Grover put super glue on his alarm clock before leaving yesterday?!

Percy leapt out of bed, panicked now and whipping his hand back and forth like an unattended garden hose on full blast—

“Percy?”

He jumped, and the clock flung itself off his palm and straight out his open window.

He stared.

There was a faint crash. Then a car alarm.

A knock on his door jolted him from his bewilderment; “Sweetie, I have to head to work early today, are you up?”

“Uh… yeah.”

A pause.

“Are you still feeling sick, kiddo? I can call the school, get you the day off—“

Normally, Percy would be thrilled at the chance to stay home. But something was… weird. Really weird. Different. He could feel it in his body, even if he wasn’t sure what was strange, but he definitely wasn’t sick anymore.

And he needed to not be alone with his thoughts when he felt like he was on the brink of panicking for no reason he could comprehend.

“No, no it’s fine— uh, see you tonight?”

“Don’t forget we’re going out to dinner for Paul’s birthday.”

Oh. Yeah. That. Percy had already forgotten the plans with his mom’s boyfriend— they’d been seeing each other for almost a year. But a year felt like nothing compared to the 17 that preceded it; 17 years of just Percy and Sally against the world.

To be fair, Paul was great. He was cool, in the “awkward middle aged guy trying to connect with teenagers” sort of way. And he just so happened to be a teacher at Percy’s high school, which was probably the biggest source of any minor amount of discomfort Percy had with the guy. But overall, Paul was good to Sally and good to Percy.

He was lightyears better than Percy’s last step-dad.

So sure, he could do a birthday dinner with his mom and his English teacher, no problem. 

“Got it, I’ll be there— Nico’s, right?”

“ Nico’s —5 o’clock!” She confirmed, “Love you!”

“Love you too.” Percy responded absently as his mother’s steps moved from outside his door, having now caught sight of himself in his dresser mirror.

Uh.

Hm.

He wasn't exactly a scrawny guy; a decade of swim team had ensured a fairly toned body. At least, he was as muscular as an active 18-year-old boy could be. The body in the mirror was still lean, but it was one that belonged to a…well, not the average high school senior .

Not that he was complaining. His body was more defined, a little broader, bigger, and the developments subtle—Percy’s usual hoodies would probably hide any difference, and it wasn’t like anyone other than himself was familiar enough with his body to notice a change.

Was it even a change? Was he just over thinking things, and he’d been building more muscle the past few weeks without realizing? 

Percy huffed his hair out of his eyes, squinting at himself for a moment longer. Was his jaw more defined? Did his acne clear up overnight…?

Yelling from the street below their building jerked Percy back to the present, and when he remembered how he’d accidentally turned his clock into a missile, the car alarm still blaring, he dashed to the window and slammed it shut.

Okay.

…Okay, so what if this morning was weird? The rest of the day was going to be as normal and boring as any other, and for once, Percy was looking forward to that normalcy as he began to dig for clean clothes.

🕸️🕷️🕸️

People tend to think that jocks are popular and nerds are not; that’s simply not true. The fact of the matter is, it doesn’t matter how good at a sport you are, or if you like Star Wars; if the general population deems you a weirdo, then that’s that. If you’re charming and conventionally attractive, you’re cool.

Percy never felt particularly charming. And if he was attractive (he wasn’t really sure how others saw him, if he was being honest) then it wasn’t enough to make up for the fact he’d been kicked out of almost every school he’d attended until freshman year, nor did it balance out his attitude.

It wasn’t like he picked fights on purpose. If you asked Percy, he’d tell you he was an impulsive asshole who made things worse every time he opened his mouth, that he got into scrapes because he was truly the bad kid everyone saw him as.

But when a teacher was a dick to some poor student who was clearly struggling to understand a lesson, Percy couldn’t shut up. When a jerky Senior made a snide comment about a Freshman girl, Percy especially couldn’t shut up.

Like the misunderstanding of school popularity and cliques, bullying was completely different from what the media portrayed—sometimes people were cartoonishly awful, or violent, but most of the time?

Most of the time it was far more subtle, and therefore far more insidious. 

So Percy put his earbuds in, flipped his hood up, and hoped no one would notice him as he trudged in the drizzly weather through the entry-gates of Goode High School.

Grover was in their usual spot, sitting on the steps of a side entrance that no one used because of some ridiculous rumor that a kid tripped on them and died in the 1980s. He spotted Percy and pulled himself to his feet with the help of his crutches; he didn’t always use them, but likely the effort of getting Percy home the day before had taken a toll. Guilt stabbed through Percy’s core.

“Hey—uh, you feeling better?”

Percy shrugged, “Would I be here if I didn’t?”

“Guess not.” Grover laughed, running a hand through his ruffled hair, “Man, you really looked like shit yesterday. It freaked me out.”

“I felt like I was dying, so I don’t blame you.” They made their way up the steps and slipped through the door.

The halls were packed with students. It was a couple weeks into the school year, and events had begun to ramp up. After school clubs were starting, the homecoming committee was getting a jump on polling for the dance theme, and no one was so burnt out on classes to play hooky regularly yet.

Percy hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. He just had to get through the day.

“Wanna hang out and play SuperSmashBros tonight?” Grover asked.

“Nah, going out with mom and Paul to Nico’s .” They snaked through the crowd, Percy in front to clear the way for his friend. “I can see if you can come, if you want?”

Grover snorted, “Last time I went there and asked if they had vegan pizza, they looked at me like I was insane.”

“Fair enough.” Percy leaned against the lockers as Grover spun the combo to his own. Then he remembered. “Hey, did you put glue on my alarm clock yesterday.”

Grover paused, brow furrowing in bewilderment, “What?” 

That would be a no. “Never mind, I’m just…I must still be tired.” Percy pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut, “It’s been a weird-ass morning.”

“…Sure.” Grover popped his locker open. “See you at lunch?”

“Yep.” Percy slumped past his friend towards Cooking 101.

It was an easy A, and Percy really needed to finish at least one or two classes with over a B this year. His grades had improved dramatically since the school finally gave him accommodations for his ADHD and Dyslexia, but he had a lot of ground to make up.

He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to go to college, but hey, might as well not lock himself out of that option entirely.

Even better, there was an odd number of students in the class, so he had a station all to himself; no partnering up, or having to work with some random person who could only make Mac and Cheese.

Sally Jackson taught her son well; Percy was a great cook. Cooking was one of the few things he could reluctantly accept that he was pretty good at, even if compliments on the skill still made him squirm—in his opinion, his pie dough was never flaky enough, the garlic not finely chopped enough, burgers not juicy enough…But he knew he was better than most high school kids.

Cooking and swimming. That was pretty much the full list of ‘Things Percy Jackson Is Actually Good At.’

He hopped onto his bench moments before the bell rang, tugging out one of his AirPods while the other continued to play quietly in his ear.

“Hood down, Mister Jackson!” Mx. Harp called out, tapping their temple.

Percy obliged, even if it was stupid. He could learn just as well with or without his head covered.

Mx. Harp took their place at the front of the room, the digital board showing photos of various dishes; burritos, tacos, empanadas…“Right, so, today we’ll be—“

The door at the back of the class bounced open, the sound of feet skidding to a stop causing heads to turn. Percy didn’t care to pay attention to whoever rushed in until he heard a voice say “Sorry, Mx. Harp, I’m here with the transfer form!”

Annabeth was pink in the face and panting slightly, holding out a piece of paper as Mx. Harp beckoned her to the front of the room, “Great, I’ll get you added to the roster—station H has a free seat, so your partner will be Mister Jackson.”

Shit.

Their eyes locked. Percy tried to keep his face neutral, but he had no clue how successful he was. Annabeth’s own flustered features almost immediately rearranged themselves into a blank slate, making her way to the back of the class to slide onto the stool next to him.

Percy tried not to notice every little thing about her. Her hair was longer than it had been at the end of last spring, her bangs grown out and the length reaching below her shoulder blades. She’d stopped straightening it, the curls soft if a little frizzy from the rain. Dark jeans. Boots. A fitted, plain black t-shirt. A brown jacket. How did she make the most basic clothes look worth a million dollars? Hell, how did she get him to notice things like outfits?

He cleared his throat, forcing himself not to look at her, think about her, nor feel her arm less than 2 feet from his own. This was probably the closest they’d been in 3 years.

Mx. Harp continued to explain how next week they would be focusing on Latin American cuisine, and today was meant for practicing knife skills and chopping veggies to make salsa.

Recipe packets were passed around, the class dismissed to gather ingredients, and Percy heard Annabeth’s stool squeak on the floor as she turned to him; “You’re okay, right?”

The question was so surprising that he couldn’t help but forget his avoidance and look at her, “…Huh?”

Annabeth’s eyebrow raised, “Yesterday? At the lab— you looked terrible.”

“Gee, thanks.” Percy tugged his remaining AirPod from his ear, music suddenly little comfort, “If you're worried I might get you sick, don’t. I feel fine now.”

She pursed her lips, “That’s not what I meant.”

Percy stood to head to the fridges that lined the right wall, not caring if Annabeth followed or not, “Then what do you mean?”

She was hot on his heels and her lowered voice made his skin prickle uncomfortably. His head tingled with the sensation of her presence behind him. “I mean that I was worried about you.”

Percy tried not to snort in response, but he couldn’t stifle his derision. “That’s a first.”

“Excuse me?” And there was the voice he recognized as the one usually directed at him, however rare their interactions were—annoyed and cold.

“Okay, you’re right, that wasn’t fair;” Percy started piling tomatoes, peppers, whatever that was within arm’s reach that they’d need, “that’s a first since middle school. ”

Annabeth rolled her eyes, moving beside him to help. “Does it take a lot of effort to be an ass, or does it come naturally to you?” 

He should stop. He should really, really stop, because he was being dick, and he knew it, and the more bitter he was the more she would hate him.

But hatred was better than the alternative, which was her not acknowledging him at all.

“When it comes to you? I don’t even have to try.” 

She stomped back to their counter, and he didn’t even have to glance back to know exactly what expression was on her face, how furious he was making her.

Goddammit.

It wasn’t always this bad.

Sure they were childhood best friends, and yeah, they drifted apart, but at first it was different.

Freshman year had been hell for Annabeth. Percy knew it was—she’d crammed her schedule with AP and Honors classes to the point that the school counselors had to force her to leave room for a lunch period. Then she ran for student government and was elected to class representative in a landslide, which added even more to her plate.

That wasn’t even considering the shit that had been going on in her life outside of school, the family drama, the tears, the strain.

And suddenly, there was no room for Percy.

A guy can only be canceled on so many times, see so many photos on Instagram of his supposed best friend at parties and with other people on nights when they’d already had plans before giving up.

So he stopped reaching out. He rarely responded to texts, because the conversations never went anywhere anyway. And yeah, he’d give a(n unenthusiastic) wave back in the halls when she said ‘hi,’ but that was about it.

And for two and a half years, they were simply people who used to be close, and now skirted around each other in the halls and made polite, awkward conversation if fate ever randomly forced them into close proximity.

And then mid Junior year, something snapped.

Annabeth had reached out. She said she missed him. And all Percy could think was “Then why the hell didn’t you try harder earlier?!”

So they fought, and he said so much that he regretted in retrospect, and she called him all sorts of names that he probably deserved, and that was that. They ignored each other completely. Except now they couldn’t.

He sighed and dropped the produce on the cutting board, Annabeth pointedly looking in the opposite direction with a different expression than he thought he would see.

It was angry, of course; but her eyes were too bright, too shiny, and her arms were crossed across her chest in a way that felt less stern and more protective, and there was that divot on her chin that always appeared when she was about to…

“Ah shit.” Percy groaned and buried his face in his hands, because he was the biggest asshole in the world and Annabeth was on the verge of tears— tears that he caused. She almost never cried.

So he decided to do something impulsive.

He made to move around the counter, but put a bit too much pressure on the cutting board as his hand landed on it, because it slid to the side fast, too fast, and—

Percy lost his balance and slammed onto the floor, tomatoes pelting him from above.

Annabeth yelped, and half the class stopped talking, glancing over and exchanging looks that said “what a weirdo.”

Percy groaned and didn’t even bother trying to stand as Annabeth’s face peared over the counter. Her eyes were wide with concern that he definitely wasn’t worthy of on her face. He cleared his throat, allowing an ashamed half-smile that probably came across more unhinged than he meant it to. “...Well I guess the universe agrees with you.” At Annabeth’s clear confusion, Percy gestured at his prone-self, a punishment of karma; “I’m being an ass.” 

She blinked at him, as if not comprehending his words. Then her expression turned neutral. “Well, yeah. Because you are.” Then she surprised Percy, coming around to help him up.

Percy sighed as he stood, looking down at his tomato-slimed hoodie. Better than the sweat-slime from the day before—and at least Annabeth didn’t look like she was going to cry anymore. So mission accomplished; but it wasn’t the universe that agreed with Annabeth. It was the dork who made himself slip just to distract her long enough that she’d forget her stinging eyes and tight throat. 

…But he’d still acted in a way that his mother would absolutely be disappointed by—that he was pissed at himself for—and Annabeth deserved better than that, regardless of his own stupid issues, regardless of how she made him feel . “God, okay—shit. Fuck .”

“Language, Mister Jackson.” Mx. Harp scolded as they passed their station, “And clean up that mess before someone else falls.”

He grabbed the paper towels from under the counter with a sigh, looking back to Annabeth, “Sorry.”

Her eyebrows raised, watching as he stooped to wipe the floor. “Is that it?”

No.

Percy grabbed the errant cutting board and stood, “I don’t…I’m not…I’m bad. At words.”

“I remember.”

“And it’s just…“ he set the board on the counter, “I’m…okay, look, we’re going to be partners in this class until the end of the semester, and you were worried about me and I should have just said ‘thank you for caring’ but I didn’t, and I don’t have an excuse other than I’m—“ Hurt. Heartbroken. Bitter. Angry. “…I’m a mess, and it had nothing to do with you, and I took it out on you anyway, and I’m sorry.”

Annabeth studied him for a moment. If there was surprise at his apology, it didn’t show. Finally she nodded, “Okay.”

“…Okay?”

“Yeah.” It wasn’t forgiveness, but it wasn’t a ‘screw you’ either. She reached for the cutting board, “I’ll go wash this, you can get new ingredients.

And then she tugged.

And Percy didn’t release the board.

Except he was trying to let go. Really, he was—now desperately. But it was no use; like the alarm clock, it was stuck in his grip.

In the midst of his absolute emotional spiral, he’d forgotten about that morning, and now the same sensation was in his hand again, and she was pulling on it and it wasn’t going to budge and oh god—

Percy jerked back with a shout, the plastic board yanked out of Annabeth’s grasp. She blinked at him, other classmates glancing over with frowns again, and he winced, turning the yell into a strained laugh. He must look like a lunatic.

“No, I got it! You…you sit, and you uh…relax. Just—Chill. Chill out.” And then he beelined to the sink, his ears surely turning bright red and his heart beating out of his chest because he was probably actually going insane.

So it was decidedly not super glue causing this.

He ran the board under warm water, sticking his hand in and hoping whatever was going on would be loosened by moisture.

It wasn’t.

Okay. That’s fine. He just wouldn’t put it down.

So he shook off the excess water, snagged new ingredients, and when he came back to the counter he casually let his hand rest on its surface; “I’ll chop.”

Annabeth stared at him. “Aren’t we both supposed to practice?”

“Sure, but last I checked, you couldn't even tell the difference between an onion and a shallot.”

Annabeth turned pink, tucking blonde curls behind her ears with an indignant glare, “They look alike! And I’ve learned since then.”

“Oh have you?” Percy gave her a skeptical glance and fought a teasing smile from his lips; probably inappropriate to be so casual after his earlier, less lighthearted quips.

“I have!” She insisted, “I can make mac and cheese, and pancakes, and quesadillas—“

“And do you make quesadillas in the microwave or on the stove?” The way she huffed in response to the question brought a smirk to Percy’s lips, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“They’re better that way.” Annabeth leaned on the counter, watching Percy dice faster than anyone else in the class could hope to, even with only one free hand—which Annabeth certainly noticed, her frown deepening, “Aren’t you supposed to hold it while you chop?”

“Hmm?” Percy pretended not to understand as his tomato keeled over and he flipped it back with his knife. Although even he was shocked at the fact he could dice one-handed at all.

“…Nevermind.” 

Percy had no hope of assembling the salsa like this, so once all the ingredients were prepared he started directing Annabeth, leaning both hands on the cutting board and trying to seem nonchalant.

They finished just in time for Mx. Harp to stop by for the taste test.

“Mm…good flavor, a little spicier than the recipe called for, but extra marks for consistent dicing.” They jotted something on their clipboard and the bell rang to signal the passing period and Percy went to reach for his things and—

Both hands were stuck. He tried again to lift them from the cutting board; definitely stuck.

Cool.

Great.

Awesome.

Percy glanced down at his backpack on the floor. Did he really need stuff like books and pencils and paper for English class anyway?

And with that thought, he spun on his heel and began to speed walk for the exit, dirty cutting board in tow.

“Mister Jackson?” Mx. Harp called, their brow furrowed.

“I need it!” Percy shouted back, begging, hoping there would be no further questions as he sped down the hall and left his bag behind, a sacrifice to the gods of highschool humiliation to hope and pray and plead that no one followed him.

“Percy!” A voice froze him midstep, and Percy squeezed his eyes shut.

The gods clearly hated him.

Keep walking keep walking you don’t need to stop for her move your stupid feet and haul ass as far as possible from here—

“...Percy?” Annabeth asked again from behind him, students navigating around them. A few shot Percy funny looks, likely due to the cutting board in his hands dripping with tomato juice.

He took a breath, then forced his mouth into a smile as he turned, “Hi, yeah, hey, uh…hey! What’s up?”

Annabeth blinked at him, the ratty blue backpack Percy called his own hanging from her hand, “You…you forgot this?” Her voice went high at the end, a statement turned to a question in her confusion. Percy loved it when she did that—he used to love it when she did that.

He stared at the backpack extended to him. And then he held the dripping, messy cutting board out.

Annabeth’s brow furrowed, but she must have accepted that Percy was just a weirdo because she shrugged and then placed the backpack on top.

What’s one more stain to mark his day?

“Cool, great, thanks, gotta go—“

“Don’t you need to return that?” Annabeth nodded to the board.

Percy swallowed hard; “Probably—but like, mine at home is busted, freak slicing accident—you know how it is.”

“…Sure.”

They stood in a bubble of awkward silence, the throngs of chattering students fading into nothing as Percy held his breath. He hadn’t been so physically close to Annabeth years, and even during class just now, he avoided focusing on her directly like this.

She had more freckles than she used to.

Finally, Annabeth simply turned and walked away—no goodbye, which Percy couldn’t blame her for.

He buried his face into his backpack with a groan.

He should have stayed home today.

And the board was still stuck to his hands.

🕸️🕷️🕸️

The stupid cutting board didn’t detach itself until Percy had skipped History and half of English. He’d found a spot behind the school and spent far too much time waving his arms around like a lunatic, praying no one would spot him.

A rumor that he’d lost his grip on reality was the last thing he needed.

Finally, the board spun towards the parking lot like a frisbee and Percy didn’t even look back as he tugged on his backpack and sprinted to class.

He skidded to a stop and slipped in as quietly as possible. Paul glanced up from where he was grading papers, the students quiet as they filled out a worksheet. He smiled, which was way better than how most teachers would react to Percy being late.

Percy speed walked to Paul’s desk, silently accepting the paper that was offered to him, then hurried to his own seat to get started.

Not that he could focus.

That didn’t matter either way, seeing as the questions were all about the assigned reading from the night before, which he didn’t even do due to being unconscious.

…What was happening to him?

First he was sick. Then he was fine—well, he felt fine.

But things sticking to his hands like he was the strongest magnet in the world? 

Probably not-fine.

It was a relief when the bell rang again and his pencil didn’t decide it was going to be a permanent fixture on his body. All Percy wanted to do was run from the room and dunk his head under a running faucet, but…

Well, he should probably at least say “hi.”

He slumped up to the desk, handing in his half-filled paper, “Uh, hey, Paul—I mean, Mr. Blofis.” School. Respect. Paul was his teacher here. Right.

“Hey there! Feeling better after yesterday? Guessing your tardiness today is—?”

Percy leapt on the excuse, “Yes! Yeah, uh, stomach still not one-hundred…but yeah, better.” He shifted, “So um…happy birthday.”

Paul’s grin broadened, “Thanks bud. Ready for pizza tonight?”

“Always.” He couldn’t help but return that smile, “You’re gonna love the present mom got you.”

“Oh yeah?” Paul leaned on conspiratorially, “Give me a hint?”

Percy learned last Christmas that Paul was the worst at presents; couldn’t keep them a secret for the life of him. And if Sally wasn’t the absolute best at hiding gifts, Percy was pretty sure the guy would be shaking boxes and peeling back wrapping paper to peek. “Nope.”

“Ah, well, worth a shot.” He glanced at Percy’s worksheet with the few (definitely wrong) answers, then crumpled it and tossed it in the wastebasket, holding out a fresh one, “Finish it at home. Figured you weren’t up to the reading last night.”

Percy blinked, “Oh—um, I don’t want special treatment—“

“You have accommodations, Percy. You always get extra time for assignments as needed.” He held the paper out even more insistently, “Besides, have you ever known me to be a hard ass to any of my students?”

It was true; Paul was always checking in with kids, giving extensions, paying attention to changes in mood or dips in grades, always trying to connect and understand. Percy finally accepted the fresh sheet, shoving it in his backpack, “You’re a teacher who says stuff like ‘hard ass’ in front of us, so…no.”

Paul laughed, “Exactly.” He returned to his work as Percy backed to the door. “See ya tonight, bud.”

“Yup.”

Percy just had to get through the rest of today. Then he could sleep, and tomorrow would be normal.

Tomorrow had to be normal.

🕸️🕷️🕸️

It was lunchtime when Percy came to terms with the fact that things were never going to be normal again.

A few more things got stuck to him throughout the day. Nothing as big as a clock or a cutting board, but still inconvenient; pens, an AirPod, even toilet paper at one point—at least that one he was able to rip off before anyone could notice.

He all but collapsed at the usual lunch table next to Grover, who had the decency to look sympathetic. “You good?”

 Percy only groaned in response.

“Sounds about right.” His friend eyed him, squinting, “Are you on Accutane?”

“Huh?” Percy blinked at him.

Grover gestured vaguely to Percy’s face, “Your acne, it's like…completely gone.”

Oh, that. “I don’t know man, maybe I’m just done with puberty or something.” He pulled his lunchtray towards him and began to dig in, but Grover’s furrowed brow had him pause. “What?”

“That’s…don’t you think that’s a lot of food, Perce?”

Percy looked down. Okay, maybe it was a little more than he usually ate, but it wasn't that much. “I’m hungry?”

“You have like three chicken sandwiches dude.” Grover scanned the pile, “Two fruit cups, three of those hummus snack packs, a protein bar, fruit snacks, four slices of pizza, aaaaaand…” he reached out and lifted a pizza slice, brow furrowing, “two uncooked ramen cups.”

“They’re for if I get hungry later!” Percy huffed defensively, “I didn’t have breakfast, okay?”

“Right…” Grover scratched his chin, the patchy goatee of a teenage boy there looking like it had filled in recently. “Maybe a late growth spurt is coming up?”

“God, I hope not.” Percy was already one of the taller guys at school, which sucked when he just wanted to go unnoticed. Still, his body felt famished, like he was burning calories way faster than a person should be able to—and with how his body had shifted seemingly overnight, maybe that made sense. It was trying to compensate. Or something. He wasn’t a doctor.

They chatted idly, Percy somehow scarfing down every last bit of food on his tray. He ignored Grover’s aghast expression when he stood to heat up one of the ramen cups, and it was on the walk back from the microwave that the world fell into complete absurdity.

He was focused on not spilling burning hot water on his hands when his skin prickled. Then his head tingled. It was the same feeling as when Annabeth had walked behind him earlier, except she wasn’t here and he—

Percy swung his body to the side as a textbook whizzed past his ear.

“ Jackson! ”

Okay, so that thing earlier about real bullies not being like the ones in movies?

Matt Sloan was the exception.

Percy didn’t even try to hide his annoyance as he turned to face the guy stalking up to him with murder in his eyes.

Matt had been a scrawny kid in middle school, short, weak, and great at manipulating bigger kids to do his dirty work. Then he hit puberty, joined the highschool wrestling team, and became big enough to do his own dirty work. He was broad, much broader than Percy, though he was still shorter; it was only by a few inches these days, but there was satisfaction in knowing those inches infuriated Matt to no end.

“What?” Percy rubbed between his eyes with his free hand, already feeling a headache. At least he miraculously hadn’t spilled his ramen.

“You ratted me out!”

“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about, dude.” Except Percy knew exactly what he was talking about.

Matt jabbed a finger into Percy’s chest, clearly trying to appear menacing. He kinda just looked like a respiratorily-challenged bulldog. “I know it was you, Jackson. I saw you!”

Percy raised a brow—this claim was impressive, considering he had ‘ratted’ Matt out via anonymous email. “Saw me do what?”

“Slinking in the bushes like a freaking creep.” Matt sneered.

Ah. That.

Percy took a shortcut to school a few days before, cutting through an alley and hopping the fence—the bushes in question lined the school grounds, and what he saw on that shortcut…

He couldn’t care less if other people got high or drank or partied. That was none of his business. And normally he would never be a narc, but…the opportunity to get Sloan in trouble was something truly special. A moment Percy would take out to dinner and a movie if he could. Maybe hold hands. Walk it to the door for a goodnight kiss. Get to second base, if he was lucky.

So he sent a fun little anonymous email to the school counselor's office.

Sure, it was a bastard move, but hey, Percy was a literal bastard—so maybe he was entitled to act like one sometimes.

He looked Matt up and down, trying to be the picture of indifference, “Doesn’t sound like something I’d do.” He brushed past him.

And there was that shiver through his brain again.

He knew the fist was there before he saw it, and his body reacted on instinct; he dodged sideways again, the steaming water of his ramen swirling dangerously.

“They’re gonna make me do a drug test! ” Matt swung again, which Percy also easily avoided.

A positive development, as he usually would have taken a hit to the face by now. “And that's my problem, how?”

Another swing. Another dodge. “I swear to God Jackson, if I get kicked off the team because of you—!”

“You’ll what? Punch the air?” He glanced pointedly at the fist that had just missed him again , a smirk forming on his lips.

Matt growled, looking as if he were about to tackle Percy—wrestling was his sport of choice, after all.

When he lunged forward, Percy was ready, side stepping far faster than he thought he was capable of and sticking out his leg, tripping Matt into a table. Well, more like sent him crashing into a table.

Then his brain practically buzzed.

He bent back at the waist, narrowly dodging a swing from the side; one of Matt’s goons.

There were gasps, and Percy realized their scuffle was garnering more and more attention. He also realized he was nearly upside down with how far he’d bent—further than his flexibility would normally allow, and further than the point where he should have lost his balance.

Yet another weird thing to hyperventilate about later; his nerves were tingling like crazy, and he leapt backward, feet over head to dodge a kick aimed at his legs.

He landed the flip, and frowned.

That shouldn’t have been physically possible. Not even for most trained gymnasts.

Matt was back on his feet, now recovered from his unplanned table-hug and clearly the would-be kicker. He and his friend glanced at each other.

Percy felt about as bewildered as they looked, but he refused to show it on his face. When they turned back to him, he shrugged, “Parkour.”

The two surged forward, and Percy acted on instinct, dancing around to avoid punches, kicks, everything they threw at him. Normally, Matt wouldn’t be so bold as to try and enact violence right in the open, but clearly Percy had pissed him off beyond rational thought.

And God, Percy couldn’t resist pushing it further.

“How do you win all those wrestling matches?” He asked, “Can you even grapple properly, or do you run right past them like this? Seems a weird strategy.”

Matt grunted in frustration as Percy jumped over another kick.

“Like, seriously, you must be super talented if you can’t even grab a person who’s right in front of you.” He ducked. “Do you think if you throw yourself at the ground you’ll miss that too?”

“Will you shut up and hold still?!”

“You sound just like my kindergarten teacher!” He felt the edge of a table hit the back of his legs and without even stopping to think about it, jumped, landing atop it nimbly.

Percy looked down at the two jerks who had paused, panting, clearly exhausted and glaring up at him. He didn’t even feel out of breath.

With a smirk, Percy raised his cup of ramen as if to toast them, only then realizing it hadn’t spilled a single drop. Impossible, but he couldn’t complain as he took a swig of the broth.

He wiped his mouth and stared down at them, “Where were we?”

“ Mister Jackson! ”

Percy winced, looking over the heads of Matt and what’s-his-face to see Mrs. Dodds standing there with her arms crossed. Mrs. Dodds was a miserable crone of a math teacher, and while Percy’s only class with her had been for a single semester freshman year, she’d had it out for him ever since.

“Uh…yeah?”

“Do you belong on top of the lunch table?”

Percy looked down, feigning surprise, “Is this a lunch table?”

Shut up shut up shut up shut up—!

Mrs. Dodds pursed her lips, “Don't give me that attitude, honey. Get down this instant! And all of you—“ she snapped at the students, “go back to your meals.”

Most of the cafeteria did as told, less interested now that the show was over. 

“It’s not his fault!” Percy was clambering down when Grover’s voice caught his attention, his friend standing nearby, eyes wide and darting between Percy, Matt, and Mrs. Dodds. “They were trying to hit him and—“

“Does Mister Jackson have any bruises?” She gestured to him, “Do you see any scrapes? Did they manage to inflict bodily harm on him?”

Grover balked, “Well I—I said they were trying and—“

“You would do well, Mister Underwood, to keep to yourself rather than defend tomfoolery, lest you be written up as well.”

Percy fought a groan. His mom was going to kill him. Again.

And it wasn’t like any of the dozens of kids who witnessed all of this were going to—

“I saw them hit him.”

He froze at that voice, not daring to turn, to do anything.

Shit.

Mrs. Dodds did not look pleased. Matt and his friend exchanged glances, frowning.

“Thank you for your input, Miss Chase, however that is no excuse for—“

“So you don’t think students should protect themselves from physical violence?” Annabeth was student body President, about to be valedictorian, and downright terrifying. Even to some adults. That, and her reputation among faculty and students alike was spotless. She was someone to take seriously; her word meant something. And she was defending Percy. “Should he have let them continue to hurt him? Is running away not the best scenario, or would you have preferred he fight back and the situation turn into a brawl?” Percy could see blonde hair being tossed out of the corner of his eye, “Because if so, I think I would like to visit the front office with you, so they can have an eyewitness account of the situation— and we can clarify what us students should do when we’re assaulted.”

Mrs. Dodds closed her eyes, her expression screaming ‘Lord give me strength,’ as if Annabeth had often been a source of annoyance. Finally, she spoke, “Mister Jackson, did these two young men hit you?”

Percy jumped, yanked from his stupor. He’d been entirely focused on the sound of Annabeth’s voice, in awe of how calm she was, how clear-headed she sounded as she confronted a teacher. “Huh? Oh—yeah, ohhhh yeah, loads of times. They got me in the jaw, the chest, here—“ he began pointing and Mrs. Dodds cut him off with a look as Matt made a noise somewhere between protest and disbelief.

It was hard not to laugh at the situation the guy was in—did he admit that he hadn’t been able to land a single blow? Or did he accept the lie, allow a detention to protect his pride?

If Percy were a different person, with a different life, without the mistakes in their friendship for the last three years, he would have kissed Annabeth full on the mouth for putting Matt in this situation.

And then he quickly shoved the idea of kissing Annabeth Chase from his mind, because dear God, that could only lead to a miserable rest of his day. 

Mrs. Dodds huffed, pinching her nose before beckoning to the boys, “Mister Sloan, Mister Bob, come with me.”

They glowered at Percy as they followed Mrs. Dodds out of the lunchroom.

Percy’s laugh was hoarse, “ Bob?!” 

Grover looked exasperated despite his relief, “Yes, his name is Joe Bob, and you react this way every time I remind you of that fact.

Percy managed another shaky laugh. Then the past 2 minutes caught up with him. What—?

“…was that?!” Grover voiced what Percy had been thinking, “That was—how did you—?“ Percy waved him off. After all that, he had to act casual, cool, calm. Freaking out now would instantly ruin any sort of rep he just gained. He lifted his ramen to his lips as he turned—only to nearly walk directly into Annabeth, her arms crossed, looking up at him with sharp, scrutinizing eyes.

He sputtered, almost choking on the broth that now dribbled from his mouth and sloshed out of the cup, all down the front of his already stained hoodie.

Great. Super smooth, Percy! You can keep it from spilling throughout a literal fight, yet as soon as you see this girl you fall apart. Fantastic. 

“Hi—hey, wow, thanks, uh, you…you didn’t have to…hi.”

Annabeth tilted her chin up, a head shorter than him. Yet she felt like that tallest person in the room with that expression and her stance. “Hi. You owe me.”

Percy nodded vigorously. “Absolutely.” He paused, trying to pull himself together, trying to revert to his stoic, grumpy, quiet self. It wasn’t working.

It was a difficult mask to put back on once it broke.

“Hi Annabeth.” Grover leaned out from behind Percy to wave.

“Hey Grover.” She smiled, before fixing the steelier stare she seemed to reserve for Percy back towards him. “How did you do that?”

Percy cleared his throat, panic seizing him because holy shit how did he do that and how will he explain it to Grover and Annabeth and they’re still looking at him and they’re expecting an answer and Annabeth expects an answer and is staring at him with so much intensity that he—

He couldn’t handle it.

He knocked back whatever broth was left, the noodles he had so been looking forward to wholly untouched, then tossed the styrofoam cup back into the trash, “Do what?”

Annabeth raised a brow, and she and Grover glanced at each other.

And Percy realized why; he had tossed the cup into the trash. Behind him. Without looking back. Without seeing it there. And it went right in.

…how did he even know it went right in?!

His hands were shaking harder. He felt sweat bead on his brow, his nerves suddenly through the roof, threatening to burst from him. He cleared his throat, “I uh… parkour?” He began to back away. “Hey, look, thanks guys, for backing me up, I—“ Percy ran one of those clammy, shaky hands through his hair, knowing it now stuck out crazily from his head Albert-Einstein-style. He couldn’t care, couldn’t pause his racing thoughts enough to bother with something as silly as that, “I gotta go.”

And then he turned, yanked his backpack off the lunch table, and booked it out of the cafeteria.

🕸️🕷️🕸️

Percy also booked it out of the school, off campus, into the city, running and running until his lungs finally, finally burned and god, that panicked him too; that it took so long for his breath to grow shallow and his legs to ache, and his hands shook harder and his heartbeat quickened because what the hell was happening to him?!

He ducked into an alley—New Yorkers wouldn’t question a crazy kid having a mental breakdown in the middle of the sidewalk, but it was preferable that he not be the subject of family dinners everywhere tonight; “Hey honey, I’m home! Let me tell you about this raving loon I saw off of 14th…!”

No thanks.

He slumped against the wall, the bricks uneven and digging into his shoulder. His backpack felt impossibly light, something he hadn’t noticed earlier, but now? When it should have his back aching from the physical exertion it took to run all the way here?

Percy sucked in a breath. And then another. He raised his palm, staring at it, trying to see anything that could indicate a change…

Nothing.

He flipped it over, and still nothing—

Except the scar.

That little scar where the spider bit him not even 24 hours before. It was slightly discolored and raised, but easy to miss if one didn’t know it was there.

Percy looked up at the wall he leaned on, how it stretched up a few stories…

…just a few…

There was no way. It would be crazy— he was crazy for even considering—

But he pushed away from the bricks, taking a few steps back and craning his neck, before leveling his gaze at the wall before him.

Insane.

And stupid.

And delusional.

With a breath, he marched up to the bricks and pressed his hand to it.

And it stuck.

Holy. Shit.

Eyes widening, he pressed the other hand beside it. Same result.

Then came the right foot—yup.

Percy looked back up the wall. And then he began to climb.

He was half-worried he would be just as stuck as he had been with everything else he touched today, but he had no problems pulling his hand away to place higher up—and it got easier the higher he climbed, the sensation of sticking and unsticking already beginning to store itself in his muscle memory.

And when he was halfway up, he glanced down.

Vertigo was the expected response, some nausea, likely panic, but what slammed into him instead was utter exhilaration.

Percy had climbed most of a building with his bare hands. He barely had to try. It felt as natural as walking. It felt like his body was telling his brain “well duh we can stick to walls!” as if it were something so intrinsic to him that it was unfathomable he never tried it before.

He laughed. Loud, heartily, a whoop of triumph bursting from him as he jumped— jumped!— the rest of the way up. It was several feet! And vertical! How did he—?!

He found he didn’t care, because something crazy had somehow happened to him; something gave him powers , as ridiculous and absurd as that was.

…

He had superpowers!

Percy cleared the lip of the roof, landing light on his feet—so light!—and spun around, looking down at where he had come from, then out to the city sprawling before him.

A whole city with walls and roofs and buildings that an 18 year old guy with super powers could climb and jump all over…

He grinned.

He looked to the roof across the alley. It was a little taller than his current one. Percy took a step back. And then another. He backed up until he was almost on the opposite end, as far as he could go.

And then he ran.

And then he jumped.

🕸️🕷️🕸️

Chapter Text

No thrill ride could ever compare. 

Probably nothing could ever compare to the sensation of sprinting over rooftops, leaping between them like it was a simple game of hopscotch. That is, if hopscotch had the squares tens of feet apart, and there were likely-fatal drops between them.

The thought briefly crossed Percy’s mind; if he fell, would he survive? How high was too high for him?

He could test that later.

Now? Now he basked in the newfound freedom of near limitless movement.

No one could do what he was doing. No one could follow him, stop him, interrupt the adrenaline high that pulsed so violently through his body there was a real fear it may burst from him in an explosion of euphoria so large it would level the city.

He pushed the limits— when Percy cleared a whole block in a single jump, he almost stumbled from the delighted shock at the feat. When he misjudged a distance, the strength of his own power, and landed on the very edge of the opposite side of a building, he didn’t so much as lose his balance.

And when Percy nearly hit a bird he hadn’t seen take flight in front of him, his head—no, his whole body tingled and he twisted to spare the poor pigeon without so much as having to process the imminent collision until it had already been avoided.

After that, he began to add flourishes to the jumps; he performed flips and impossible somersaults that he could barely manage to do off a diving board before this.

It was so much like flying. It took his breath away.

Metaphorically, that is.

His literal breathing was steady, only slightly heavier and louder even after who knew how much time running. And that might have been more so due to his excitement rather than a sign of fatigue — perhaps the burning lungs from earlier had more been due to his rising panic attack, not exertion. 

Percy’s cheeks hurt from grinning, laughing ! When was the last time he actually laughed in a way that wasn’t a dry chuckle? When was the last time he had a smile that wasn’t sardonic, or faked?

He finally landed on the flat roof of a newer building, taller than the previous apartments and small businesses he’d sprinted across. It had been a risk, jumping right for the wall and hoping he’d stick so he could climb the rest of the way up rather than fall to his death— but it paid off.

The view…

Percy dropped to sit on the edge, legs dangling off the side. He’d never been this much of a daredevil— he was impulsive and absolutely did some dangerous shit sometimes, but this? It was beyond anything he’d ever dreamed.

Maybe this was a dream.

If so, he never wanted to wake from it; not when he could see the city from any angle, any viewpoint he wanted, not when he could see the sprawling green of Central Park through skyscrapers and the Empire State Building rising like a triumphant tower from epic myths barely 2 miles away. The drizzle from earlier had dissipated, making way for the beauty of the late afternoon light of a near setting sun reflected off windows, bathing the world in the warmest golds and the bluest shadows and—

Percy straightened.

Sun. Setting.

…

What time was it?!

Percy jerked his backpack from his shoulders, ripping the zipper open so frantically it broke. He paid the split teeth no mind as he dug for his phone, the phone he shoved in there out of fear of it falling out as he ran and—

5:18 PM.

5 texts. 3 missed calls.

Shit.

He was late— he’d been at this for hours! Actual, literal hours of athletic feats that should have exhausted even the best Olympic competitors long ago.

He wasn’t even sleepy!

And he was late.

Percy jumped to his feet, his damaged backpack sending a few loose papers fluttering off the side of the building, but it didn’t matter because he was late again and his mom was gonna be pissed.

At least he had a faster way to get to dinner than the subway, which was a small relief as he tapped his mom’s contact photo, pressed his phone to his ear, and leapt into thin air.

🕸️🕷️🕸️

Percy eventually had to clamber down a fire escape and pray no one spotted him as he neared the restaurant. He wasn’t stupid; he didn’t know what he was gonna do with his newfound “talents,” but he wasn’t eager to wind up in a lab somewhere, so as his euphoria was stifled by unpunctual panic and reality setting in, he made a point to stick to less-busy streets as he jumped towards the restaurant (truly a Herculean effort for the ever-bustling New York City).

Another couple blocks, and Nico’s Pizzeria and Pasta, home of the absolute best Italian food in New York, loomed.

A deep breath. A hand through his wind-blown hair.

Percy ducked inside.

Nico’s wasn’t exactly fancy— it was a pizzeria nestled between a laundromat and a loan agency on a side street in New York — but the owners, the DiAngelo’s, certainly made it classy . It wasn’t out of place to see a party dressed in formal wear eating next to a family in t-shirts and jeans. 

The decor was a clutter of items and framed pictures that scratched the ADHD itch in Percy’s brain with so much to look at and examine and wonder about: there were clusters of black and white photos of the DiAngelo ancestors in Italy and migrant great-grandparents who had arrived through Ellis Island. Giant imitation cheese wheels, old pasta presses, and wooden looms were suspended near the ceiling and on shelves that lined the upper walls where no one could reach without a stool. All sorts of tools and relics from the history of the family and their businesses covered every inch of space available.

The tables had cloth draped atop, the chairs were comfier than the standard fair, and the lighting was warm and welcoming while classic, crooning Italian music played softly.

The dark haired woman at the hostess podium glanced up with her chocolate brown eyes and brightened. “Perseus!” She lilted in her heavy accent— Maria had told him before that she had only come to America 20 years ago, when she met Mr. Di Angelo during one of his business trips to Sicily. “Welcome! You are taller!”

Percy blushed slightly— despite Mrs. DiAngelo being a whole adult with kids and only a little younger than Sally, she was ridiculously pretty. She looked like an old-Hollywood movie star. It’s not like he had a crush or anything, but how could someone not get a little nervous around her?!

He smiled sheepishly, “I saw you last week, Maria, I can’t have grown all that much since then.” Though when he thought about all that happened in the last 2 days, Percy supposed he very well could be a bit taller.

“Nonsense.” She waved him to follow her to the back, “Nico is here— oh, he will be so happy to see you! Bianca is too! Maybe she is finally past the ‘hating family-time’ phase, yes?” Maria giggled to herself.

There was no room to answer as they arrived at the table and Percy had to contend with his mother’s stern stare.

Well, it was as stern as Sally Jackson could be— she had never managed to completely rid herself of the twinkle in her eyes.

That made her no less intimidating as a parental figure when Percy messed up.

“I will bring the usual!” Maria said cheerfully, sweeping into the kitchen.

Percy quickly pressed a kiss to his mom’s temple in apology. Paul had already turned to Percy with a broad grin and not a hint of hurt or disappointment on his features, “Hey! Glad you made it, your mom said you were back to feeling sick?”

“Uh, yeah.” Percy didn’t like lying to his mom, but what was he supposed to say? ‘Sorry I was late and didn’t call or text back for hours and you had to hear from Grover that I’d left school early and no one knew where I was— I was busy scaling walls and jumping across 20 story buildings!’ “Yeah, stomach stuff, I just passed out at home and overslept.” It’s what he told Sally, hoping and praying and begging the universe that she hadn’t stopped by the apartment between work and dinner to catch him in the lie. Luck was on his side today, as she hadn’t questioned it. “I’m way better now, though.” And famished.

Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he was hungrier than he’d ever been in his life— and pretty sure he could eat 3 whole pizzas on his own.

Percy finally risked a glance at his mother with her crossed arms. She looked at him expectantly, then to Paul, then back, and Percy jumped, “Oh, right, sorry for being late. And happy birthday, again.”

“Don’t worry about it, bud.” Paul clapped him on the back.

Sally was staring at her son again, and Percy shifted as her gaze dropped to his hoodie with a frown. Percy looked down at himself and had to bite his tongue to keep from cursing— he forgot about the tomatoes. And the ramen. 

He must look like a total slob. Unless she thought…

“It’s not vomit or anything!” He hurried to say, tugging the offending article over his head, and the corners of Sally’s lips twitched with the promise of a smile.

“Well I’m certainly relieved to hear that.” She uncrossed her arms and reached for the bread basket, “Try and text before you fall asleep next time, okay? Or maybe if you’re going to leave school, let me know so I can get you excused properly.”

Percy rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah, absolutely, I can do that.”

A black blur came bounding out of the kitchen then, a plate with several slices of pizza held out and a high-pitched voice that shouted “Percy!”

“Nico, inside voice!” Maria scolded, hot on his heels with a cold glass of Coca-Cola in one hand and a bowl of spaghetti in the other, “And do not run in the restaurant!”

The kid— what was he, 11 now? Younger?— turned to his mom with a whine, “But it’s my restaurant!”

“Not yet, sweet.” Maria placed the bowl and drink in front of Percy, planted a kiss on Nico’s head, and headed to the front of house.

Nico bounced in place, “Hi Percy!”

Percy smiled, “Hey, Nico.”

Once upon a time, the kid drove him up the wall; Nico had been about 8 when he began to hang out near the Jackson’s table whenever they came in, and Percy, then 14, had no clue how to deal with an excitable child who wouldn’t leave him alone, chattering and asking an endless amount of questions.

These days, he was more appreciative of the fact that someone thought he was cool, that there was a kid who saw him as a person worth looking up to.

As far as Percy could tell, this wasn’t an opinion held by anyone else, so it was nice that there was someone out there he’d never disappointed.

“Did you win?”

It took a second to process what Nico meant by the question. “Oh, yeah, the meet?” Percy grinned, “First place, all heats.”

Nico cheered, though he quieted at Maria’s backwards glare, “I knew you would!” He whispered at a level that could not actually be described as ‘quiet’, “You’re the best swimmer in the world!”

“Would you like to see the videos, Nico?” Sally offered, pulling out her phone as the boy shuffled to her side with a glowing expression.

Percy took advantage of the momentary distraction to shovel spaghetti into his mouth. His stomach had been making its impatience known for the past five or so minutes, and he didn’t want to risk it collapsing in on itself.

The chatter continued, Nico hovering at their table and peppering Percy with questions about every facet of his life, as well as sharing every facet of his own life. Paul and Sally joined in whenever they sensed Percy needed another food-break. 

Halfway through his second helping of pasta and 8th slice of pizza, Percy’s eyes flicked to a girl with a green beret squashed over dark hair stalking from the kitchen. “Hey, Bianca.” He offered a friendly wave as the girl’s gaze met his.

Bianca responded with a light smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes as she somewhat reluctantly wandered over, “Hi.”

“Percy’s school has two pools!” Nico informed Bianca excitedly.

Bianca furrowed her brow, “Yeah, we go to the same school now, remember?”

This was Bianca’s freshman year. Percy saw her occasionally in the halls, but she was hard to spot sometimes; her head was usually turned down and her shoulders hunched as if to make herself smaller.

“Oh yeah!” Nico beamed, then frowned, “I want to go to school with Percy… but you graduate before I’m old enough, right?”

“Yup.”

“Maybe you can get held back?”

Percy laughed, “You know, I really don’t want that to happen.” The only thing worse than 4 years of high school was 5 or 6 years of high school.

Nico was talking again, clearly gearing up for another twenty minutes of chatter, but Percy noticed Bianca slip away, the near-tortured look on her face, the clearly upset body language…

He hadn’t seen her in the restaurant more than a handful of times in the past year. Maria said she was going through a phase, that she’d grow out of it, but the way Bianca looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders— more so than the average 14 year old— there was clearly something more going on.

“Hey, give me a sec.” He interrupted Nico as politely as he could, standing and following Bianca out the front of the restaurant.

She wasn’t on the sidewalk, but Percy’s head tingled and he looked over in time to see the flick of dark hair disappear into an alley.

Alleys were rarely a place for teen girls. He frowned, following.

He rounded the corner just as Bianca was lighting a cigarette.

They both froze.

Bianca blinked her wide eyes at him, clearly panicked at being caught, but in several seconds she seemed to decide it didn’t matter and she turned her gaze away, taking a somewhat clumsy drag. After a cough, she mumbled, “Hi.”

Percy had been coming to this place so long he could remember this girl at younger than 10 years old— seeing her smoking in an alley at only 14 now killed something inside him.

It wasn’t like they were close, or knew each other particularly well. But she was always sweet, sometimes shy, sometimes bubbly, and had never looked so…

She looked fucking empty. She looked like she had given up.

He wanted to ask what was wrong, or reach out a hand, or help in some way, but what came out of his mouth was “You shouldn’t smoke.”

The girl gave a dry laugh, “What, are you going to tell my mom? My dad? Go ahead.”

“I’m not gonna tell anyone.” Percy leaned on the wall several feet away so as not to make her feel boxed in or threatened. His mind wandered to leaning on a similar wall earlier in the day, what followed... He shook the memory from his head. “Besides, that’ll just make you want to do it more— though your dad strikes me as old fashioned, so maybe he’d stick you in a closed car and make you smoke a whole pack to get you to quit, which I don’t think is a great way to handle that.”

Bianca snorted. “Yeah. He’s pretty old fashioned, alright.”

The way she said it had Percy pausing, as if there was something big he wasn’t aware of. Mr. DiAngelo wasn’t in the restaurant very often, but Percy knew he was pretty well off— he owned the Pizzeria, the laundromat, the loan office, and probably half the block. On top of that, the man always wore fine tailored suits with his dark hair slicked back and a calculating expression that was so cold and at odds with Maria’s warmth, Percy wondered how they got together. 

He straight up looked like a Mafia Don.

Percy had a sinking feeling, “Your dad… he doesn’t….  does he hurt you—?”

Bianca cut him off, “No! No, God no, not…” hesitation, then, “He doesn’t hurt me— or Nico, or mom.” She hurried to add when she saw Percy’s expression.

“So… he hurts other people?”

Bianca didn’t respond, opting to raise the cigarette to her lips.

Percy had a totally different kind of sinking feeling, “Wait, does he…? I mean, is he, like, that Godfather movie—“

“I don’t think you should know more than that.”

Percy cleared his throat.

Cool.

Gotcha.

He didn’t just look like some sort of mafioso— if what Bianca seemed to be implying was true, then Mr. DiAngelo was exactly what he appeared to be.

And yeah, he figured that could fuck up a kid pretty badly if they knew about something like that. 

And Percy was absolutely not equipped to handle this.

“So… did you always uh, know that about him?”

Bianca didn’t respond for a moment, then shook her head. 

“Is that when you started smoking?”

This garnered neither a response nor a head nod, but Percy knew the answer.

He sighed heavily, leaning his head back against the wall. There really wasn’t anything to say, was there? What the hell could be said? His shoes scuffed at the gritty concrete of the alley. 

“…So have you joined any school clubs yet?”

Bianca jerked her head to stare at him with an incredulous expression. “That’s your response?”

Percy shrugged, an idea that spawned the words forming before his brain even registered it, “I’m curious.”

Bianca studied him for a second, then shook her head.

“Well some of my friends have a pretty cool club.” He continued casually, “You know Thalia? Or… Zoe? Reyna?”

Her hand lifted and wavered back and forth in a “so-so” gesture.

“Right, yeah, they uh… I don’t know exactly what the club is for— I mean, it’s closed to cis guys like me, but I know they do stuff like go camping together and community service and sometimes political protests—“

“Like Girl Scouts?”

Percy knew nothing about Girl Scouts. “Yeah, sorta like Girl Scouts.”

Bianca’s expression remained skeptical, but Percy could see she was fighting to keep it that way.

He had first hand experience with how stubborn kids could be— how they could be lonely and hurting and desperate for connection yet refuse any help offered for any number of reasons; they don’t think they need it, they don’t want to seem weak, they think they don’t deserve help, etc.

Percy knew, because he was like that.

So he didn’t offer help. He just offered a club; didn’t suggest she check it out, didn’t overload her with a list of the pros of joining, didn’t say anything more than what was necessary.

They fell quiet, the sky darker as it gave way to twilight.

“That’s the one that meets on Tuesdays on the soccer field, right?”

“Yeah.” Percy kicked off the wall and stretched, “Man, I’m starving… you think your mom will bring me another plate of pasta if I asked?”

He swore a smile flitted across Bianca’s lips, and she stubbed out her cigarette beneath her pristine high-top, “Probably. She loves you.”

“Well I’m a lovable guy.” He shot finger guns in her direction, which was probably the dorkiest thing he could do, but Bianca was nice enough to laugh anyway.

“I’ll ask her for you, you should get back to your family.” Percy swore there was longing in her tone.

“Thanks— and hey, uh, it’s Paul’s birthday, can you ask…?”

“Of course.”

They headed back inside, and Nico jumped right back into explaining to Percy the new expansion packs for his favorite card game. A heaping plate of pasta was delivered a few minutes later, and Paul’s eyes brightened in surprise and delight when a mini cheesecake with a cannoli and candle on top was presented to him.

But Percy’s eyes wandered to the framed photos and the restaurant’s candlelit tables, then to Maria studying the New York Times crossword next to the kitchen, then Nico chattering beside him, and finally to the back door Bianca had disappeared through…

He hadn’t known what lay beneath all of it, what shadows lurked in Bianca’s life— maybe Nico’s too, even if the kid was blissfully unaware. Did Maria even know? Did she think it was no big deal, or did she worry herself sick over the danger of it, how her kids would be growing up with such a legacy looming over them?

What else was out there that Percy didn’t realize was happening right in the heart of his city, his home? It’s not like he wasn’t aware of crime— organized or otherwise— but he just…

Ignored it.

But maybe that was okay.

Because what was an 18-year-old kid supposed to do about it?

🕸️🕷️🕸️

Percy was never a morning person, but Saturday he was out of bed at 6:30 AM, dressed in an athletic shirt and joggers. He wanted to be able to move.

Sally’s jaw fell open in surprise when he entered the kitchen, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl— then another, then a banana, then he beelined for the fridge for yogurt.

“You’re up?” She glanced at the ‘Stunning Views of NYC 13 Month Calendar’ on the wall, as if not convinced of the date. “On a weekend?”

“Grover’s helping me with a new workout thing.” Not fully a lie. Grover didn’t know he was going to help Percy with ‘a new workout thing,’ but the details hardly mattered.

Sally’s eyes flicked to the time on her phone screen where it rested on the dining room table. Then she checked again. Then again. “I see… I didn’t hear your alarm go off…?”

“Uh… It broke.” Also not a lie.

“Right…” she still didn’t look convinced that this was reality.

“I slept a lot yesterday mom,” Percy spoke around half the banana he’d shoved in his mouth, “My body is probably just sick of sleeping, you know?”

She finally accepted that she wasn’t in the twilight zone and turned back to the funny pages, “Well text me when you get to the gym, and if your plans change call me.”

“Yep. Thanks ma.” He tossed his banana peel in the trash, kissed his mom on the head, and headed toward the door—

“Hey,” His mom’s call stopped him mid step, “Do you want a bag for that kiddo?”

Percy looked down at his arms, piled with three more apples, another two bananas, five yogurt cups, two bottled smoothies, and an entire box of cereal. “…Yeah.”

🕸️🕷️🕸️

Grover answered the door still half-asleep.

Percy took in his friend’s disheveled hair, his yawning jaw, his rapidly blinking eyes, then glanced over his head into the apartment, “Dad out of town?”

Grover squinted at Percy, completely bewildered, “Wh— yeah, but—“

“Great.” Percy pushed inside, folding up the now-empty grocery bag to tuck into his backpack, “We have stuff to do today.”

“…stuff…?” Grover yawned again, rubbing his eyes, “Dude, what time is it?”

“A little after 7.”

“…why?”

Percy turned and grinned, “Something crazy happened.”

Grover huffed, “Yeah, I’d call you being alive before 9 AM on a Saturday ‘crazy.’” 

“Not that.” Percy waved his hand as he marched to Grover’s room, the window— specifically the one without a fire escape.

“Percyyyyy,” his friend groaned, following despite his clear exasperation, “I want to go back to bed!”

“Don’t worry, you’re gonna be wide awake in a second.” Percy shoved the window open, poking his head into the alley; no one below, no windows on the opposite wall… Perfect.

He dropped his backpack to the floor and could hear the frown in Grover’s voice as he lifted a leg to straddle the window sill, “…Percy, what are you doing?”

“Trust me.” Percy, half out the window, turned to grin at his friend.

Grover’s eyes widened. “Percy, don’t—!”

He swung his other leg out and slid down onto the wall below.

He heard Grover’s shout, heard the trample of feet dashing across the room, and in a second his friend’s terrified face peeked out.

Percy gave a wave, crouched on the wall, “‘Sup.”

Grover blinked at him. And then he disappeared back inside with a ‘thump’.

…okay, so maybe there was a better way to break the news.

Percy clambered back inside. Luckily, Grover was only out for about 10 seconds, and he hadn’t hit his head when he fainted, so at least it ended fine.

“It is not fine!” Grover’s voice was shaky, “You just… the wall… that— you—- how?!” 

 Percy shrugged, digging around in Grover’s pantry for the snacks he knew were hidden in the very back of the top shelf. Usually the only options at the Underwood residence would be all-natural-granola that tasted like cardboard and sugar free cereal that came from some weird vegan grocery store. Luckily, Grover’s dad was barely home, and he NEVER looked so far up in the cabinet. 

Percy didn’t even need a stool to reach now. He just jumped, sticking to the ceiling with one hand while the other searched for Cheez-Its. “Not super sure, to be honest. I have a theory, but—“

“This is insane. You know this is just… are we having a shared delusion?”

“Doesn’t a delusion mean you believe something that’s not actually happening?” Percy rotated himself from where he hung to face Grover, “Because I’m pretty sure this—“ he gestured, “Is happening.”

Grover seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilation, “Percy this doesn’t—“

“Can you breathe slower? I’m gonna get really worried if you faint again.”

“I didn’t faint, I… I swooned!” 

“Yeah, because that’s super different and better.” Percy grabbed the crackers, some fruit snacks, and a twinkie that had to have been a disturbing amount of years old, before dropping to the ground.

Grover stared at him as if he’d never seen his friend fully before. “Have you always had these… powers?  Are you an alien? Are you like Superman? How long have you kept this from me?”

“No, no, probably not, and since yesterday.”

At least he relaxed at those answers, “Okay, yeah, makes sense, I mean, you had that fight— and you look a little different. And you were acting weird.” Grover paused. “Weirder than normal, I mean. You were freaking me out.”

Percy hopped onto the chair to crouch rather than sit properly, dumping his snacks on the table, “Imagine how I felt; I didn’t know what was going on either.” He began digging into the Twinkie, which Grover wrinkled his nose at.

“Alright, so, what now? Like, what’s the next— okay, do you want breakfast or something, instead of eating all my snacks?!”

Percy shook his head, popping open the crackers, “Had breakfast.”

Grover leaned his elbow on the table, exasperated, “Is this appetite a forever thing?”

“God I hope not. It’s barely sustainable.” He chewed through a handful of food, then tilted his head, “and as far as what’s next…” a half-feral grin spread across his lips, “Wanna help experiment?”

🕸️🕷️🕸️

“Are you sure about this?!” Grover called, though he was kind of hard to hear.

Percy was four stories up— they found a building with an empty alley a few blocks from Grover’s place, and he stood on the edge of the roof looking down.

Grover had his cell phone raised, camera pointed up at Percy, but even from so far away Percy could see he was shaking.

“Positive!” He yelled back, even though he wasn’t positive at all.

“And you’re positive we shouldn’t drag that mattress over from the dumpsters…?”

Percy didn’t know a ton about physics, but he knew enough to realize that if this fall was going to shatter his legs, a thin, bed bug ridden trash-mattress wasn’t going to save him.

Besides, they already tried two stories with no trouble; he may as well have hopped down a curb. Why not double it?

“Ready?” Before Grover could respond, before Percy could chicken out, he jumped.

Percy landed lightly on the ground in mere seconds, crouched with a hand out to steady himself. His head tilted up and he grinned again.

He found himself grinning a lot since yesterday.

Grover released a sigh of relief and stopped recording to help Percy up, which Percy didn’t really need but he appreciated his friend all the same. “I’m not sure if that’s ever gonna stop being freaky to watch.”

“You know, I’m kind of already used to it?” He brushed off his joggers, “Okay, what’s next on the list?”

He continued to straighten out his clothes while Grover squinted at a piece of paper, “Okay, we did climbing, flips, jumps… Time for strength? We’ll have to go find stuff for you to lift—“ Grover yelped as Percy ducked down and lifted Grover in the air as if he were an empty cardboard box.

“…I hate this.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re gonna be annoying about it— put me down!”

Percy laughed but did as asked, and he swore Grover was hiding a smile too.

They learned a lot throughout the day; Percy could lift a car, which felt pretty cool, and he could walk sideways and upside down without needing to use his hands. He could fall at least 50 feet without injury (they were too nervous to try any higher than that), and his vertical and horizontal leaps were unparalleled.

They sat on the roof back at Grover’s building towards mid-afternoon, Percy snacking heartily on pretzels while Grover reviewed the videos they’d taken.

“What are you gonna do?”

Percy paused, mid-pretzel. “What do you mean?”

“With your powers?”

Oh.

Hm.

Percy’s brow furrowed, and Grover pressed, “I mean, are you going to become an Olympian gymnast, or some sort of daredevil, or just get famous, or… you know, the obvious?”

“Obvious?”

Grover shot him a look. “Superhero.”

Percy swallowed hard, suddenly not hungry for the first time since the field trip. He forced a dry laugh. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“Well why not?”

“What do you mean ‘why not?’” Percy sighed, running his hand through his dark hair, “Just look at me, I’m not… I’m not superhero material. I don’t have— I don’t…” he huffed through his nose. “Heroes in the comics are all cool and charming and selfless and have their shit together. I'm none of those things. I’d be a shitty hero.”

“Those are heroes in comics. This is real life— who says you have to be one way or another?” Grover tapped his knee, “You could be like, an antihero?”

Percy snorted. Not good enough to be a hero, not bad enough to be an antihero. “Just… forget about it. I have cool powers, that’s it. I don’t know what I want to do with them, for now I just want… I just want to have them.”

Thankfully, Grover didn’t push the subject, and they fell into their more normal conversation topics; videogames, skateboarding, that sort of stuff. But something gnawed at Percy’s gut, a sick feeling he was all too familiar with.

Indecision.

He didn’t know what to do for college, where to go, what to study. He didn’t know what kind of job he wanted, if he wanted to move out or stay with his mom. He wasn’t sure if he was still going to try and train to become an Olympic swimmer. He didn’t know how to deal with being cooking-partners with Annabeth all semester, or how to deal with the Bianca thing, and now?

Now he ended up with fantastic super powers, and he didn’t even know what to do with those either.

The fact that something so incredible could happen, and yet nothing changed when it came to Percy’s long list of flaws…

Well, that probably meant nothing could help him.

And that realization sucked.

Chapter Text

“So what did you do this weekend?”

Percy refrained from jumping at the question, removing his AirPods as Annabeth slid into her seat beside him.

It was startlingly casual. Her tone, the simplicity of it— when was the last time they had small-talked?!

Not to mention the brief freakout of “oh god she totally knows,”  which was impossible. Yet ever since the events of the weekend, Percy felt jumpy. The elation of having freaking superpowers could only stretch so far before worries of being carted off to a secret lab for testing or becoming some sort of sideshow attraction arose.

“Uh…you know, a bit of this, a bit of that. Hung out with Grover.” He tried to sound nonchalant, avoiding her intense stare as he flipped through the day’s ingredients worksheet — but even out of the corner of his eye, Annabeth was so startlingly…her. Impossible to ignore. Intimidating, even with the most innocuous topics.

“Mm.” She opened her own packet, twirling her mechanical pencil between her fingers. “He was really worried when you disappeared Friday.”

Percy feigned interest in the list of common types of peppers. “Yeah, uh, I was just still feeling sick.”

“So you lied about being better.” Annabeth swiveled on her stool to face him, even as Percy continued to avoid looking at her directly. 

“I didn’t— I mean, it wasn’t a lie if I thought I felt better, right?”

She studied him. “And now?”

”…now what?”

Annabeth gave a small huff, one Percy may have missed had he not been so familiar with the way her nostrils flared ever so slightly when annoyed. It was comforting to know those quirks she’d had as a kid were still there— though he impressed himself by being able to catch that movement in his periphery. Maybe another example of his new 6th-ish sense? “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, right, yeah— cool! I mean, fine, I feel…” God why was this so hard. “I feel fine. Great, even. Awesome.” He finally gave in, turning towards her and giving two big thumbs up.

Annabeth pursed her lips, as she always did when trying to solve a puzzle. Unlucky for her, Percy was pretty dang certain he was far beyond any “solving”— even without the super powers. Finally, she shrugged and turned back to her paper. “Where’s the cutting board?”

“Huh?”

“The one you took.”

“Uh…” he scratched his head, “I think in the faculty parking lot. I mean, that’s where I last saw it.” Maybe honesty wasn’t the best policy here. Annabeth, who almost never showed blatant confusion beyond those scrunched features and furrowed brows, looked downright bewildered.

The silence between them stretched on for agonizing miles. A desert without an oasis to save Percy from his self-inflicted mortification.

Finally, Annabeth turned back to the packet, schooling her expression to neutrality. “…Right. Okay.” 

“…Yeah. Yup. Okay.”

Mx. Harper flicked the lights off, saving Percy from further embarrassment as a video in the history of Latin American cuisine and flavors began to play.

An hour later, when the bell chimed and the lights came on, Percy dashed from the room before he risked displaying more stupidity than he already had.

🕸️🕷️🕸️

“While Voltaire passed a decade before The French Revolution began in earnest, he was one of the movement’s largest influences.”

Percy tried to pay attention; Mr. Brunner’s class was one of his favorites. At least, the lectures were. Percy was awful at memorizing dates and names, so while quizzes and exams didn’t always go well, the classes? The classes were never boring.

But Mondays hadn’t been great for his attention span before the whole superpower-thing. His anxiety from first period turned to excitement once more, and following Saturday and Sunday’s experiments, his ability to focus was worse than ever.

He gazed out the window, the multistory buildings of the city stretching far beyond his line of sight; he itched to get out there again, to fling himself from rooftop to rooftop and climb the tallest of skyscrapers and look out over his home. There was a longing for that feeling of vertigo he now embraced, the swoop of his stomach when he dropped ten, twenty, thirty feet…

It didn’t feel real. At the same time, it felt more real than anything else. Percy felt grounded in himself in a way that only swimming had fulfilled before. Whereas he once felt too small to fill the space of his body, yet somehow simultaneously crammed within its confines, he was now in tune with every joint, muscle, and limb. Swim meets and practice had given him brief reprieves, when it all worked together to propel him through the water. Now that glorious, comfortable sensation seemed to be his baseline.

This extended to his other senses; ADHD already made him extra aware of every little sound and movement around him, but now the neurodivergence was on steroids. There was the tapping of a student’s pencil from across the room, so quiet as the eraser bounced on the surface of the desk that Percy shouldn’t have been able to hear it, but he did. The buzzing of a fly near the wall clock made his mind buzz in tandem. His leg bounced. His fingers drummed in time with that pencil. The window revealed a bustling world he ached for, full of nostalgia and love and a sense of home he didn’t think anyone outside of New York City could ever understand.

His eyes flicked to a group of tourists stopping to snap photos of the historic Goode Highschool building, then to a vendor pushing his hotdog cart up the block, lips moving soundlessly in what Percy imagined were muttered curses at the tour group blocking the sidewalk, then to the pigeons that bobbed atop the brick walls that bookended the school’s gated entrance, waiting for the opportunity to bicker over fallen snacks.

“Now this will be on the quiz Friday—“

Percy straightened, forcing his attention to the front and hurriedly trying to copy down the PowerPoint projection. Who even knew how many slides he’d missed at this point.

“Voltaire was inspired by many philosophers, such as John Locke and Descartes. He championed and expanded upon their writings on Rationalism, which if you took my class on ancient civilizations last year, you’d remember our unit on Greece—“ Mr. Brunner’s eyes found Percy’s and he smiled. He was one of the only teachers Percy felt called on him out of true belief he might have the right answers, rather than in an attempt to catch him off guard. “Mr. Jackson, perhaps you can recall those early philosophers who laid the foundations for the classical Rationalists?”

Percy thanked whatever forces out there in the universe that he’d managed to focus back on the class at the right time. “Uh, I think… Plato was a big one?” Relief flooded him when Mr. Brunner nodded encouragingly— it was less that Percy actually remembered whatever it was Plato said, and more that he was the most famous old Greek dude who talked a lot. “and… he taught Aristotle, so probably him too. And that math guy. I think.”

“Pythagoras, yes.” Mr. Brunner clicked to the next slide, and despite Percy’s relief at the fact that he hadn’t made an utter fool of himself, he silently cursed that he hadn’t finished copying down the bullet points. “You’ll find few philosophers who weren’t influenced by those early Hellenic and Roman writers and thinkers. Voltaire’s inspiration did not stop with philosophers— even in his prose and poetry he invoked the stylings of authors like Virgil.”

The 5 minute warning bell chimed, and immediately students began to gather their things. “As I said, there’s a quiz on Friday, so be sure to take a copy of the slides from the pile to study or locate them in the online portal.” Mr. Brunner took a packet from the top of the pile and beckoned to Percy, who was already out of his chair with his backpack slung over his shoulder.

Percy slouched forward to weave between the line of students hurrying to grab a packet and leave as soon as possible so they might take advantage of the passing period to see friends or scroll social media.

“My TA was able to convert the slides into a more dyslexia friendly layout,” Mr. Brunner said as he handed the pages over. “I know that was a problem in last year's classes, so I hope this will make things a little easier— I’ll have them replace any presentations online with the updated versions as well.”

Percy blinked. Man, finally getting those accommodations might really pay off, even if it had taken until senior year to implement them properly. “Cool, thanks, I’ll uh… I’ll let you know if it’s better.”

Mr. Brunner smiled, waving Percy out the door.

🕸️🕷️🕸️

English went fine, up until the literal last second. 

When the bell rang, Percy was ready to book it when Paul, like Mr. Brunner, gestured for him to come to his desk.

“Got your worksheet for me?”

Percy stared.

Oh. Right.

He hadn’t even touched his homework all weekend. Who could blame him? There were kinda more exciting things happening.

“I, um, I kind of… forgot. But my next period is lunch, so maybe if you let me I can do it now.“ he swung his backpack around to dig for the paper, the broken zipper creating a gaping, toothy maw.

Percy frowned. It wasn’t there. He delved deeper, hoping to find it crumpled at the bottom—

Nada.

He cleared his throat, Paul’s raised brows making it hard not to feel sheepish. “My backpack broke on Friday, I think it fell out, um…can I have another copy?”

Paul reached into his desk, producing a fresh page and handing it over. “Get it done before the end of the lunch period and I won’t have to dock points for it being late. There’s an empty desk in the back for next class, you can sit there.”

Percy thanked him before hurrying to the secluded corner. Sitting in on the wrong class always felt like the height of awkwardness. The less time spent here, the better.

Students began to file in once more, Paul writing up the AP Literature class’ agenda for the day on the board.

Even worse than intruding on a normal class, then. These were the smart kids who intimidated Percy more than any other group at school, even if most of the academically-inclined population were perfectly polite. He couldn’t help but assume they were judging him.

The swish of a blonde ponytail taking a seat at the front turned the scenario into a full blown nightmare.

Dammit.

Percy tried to focus on his paper, make sense of the questions and remember answers from chapters he hadn’t read. This proved near impossible.

The class started, and ten frightening minutes in Percy finally, FINALLY bullshitted his way through the final question and sped up to Paul’s desk, laying the paper atop it and pivoting to rush out again.

Even without looking, he swore he could feel Annabeth’s eyes burning into the back of his head.

🕸️🕷️🕸️

Monday’s lunch went markedly better than Friday’s. Percy wondered if Matt Sloan had caught a suspension, or detention, or was avoiding him on purpose. Either way, his absence was a positive.  Percy’s tray was once again piled with what seemed to be a ludicrous amount of food, and Grover shook his head in amazement while they whispered about their experiments and what they should try next.

Percy’s Environmental Science class reminded him he’d forgotten to do the online lab over the weekend. And Mrs. Green was far less forgiving than Paul, so that was fun; at the very least, she had to grudgingly accept Percy’s accommodations and allow him an extra day to complete it.

And complete it he did; the special study hall on his schedule had been a godsend all semester. He’d never been so consistent with turning in homework, and the tutors and instructors who specialized in learning disabilities helped a lot too. Even so, Percy only barely managed to get anything done, the nervous energy he’d been holding onto all day building again as they approached the last period on his schedule.

Finally, finally came that final class; Swim Practice.

“Jackson!” Percy winced as Coach Hedge shouted his name the second he exited the locker room.

Right. He’d missed practice on Friday too. He turned reluctantly, wringing his swim cap in his hands. “Yes coach?”

“Don’t think just because you’re our best swimmer you can skip out on practice!” The short man had his arms crossed, striking his usual wide stance. “I want 20 laps from you, front stroke.”

Percy bit back a groan, squashing his cap over his hair. “Sure thing, coach.”

While the rest of the team was gathered to go over the schedule for the meet in two weeks, Percy stepped onto the starting block, snapped on his goggles, and braced himself for the chill of the water.

Then he dove in.

The shock to his senses came as expected, but there was something different about it. The cold brought all the biting exhilaration and adrenaline as it always did, but it didn’t bother him as much. It was as if his body felt the temperature change but decided it had no need to send any pain signals in response.

His hands sliced through the water as easily as it did air. The propulsion of his kicks held all the power of a motorboat. He found that he didn’t need to surface for air as often as usual, and even after several laps, his muscles didn’t burn from exertion.

Excitement grew. He hadn’t even considered what his abilities would mean for swimteam— and now, experiencing the difference first hand? It was like Christmas morning.

“Jackson!”

Percy registered the yell of his name as he reached the wall, and he popped out of the water to find Coach Hedge standing over him, eyes wide, mouth agape, face red. The rest of the team was around him, looking just as awestruck. He suddenly realized that the coach had been calling his name for at least a minute, without Percy even registering it. He yanked off his goggles, hanging onto the side of the pool. “Yeah?”

“That— you— I said 20 laps!”

Percy had lost count. He blinked. “How many more do I have left?”

“You—you reached it 3 laps ago! Rodriguez!” The coach barked back at one of the other swimmers. “What was the time on that?!”

The boy shook himself from his stupor. “I-I don’t know, Coach, we didn’t time it but… maybe a little over ten minutes? Or it could have been less—“

Another guy whistled. “Olympic numbers, for sure.”

Coach Hedge removed his cap, wiping his brow with the back of his hand and utterly flabbergasted. Percy had never seen him speechless, not even when Percy won his final freestyle heat by a full lap the year before. It was always a “Good going kid, if you apply yourself, maybe we could ship you off to Greece!”, ignoring the fact that the Olympics were held in different locations at every event and hadn’t been in Greece in two decades.

The quiet was getting awkward. Percy’s teammates had begun to murmur amongst themselves, and he felt his face flush— God, he wasn’t even out of breath! He cleared his throat. “Guess my practice over the summer paid off?”

Hedge barked a laugh. “Paid—?! We gotta get some official times on record, maybe call Guinness— no, no but you’re probably already tired out, that’ll slow you down if we time ya now— might be more impressive though— get outta there son, you’ll prune! Rodriguez!” He jabbed a finger in the boy’s direction again, “Have the team run drills— Jackson, you… you…” he scratched his head as Percy lifted himself out of the pool, dripping. “…keep doing laps, what are ya getting out of the pool for? Back! Back in!” He blew his whistle full force, and the team all began scrambling to follow orders. 

Percy shrugged and dropped back down in the pool as Coach Hedge placed a foot on the starting block, leaning down as he lifted his stopwatch. “Let’s see some backstrokes, kid, they’re your weakest. Come on, go go go!”

🕸️🕷️🕸️

Percy held himself back from fully showing off. He was torn between enjoying the praise, and dreading drawing attention to himself. So he feigned exhaustion, panting as he exited the pool and trying to ignore the way Coach stared at the times in his clipboard while muttering.

A hot shower and a final bell chime later, he was booking it out the school gates and jogging to a nearby alley. After confirming there were no passerbys, he leapt onto the wall and grinned, speeding up to the roof.

Nothing unwanted had stuck to his hands today. He’d gotten used to the feeling of sticking and unsticking himself, and considering how disastrous most of his classes went, he was glad there was no added stress.

He needed to climb, run, jump, and let go. In almost no time, Percy had become addicted to his abilities. It was hard to remember how he managed to get by before them— even with the awkward school day trying to remind him.

Percy was free.

Maybe it didn’t matter if he never figured out how to utilize his powers for riches or fame or whatever else. It wasn’t like he had any desire to become a professional wrestler or gymnast— though becoming an Olympic swimmer had always been a goal. Maybe that was all he needed.

But this? This was more than enough on its own.

He shed the stresses of the day with every bound over a building and every whoop from his lungs. He was so high up, he didn’t even worry about anyone seeing him— who could recognize him from so far away?

With a broken shoelace from lost and found tying his backpack closed, a renewed confidence from swim practice, and a grin on his face, Percy propelled himself all the way home.