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Chapter Text

Paul looked at Percy. And then at Sally. And back again.

“You know, when you two said you had something important to tell me, this isn’t where I thought this conversation would go,” he said.

Percy tilted his head and raised one eyebrow, “Where’d you think this conversation was gonna go?”

Paul leaned back and rubbed at his face, awkwardly chuckling a little bit. “To be honest, I thought this might be a ‘coming out’ kind of a conversation.”

That broke the tension that had settled in the Jackson’s apartment since the two of them had told Paul that they needed to talk to him. While Percy let out a very bewildered, “What!”, Sally started chuckling too.

“Yes, I suppose that is a more reasonable expectation.”

Paul smiled at his hopefully-soon-to-be-fiancé. In some ways, he was relieved. After clarifying that Percy was comfortable with it at his fifteenth birthday, Paul had officially asked Sally to marry him almost two weeks ago. Her smile had practically lit up the room, and she’d gotten a little teary eyed, but she hadn’t quite said yes.

“There are some things that Percy and I haven’t explained to you yet,” she’d said. “It wouldn’t be fair to you if we married before you knew what you were getting into.”

Which was a bit of a disappointing response perhaps but he understood. He knew that there could be some parts of your past that could be… difficult to explain but were sometimes necessary to explain to others if you wanted to continue any kind of meaningful relationship with them. Heck, Paul knew he wouldn’t have felt right getting this far with Sally if he hadn’t explained…well, the whole thing with his mother to her. (Better she find that out before they started planning a wedding.) Whatever it was that Sally and Percy needed to tell him, he could certainly give them the time they needed to figure out how.

And so he waited. He pretended he didn’t notice the whispered conversations that broke off when he got anywhere near earshot, the way Percy would sometimes turn towards him, open his mouth as if to blurt something out, before shutting his mouth just as quickly, the way Sally would sometimes look between him and the bookshelf where she had some of Percy’s childhood photos on display.

Was it kinda awkward and uncomfortable? Yes, but Paul could deal with that, especially as whatever it was seemed rather important to Sally and Percy.

And when they finally asked him to sit down and have a talk with them, well his mind had whirled through the possibilities. The most positive option was that Percy wanted to come out to Paul and was just really nervous about it. Paul got that; he’d been there; he’d done that. Although that option didn’t explain Sally’s nervousness.

And then there was the worst option he could think of, that Sally’s ex-husband had somehow reappeared after going missing all those years ago. The most obvious problem there, well, that sorry excuse for a man had been abusive. If he was back, then Sally and Percy were in physical danger.

And there was also the legal problem. If Sally’s ex wasn’t really dead, then technically she was still married to him. Which meant Paul couldn’t marry her, at least not without a divorce that was bound to get messy and probably end up hurting Sally and Percy some more. After all, Paul couldn’t imagine that someone who had formerly been abusive to them would suddenly stop when given a new way to control his victims’ lives.

Of course, all those thoughts went out the window the second they explained that this had to do with Percy’s father. Now, Paul didn’t know much about the man, even having met him once. He’d seemed nice enough then, if a bit odd, and Sally and Percy usually mentioned him with a sort of fondness. He knew the man was Greek and at sea pretty much all of the time, both of which had contributed to him not staying in Sally and Percy’s lives. And that was why Paul couldn’t think too highly of the man. While it was nice that it seemed like he was trying to make… something of an effort to be in Percy’s life now, the man still had abandoned his pregnant teenaged girlfriend and their son for most of the next twelve years.

Which could be what this was all about. Maybe Percy’s father was trying to make up for lost time. Was he trying to get shared custody of Percy? Would he try to take him back to Greece? (Would Percy even have citizenship there?) Or was he trying to have Percy live with him at sea, on a boat who knows where in the world? Did this man even have any parental rights to Percy, or had they been revoked given he hadn’t even bothered to be there at his son’s birth?

Paul might not have been Percy’s parent, (Sally had made it very clear that she wasn’t dating to find another parent for her son), but he had grown to care for the kid. And every possibility Paul could think of meant disrupting Percy’s life and taking him away from the person he cared about most, his mother. Paul really hoped Percy’s father wasn’t that self-centered that he’d hurt his son and former girlfriend like that…again.

So, of course Paul was somewhat relieved to hear that none of that was the case. Sally and Percy didn’t want to discuss abusive exes or negligent fathers or teenaged self identity crises with him. No, what they wanted to tell him was far stranger.

“Paul, I’m a demigod. Like Perseus. The original Perseus.”

“We didn’t know how to tell you. After all, I’d realized pretty early on that you weren’t like me. You aren’t one of the few people who can see the mythological hidden to most people. We know this makes it hard for us to prove.”

“I’m Poseidon.” “Like the Greek god of the sea?” “Yes, very much like that.”

“I… um… Okay. But do you believe us?” Percy said, clearly trying his best (or the best any fifteen-year-old can manage during a tense and awkward conversation with his mom’s boyfriend) to get the conversation back on track.

And there some of the tension returned. Percy looked hesitantly at him, as if afraid that Paul would start screaming or crying or otherwise react poorly. Sally looked back and forth between Percy, Paul, and the bookshelf, which Paul just realized held not only Percy’s childhood photos, but also the family’s books on Greek Mythology.

This was clearly why Sally had held off on giving him a complete “yes” when Paul had asked her to marry him. She didn’t want to marry someone who wouldn’t accept her son and the mythological aspects of their lives. And well, she had said she didn’t want to marry someone without them knowing what they were getting into.

“The monsters are real too. And titans. And there’s like these prophecies and this war and—“

“Percy, sweetie, you’re rambling.”

“Oh… I…um…”

“It’s okay, baby. Let’s try one thing at a time, okay?”

Did Paul believe them?

“I don’t know what to believe,” he finally told the two waiting Jacksons. “I mean…” Paul let out a deep breath. “This is… a lot. And it sounds very…” Paul took another deep breath, steeled his courage, and looked Sally and Percy in the eyes. “I don’t know what to believe. But I trust the two of you. And this is clearly important to the two of you. So I trust you enough to stick by you, even if it means dealing with gods and demigods.”

“And the monsters?” Percy asked quietly.

“Yes, I’ll deal with the monsters too. If that’s what it takes to stay with you.” That’s when Paul’s nerve broke. He looked away, awkwardly tapping his fingers together. “That is… if you two still want me to be around and, um, a part of your lives.”

Percy still looks a bit suspicious (or perhaps, concerned), but Sally just looked at him with the softest smile, tears beginning to form in her eyes, “Of course we still want you in our lives, Paul. We wouldn’t have even tried explaining all of this to you if we didn’t.”

Paul nodded and looked at Percy, “And you?”

“What? Of course, I’m okay with this,” Percy said. “I did tell you a few weeks ago that I thought you and mom marrying was a great idea.”

“So then…” Paul turned back to Sally, and softly asked, “Can I take this as a ‘yes’ then?”

“Yes,” Sally said, eyes shining, “Yes, I’ll gladly marry you.”

Chapter Text

Paul probably should have expected something like this. He knew that his stepson was in his class. He knew that said stepson, Percy, was a demigod. And he knew that he taught the Odyssey to freshmen every Spring.

Anything else? Oh ya, Percy had a friend named Rachel (also in Paul’s class) who also knew that the Greek Myths were real, despite not being a demigod herself.

Ya, Paul really should have expected this.

Although, in his defense, Sally and Percy tried to act as normal as possible, as if the monsters and gods and who knows what else didn’t exist. At least, most of the time. Paul suspected this was for his benefit, that they were trying to ease him into the mythical side of things as easily as they could. But all of that meant that, sometimes, Paul forgot that the mythical existed.

(And maybe Paul wasn’t entirely to blame for forgetting. After all, there was the Mist, a supposedly magical force that made most people, like Paul, not notice or not remember the mythical world around them. Ya, Paul was going to partly blame his lapse in memory on a magic substance he didn’t even understand.)

And besides, it’s not like the initial class started out weird. In fact, everything went as Paul expected (he passed out handouts about important characters and vocab words, along with the school’s copies of Robert Fitzgerald’s translation of the Odyssey, before explaining some context about the Trojan War and Homer). At least, until Percy stopped by to talk to him after class.

Now this, he was expecting. While Paul could tell what an enormous relief it was to Percy to have an audiobook version of whatever text they were discussing in class, Paul also knew how self-conscious he was about needing accommodations in the first place. So, at the beginning of the semester they had made a deal. Paul would give Percy a printed book during class, just like he would with any student who didn’t have accommodations, Percy would come up to him after class to exchange it for an audiobook.

And that’s exactly what Paul thought was going to happen on that day too. Well, until Percy asked his question.

“How important is it that I read this translation for your class?”

Paul looked up from the box of books he was going through, having just found Percy’s audio copy. “Um… Why?”

Percy awkwardly shifted in front of him, stack of textbooks and notebooks under one arm, school’s copy of the Odyssey in his other hand. He looked between Paul and the book, before nervously licking his lips and asking, “Like, can I read a different copy or do I have to read this translation?”

Paul studied his stepson. “I suppose the specific translation doesn’t matter. It’s more important that you understand the story and the themes. But the audiobook and the printed text are the same translation so… I suppose I’m confused about why you’re asking this.”

Percy fidgeted uncomfortably and looked at the ceiling. “So… instead of the audiobook could I read my own copy?”

Now that piqued Paul’s curiosity even more. “Yes, you can if you’d prefer. You don’t have to use the audiobook; it’s just an option you can have if you want it.” Paul hesitated a bit and then said, “Although, can I ask why you want to read your own copy instead?”

Percy fidgeted some more before placing the school’s copy of the book in the box with all of the other extras. “I’ll explain when we get home?”

Ya, Paul decided, he was definitely nervous about something.

“Okay. Is Rachel still coming over tonight?” Paul asked.

“Yep.”

“Do you need me to write you a pass for your next class?”

“Nope.”

“Okay.” Paul gave his stepson one final look over, noting that he was still trying to look anywhere but at Paul. “Do you need anything else from me, Percy?” he asked as softly as he could.

That got Percy looking at him again. “No, I um… I’m just gonna go,” he said quickly, pointing at the door before slipping into the hallway.

Paul looked at the door his stepson had just left through a moment longer before continuing to get ready for his next class. Percy could be a bit odd at times, but he was a good kid. That Paul knew.

*****

It wasn’t until his free period later in the afternoon, that Paul realized why Percy might have been so nervous talking about The Odyssey with him.

Percy’s father was Poseidon. As in, the same Greek god written about in The Odyssey.

It had to be awkward enough for Percy to have his stepfather as his teacher. (‘Though Paul had promised both Percy and the administration that he would keep that fact out of the classroom as much as possible.) But to have your stepfather teach your class about how your dad was the main antagonist of the book you were reading in class? That had to be uncomfortable in ways Paul couldn’t even begin to imagine. Not to mention hearing his classmates discuss his family history and whether his dad was a “good guy” or not?

Oh, Paul was going to have to go over his lesson plans and carefully monitor classroom discussions in a way he had never had to do before, wasn’t he?

And he really had to talk to Percy too. Tonight preferably, maybe after Rachel left. At least, to ask him if there was anything he could do to make this easier on the poor kid. He was already stressed out enough from the mythological war going on. Percy didn’t need to stress out about mythological issues at school too.

But until then, Paul would just have to hope that the description of Poseidon in his handout wasn’t too offensive.

*****

The ride home was uneventful. Rachel talked about the new art project she was working on (“I’m freezing some watercolor paint in ice, and then letting the ice melt on my paper. That will form the background. ‘Though, I have to wait until the paper is completely dry before I can do anything else with it.”), and Percy expressed both his disappointment and gratitude that basketball season was over (“Look, I’m not going to complain about having more free time after school. Or not having to spend more time around Dixon. But I do kinda miss having a workout that doesn’t involve me being chased by monsters.”) Paul was more than happy to let the two teens talk about whatever and enjoy their tiny moment of (mostly) normalcy.

It wasn’t until they got home that they had to face the complications of their mythical reality again.

After greeting Sally, Paul started to prepare dinner with her while the kids set up their homework at the kitchen table.

Rachel pulled a book out of her bag. “So,” she said, looking back and forth between Paul and Percy, eyes glittering with mirth, “The Odyssey.”

Paul looked over from the cabinet he was looking through. So apparently they were having this conversation now. Percy just sighed loudly and dropped his backpack by the kitchen table.

“I take it that you started that in class today, huh?” Sally said, looking faintly amused as she filled a large pot with water.

Percy just sighed again, pulling his notebook and handout out of his bag.

“What?” Rachel protested. “It makes sense to work on my English homework while I’m at my English teacher’s home. Besides,” Rachel playfully elbowed Percy in the ribs, “I’m sure you have some interesting insights on The Odyssey, hmmm, hero?”

Percy tiredly rubbed a hand down his face, grumbling, “Well, ya, I guess. I mean, I’ve had to read it before.”

“Of course you have,” Rachel replied, “but that’s not what I was referring to and you know it.”

Percy looked unamused and walked out of the room. Paul heard the soft creak of another door in their apartment opening.

“Really!” Rachel called after him. “You’re just going to walk away! Honestly Percy, if it bothers you that much I’ll stop.”

Paul drizzled some olive oil in a pan. “I think he might be going to get his copy of The Odyssey.”

“He told you about that?” Sally asked.

Before Paul could answer, Percy returned with a book covered in very-not-English writing in his hand. “Kinda.” Percy said. “I figured it would be easier to explain if I showed him.”

Paul plopped some ground beef into the pan before passing off the spatula to his wife. “Is this something I’m going to be able to see or this some sort of magical demigod thing?”

Percy paused, considering. “Well, technically it is a magical demigod thing but you should be able to see it.” Percy handed the book to Paul.

In that moment, Paul was glad that he had taught some Ancient History classes before. It certainly helped him recognize some things from his stepson’s heritage. The cover of the book had a Greek trireme on it surrounded by waves and Minoan style dolphins. Printed at the top of this scene was the word “Οδύσσεια”. It wasn’t hard for Paul to guess what that meant. He flipped through the pages, which were filled with the exact same kind of writing.

“Your copy of The Odyssey… is in Greek?” Paul asked, looking back towards his stepson.

Rachel peered over, clearly curious about the book. Percy just rubbed the back of his neck, and kind of chuckled awkwardly. He looked towards his mom, probably for support, but she just waved her hand at him like, “Go on. You got this, sweetie.” and went back to stirring the meat in the pan.

Percy took a deep breath and said, “Ya. Ancient Greek. I can read Ancient Greek. It’s a demigod thing.” He looked at Paul apprehensively. “That’s not going to be a problem, is it? Or do I have to read an English translation for English class?”

Paul handed the book back to Percy. “Like I told you before, sport, I care more about whether or not you understand the story and its themes, not what version of it that you read. Just do me one favor?”

“What?” Percy asked, warily.

“Turn in your homework in English,” Paul said. “You might be able to read Greek, but I can’t.”

For the first time since they started talking about The Odyssey, Percy visibly relaxed. He smiled and said, “Ya, I think I can manage that. But you’re going to have to put up with my horrible penmanship.”

Sally smiled at her son, mumbled, “Proud of you.” and kissed the top of his head, before passing him a spaghetti sauce jar to open.

“But for real though,” Rachel said, her eyes wide, “you can read Ancient Greek?”

And all of Percy’s awkwardness came back, “Read, write, speak, ya.”

“That is so cool!” Rachel exclaimed, which clearly wasn’t what Percy had been expecting. Paul chuckled slightly at how flustered his stepson was over the fact that his friend found it cool that he could understand Ancient Greek, before turning back to the spaghetti sauce. Sally smiled and added the pasta to the water that was (finally) boiling. The two of them listened while Rachel interrogated Percy instead of them getting started on their homework.
“So they teach Ancient Greek at your camp then?”

“Kinda, but it’s technically something we’re born knowing, so it’s more like practice than learning a new language.”

“So that’s why you’ve read The Odyssey before.”

“Yep. And The Iliad, The Argonautica, and a whole bunch of really depressing tragedies.”

“Still must be hard to get through all those big long poems with your ADHD and dyslexia.”

“Actually… about that…”

Paul looked up from the sauce that he was stirring. Percy was once again looking to his mom for help. Sally smiled softly at him. “Do you want me to explain this one, sweetie?”

“No, I ummm…” Percy swallowed. “I think I’ve got it. I just, ummm…”

Sally gave him a reassuring smile, and patted him on the cheek.

Percy took a deep breath before explaining. “Actually, the dyslexia is a side effect of my brain being wired to understand Ancient Greek. My brain sees “p”s and “h”s and tries to read them as “rho”s and “eta”s.And that’s not getting into any of the rest of the alphabetically, and grammatical, and all those other linguistic differences. My brain assumes everything I read and write should be in Ancient Greek. Which means I have problems reading and writing in every language, except Greek.”

Rachel crossed her arms. “Huh. That kind of sucks.”

Percy smiled tiredly at her. “Doesn’t it?”

“That’s why you wanted to read your own copy.” Paul said. “It’s easier for you. Reading a book written in Ancient Greek is just as much of an accommodation for you as an audiobook is.”

“Ya, except they’re harder to find.” Percy replied.

“Well, now that we’ve gotten that settled, how about you kids clear up the table and wash up.” Sally said. “As soon as I drain this pasta, dinner will be ready.”

*****

Thankfully, Paul was able to catch Percy before he turned in for bed.

Percy leaned against his bedroom door frame, “So what’s up, Paul? Tonight didn’t get too weird for you, did it?”

Paul raised an eyebrow, “Finding out my stepson is multilingual is considered weird now?”

“I guess not,” Percy replied. “So, what’s up?”

“It’s about The Odyssey,” Paul noticed that Percy’s relaxed pose became just a bit forced. “I’m aware that the people and creatures in The Odyssey, while fantastical for your classmates, are very much real for you and very much a part of your life.”

“Ya…” Percy said, clearly wary about where this conversation was going.

“I just want you to know,” Paul continued, “that if any topics come up that get too overwhelming or hit too close to home for you, let me know, okay? I can try to steer the conversation to a different topic or something else if you’d prefer. It’s one thing to discuss themes and character motivations. It’s another to hear your classmates discuss your life and your family.”

Percy thankfully had relaxed again, but he still looked at Paul like he was trying to figure something out. Finally, he nodded, “Okay. I uhhh… Thanks Paul. I’ll keep that in mind”

“No problem, kiddo,” Paul replied. “Night, Percy.”

Percy smiled, “Night, Paul.”

*****
“So, wait, Athena basically just told Poseidon that she did what he didn’t want while he was gone?”

“Yep.”

“Why? Is she trying to rub it in his face or something?”

“I’m not going to comment on that.”

“Oh come on. You definitely have opinions on this seeing as Poseidon is your father and Athena is your friend’s mother.”

“Well ya, of course I do Rachel, but Athena doesn’t approve of me and Annabeth being friends. And I kinda like being Annabeth’s friend so I’m not gonna give Athena more reasons to dislike me.”

Paul looked up from the vegetables he was chopping for curry. There is no way he just heard what he thought he heard. The look on his face must have been something because when Sally looked up from the flatbreads she was making, she asked him, “Are you okay?”

Paul paused a moment before answering, mostly because he realized that under normal circumstances, his question would sound completely ridiculous. “Is that true? Does Athena really have opinions on her kids’ friends?”

But since Paul no longer lived in the world of “normal circumstances”, Sally just smiled, placed a flatbread in the skillet, and said, “Oh I don’t know about all her kids’ friends but she definitely has opinions about Percy.”

Well, okay then. An ancient and powerful goddess of wisdom and battle strategy had opinions about his stepson. Why not?

(Although Paul couldn’t figure out why she wouldn’t approve of Percy. As far as he could tell, Percy was a good friend to Annabeth. And there was no way the goddess of wisdom would project her issues with another god onto that god’s kid. That would be beyond petty.)

And now his stepson was discussing all of this with another student of his as part of the homework that Paul had assigned. Probably because there was no way they could have this conversation in class. Not without strange looks from his other students anyway.

This was just how his life was now, wasn’t it?

*****
At this point in the school year, Percy and Rachel had a system down. Whenever they did their homework at the Jackson-Blofis residence, they would park themselves at either the kitchen table or the coffee table (depending on how much space was needed to make dinner), and, with the usual amount of teenaged-griping, get started on their homework, asking Paul or Sally or each other for help as needed. Rachel helped Percy with whatever words were being a problem on any given day, and reminded him to get up and move or mess with one of the fidget toys she kept in her bag when he was getting antsy. Percy helped Rachel with her Latin I and world history homework, explaining conjugations and complicated political alliances. (Turns out Percy had a knack for languages and history.) This system ensured that they both got their homework done at a decent time and with minimal pain.

So Paul wasn’t at all surprised when Rachel called him over for help.

“So why does Polyphemus believe Odysseus?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” Paul replied.

“I mean,” Rachel said, gesturing to her book, “why does Polyphemus think ‘nobody’ is someone’s name? Does it sound like a name in Greek or–”

“It’s a pun,” Percy interrupted, not taking his eyes off of his copy of the Odyssey.

Paul and Rachel just stared at him. “What?” Rachel asked.

Percy still didn’t look up at them. “It’s a pun,” he repeated.

“Care to explain that, kiddo?” Paul asked.

“See Odysseus says his name is ‘Outis’ right, which means, like, ‘nobody’ in English. But that’s not the only way you can say ‘nobody’ in Greek. You can also use ‘me tis’. Which one you use depends on, like, the grammar of the sentence. This is why in the conversation between the Cyclopes and Polyphemus, they go back and forth between the two phrases. Polyphemus says ‘Outis’ is hurting him; the Cyclopes clarify that ‘me tis’ is hurting him, which Polyphemus agrees with. Which you know is kinda true because ‘me tis’ sounds and looks like ‘metis’ which is part of Odysseus’ epithet ‘polymetis’, which is basically his name and–'' Percy looked up and finally seemed to realize that Paul and Rachel were just staring at him as he gave his impromptu lecture. “It’s a pun.” he repeated.

“So,” Paul asked, because it had occurred to him during Percy’s explanation, “you’re saying this probably didn’t actually happen, or at least, the meeting with Odysseus and Polyphemus didn’t actually play out like this? This scene is just a linguistic joke the author of this part of The Odyssey decided to make?”

“No,” Percy said, looking slightly nervous at all of the attention. He kept tapping the end of his pencil near his mouth like he desperately wanted to chew on it. “A joke that’s also a clever trick? That sounds exactly like something the Hermes kids would do, and Odysseus is descended from Hermes so…”

“Of course, he is,” Rachel said. “But that doesn’t answer my original question. Polyphemus really thought ‘nobody’ was a name?”

“Probably,” Percy said, still fidgeting with his pencil. “Most names in Greek myths are puns or references or mean something. Also…” Percy did take a few chews of his pencil before continuing, “Polyphemus isn’t that bright. I mean, he still holds a grudge against the name ‘Outis’ even though it’s been thousands of years and he definitely knew Odysseus’ name at one point.”

“You’ve met Polyphemus?” Paul asked in awe and worry, once again being hit with the weight of his stepson’s world.

Rachel wasn’t so impressed. “Of course you have,” was her only comment.

Percy just gave a kind of waving gesture with his hand and nodded sheepishly, before going back to chewing on his pencil.

“Okay then,” Paul said. “You kids need any more help?”

They both shook their heads and Paul retreated back to making dinner with his wife, Rachel offering Percy some gum in the background and Percy declining because it didn’t have the same mouthfeel as a pencil.

*****

Paul stopped Percy before he could get out of the car, the next day at school.

“Here,” Paul said, handing Percy a slip of paper.

“What’s this?” Percy said, taking the offered paper, and studying the words on it.

Paul pinched his fingers together nervously, “It’s a hall pass. For fifth period today.”

Percy looked at Paul and raised an eyebrow, “Okay. That’s your class. Why?”

“Because we’re going to be discussing Polyphemus in class today,” Paul paused. “And that means we will be discussing your father as well. And what he did to Odysseus and his crew.”
Percy had clearly decided that looking out the car window was better than looking at Paul right now.

“I understand that today’s classroom discussion might get uncomfortable for you, and I don’t need you to participate in the discussion to prove that you understand the text. We both know you understand this text far better than I or your classmates ever will.” Paul said, watching his stepson, who still wouldn’t look at him. “So, I’m giving you the option to leave class today if you’d like. You can go spend the period in my office instead. I’m not going to make you listen to your classmates discuss whether your father was a good guy or not.”

Percy swallowed hard, and looked at the slip of paper in his hand. “Thank you, Paul.” he finally managed to get out.

Paul gave Percy a small smile, ‘though he didn’t know if the teen noticed because he still wouldn’t look at him. “No problem, sport.”

*****

Sunday grading. Not one of Paul’s favorite parts of being a teacher. And judging from the looks on Percy and Rachel’s faces, Sunday homework wasn’t much better.
It probably didn’t help that it had been a tense weekend in the Jackson-Blofis household. Percy had rushed out of his room Friday night with a packed bag, said he had to go to Camp for a “battle mission”, reassured Sally that he had a ride and would be home Sunday before giving her a kiss on the cheek and leaving. And, true to his word, he had returned that morning, with singed clothes, bruised ribs, and a bandaged wrist. This wasn’t the first time this had happened, and events like this grew more and more frequent as the school year wore on.

It left an odd sort of tension in the Jackson-Blofis apartment. A relief that Percy made it home, relatively safe, and the reminder of war that followed with him.

And Percy clearly didn’t want to talk about anything mythological, just wanting to pretend he was a normal kid, and that Sunday homework was the worst part of his weekend. Rachel didn’t even ask him for any anecdotes as she did her English homework. Just muttered under her breath as she filled out the worksheet Paul had assigned.

“They’re bright red, you know.” Percy said, sounding as though his chest had been hollowed out.

Paul just looked at Percy, confused and worried. That comment certainly had come out of nowhere. What exactly had happened to him this weekend?

“What?” Rachel asked quietly, clearly also confused and worried for her friend.

Percy looked at the two of them, as if he could quite place them, before waving vaguely at Rachel’s worksheet. “The sun cows,” he said, voice still pretty hollow. “They’re bright red, you know.”

Percy looked at them as if begging them to understand what he meant, what he couldn’t seem to bring himself to say.

Rachel studied him with worried eyes, then nodded and went back to her worksheet.

Paul tried to give Percy a smile, “Okay. Thank you for telling us, Percy.”

*****

One thing a lot of people seemed to forget about The Odyssey is that only about half of the text is about the dangerous sea voyage full of gods and monsters. The other half is Odysseus trying to figure out how to come home and rejoin his family after he has already arrived in Ithaca. The personal and political situations Odysseus found himself in on his return were complicated.

Which might be why Percy had gotten a bunch of other books written in Greek from his room, and was furiously cross referencing them for his homework.
“You’ve read all of those?” Rachel asked, watching wide eyed as Percy flicked through his sixth book of the night, clearly looking for a particular passage.

“Mmmm-huh,” Percy managed with his pencil between his teeth. (They should probably get him something safer to chew on than pencils, Paul thought to himself, since that clearly seemed to help Percy focus.)

“I thought you didn’t like books and studying,” Rachel teased.

Percy took his pencil out of his mouth and wrote something down, having found whatever he was looking for. “I like stories,” he corrected. “It’s just that reading in anything but Greek is a pain, remember?”

“Whatever you say,” Rachel replied, before returning to her, far less researched, homework.

And when Paul was grading Percy’s homework later, he couldn’t help but feel proud and quite honored.

Paul knew Percy had a lot going on. Between school bullies, mythological monsters, disabilities, and family members stirring up wars, he wouldn’t blame Percy if he decided not to make homework his top priority. But he’d watched Percy do homework for months, seen how hard he tried despite everything. And seen how much more effort he’d put into Paul’s class, the one teacher who was rooting for him, who really knew how hard things were for him, as if he wanted to make Paul proud.

So, of course, Paul would be proud reading his stepson’s essay on the reunion between Odysseus, Telemachus, and Penelope, cross referenced with comparisons to the homecoming (and lack thereof) of the other heroes from the Trojan war. Percy had pulled passages from The Iliad and at least four Greek tragedies, doing way more that Paul had asked for, to make his point.

This was Percy’s way of trying to thank him for being there, and helping out where he could, despite the fact that he was an outsider in this world of Greek myths. Of course, Paul felt honored and proud of his stepson.

Chapter Text

“Hey Mom, I’m home.” Percy called out as he entered the apartment that he and his mom had called home for the past year and three quarters.

There was no answer. Which, honestly, didn’t surprise Percy. He’d been a latch key kid for a while now and a boarding school student for a while before that. While he had gotten kinda used to being greeted by silence, that didn’t mean that he didn’t hope that his mom would be there to greet him back. But he was well aware of the fact that his school got out earlier than his mom got off of work. And yet, he still called out his greeting every day on the off chance that maybe, maybe, his mom had beaten him home that day.

Well, could be worse, Percy thought to himself as he took off his shoes and hung up his jacket. Smelly Gabe could still be here to greet me. He shook his head. Best not to think about that. Just focus on today and what he could do until his mom got home.

He wondered what his mom had planned for dinner that night. If he could figure that out then maybe he could help get it started. Sounded more appealing than starting on his homework anyway.

Percy signed and leaned back against the apartment door. Ya, it was definitely going to be one of those days where he should wait for his mom to come home before even attempting his homework. Who knew a regular school day could be so exhausting? Fighting his short attention span into focusing on his homework while trying to pull the English out of the Greek his brain insisted he was reading? Ya, that was a battle he was definitely going to lose. But with his mom’s help? Then Percy could probably finish most of his work. Probably.

Percy’s thoughts were interrupted by the shrill ring of their landline. Percy pushed himself off the door and made his way over to the phone to check the caller ID. Most numbers he knew he could just ignore, let his mom deal with it if they left a message. However, when Percy saw the number on the phone, he couldn’t help but smile. Ya, that was one number he didn’t want to ignore.

Percy picked up the phone, “Hi Mom.”

“Hi sweetie! I’d hoped you’d be home by now. How was school?” his mom greeted.

“Oh ya know, fine,” Percy replied. “Just a normal, boring day at school.”

“Were you hoping for something different?” His mom said, gently teasing.

“Well it certainly would be less boring,” Percy said.

His mom chuckled a bit at that before dropping into a more serious tone, “Percy, I have to work late tonight. I won’t be home until around seven. I’m sorry, sweetie.”

Percy swallowed down his disappointment, “Okay. I’ll be fine. I can get dinner started. Did you have anything planned?”

“We should have the stuff to make ginger chicken,” his mom replied. “And Percy, sweetie… You do remember that Paul was supposed to come over for dinner tonight?”

Percy sighed and leaned back against the wall. Right, Paul Blofis. His mom’s boyfriend. The guy seemed nice enough every time Percy had spent with him these past few months (not to mention the two times Percy had accidentally spied on his mom’s study dates via Iris-Message), but that didn’t make things less awkward. Paul was still, after all, the guy dating his mom. And while Percy tried his best not to judge the guy too much based on how his predecessor had been … well, Percy was still a bit wary.

“I’ll take that to mean that you forgot,” his mom’s voice came through the phone. “It’s alright, baby. I’ll call him and let him know that I have to cancel.”

“You said he’s a good guy, right?” Percy asked. “That he makes you happy?”

“I …” his mom sounded surprised. “Yes, why, sweetie?

“Don’t cancel. You should get to spend time with him.” Percy said, trying to ignore the part of his brain that was screaming at him about what an idiot he was being. “I can deal with being alone with him for a bit.” Especially if it made his mom happy.

“I know you are capable of dealing with him, Percy,” his mom said, concerned. “But sweetie, are you sure you want that? Will you be okay being alone with him?”

Percy took a deep breath to try and calm himself before replying, “Well, it’s bound to happen sometime, right? Seriously, mom, I’ll be fine. And if anything bad happens—“

“You can take care of it in the short term, and I’ll take care of it when I get home,” his mom finished. “I know, baby. Thank you, Percy. So you need anything else, sweetie, or should I let you get started on dinner?”

“Ummm, actually…” Percy started tapping the fingers in his free hand against the wall behind him. “Sometime after Mr. Blofis leaves can you, uh, help me with my homework? The letters really don’t want to stay still today, and I kinda ran out of energy trying to focus on them enough to puzzle out what they say.”

“Of course I will!” His mom said. “And Percy… if you feel comfortable with it, you can probably ask Paul for help too. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

Ya, ask the teacher for help with my homework, Percy thought bitterly to himself. That’ll go real well when he realizes how stupid his girlfriend’s son is.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he told his mom, feeling even more exhausted.

“Thank you, Percy,” his mom said. “I love you. Stay safe. Be good.”

Percy managed a small smile, “I will. Love you too. Bye mom”

“Bye sweetie.” And with that the line went dead.

Percy put the phone back in its holder and sighed. Ya, he definitely wasn’t going to finish his homework tonight. But he could get dinner started. That had to count for something, right?

*****

Percy was ripping apart kale when the inevitable knock on the door came. Percy finished shredding the leaf he was working on, trying to calm himself, before going to answer the door.

It’s fine, Percy told himself. It’s just Mr. Blofis. He’s not Gabe. And even though he’s a teacher, he’s not my teacher. He’s just mom’s boyfriend and she likes him so don’t mess this up for her.

Percy took a deep breath and wiped his hands on his pants. And with that, the only thing left to do was open the door.

Sure enough, Mr. Blofis was waiting on the other side. He gave Percy a smile that was probably supposed to be comforting, ya know if he didn’t look awkward and nervous too. At least, he didn’t look as awkward and nervous as Percy felt.

“Ah, hello Percy,” Mr. Blofis said. “Your mom called and said that it was just going to be the two of us for a bit.”

“Hi Mr. Blofis,” Percy replied. “Yep, mom has to work late.” Percy stepped to the side. “Are you going to come in?”

“Ah yes,” Mr. Blofis responded as though he had forgotten that that was what he was supposed to do. “Right. Thank you.”

Percy stood to the side, hands shoved in his pockets, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet while Mr. Blofis took off his jacket and shoes.

“I brought some blueberries for dinner,” Mr. Blofis said, holding the carton up. “So should we brainstorm ideas for dinner or do you want to—“

“I already started making ginger chicken,” Percy interrupted, trying not to look at his mom’s boyfriend, and hoping he hadn’t upset him.

“Ah okay,” Mr. Blofis replied. “I’m not familiar with that one. How can I help?”

Percy studied the man, trying to figure out how genuine his offer was. Functionally, it didn’t matter. Percy was more than capable of making dinner by himself. His mom had made sure of that. But Percy was well aware of the fact that there was a vast difference between offering to help because you really wanted to help and offering to help so that you could look good to another person. After all, even Gabe had tried to look good the first thirty seconds they knew him.

And Mr. Blofis wasn’t Gabe. At least, his mom didn’t think he was anything like Gabe. And Percy trusted his mom. And he brought blueberries so he couldn’t be that bad, right?

“You can help me shred the kale,” Percy offered. “The stems need removed and the leaves torn into smaller pieces.”

“I think I can manage that,” Mr. Blofis said. “Shall we head to the kitchen then?”

“After you,” Percy replied, gesturing towards the kitchen. I don’t really want you behind me. At least, not without someone else around to watch my back, Percy thought.

Mr. Blofis put his blueberries on the counter while Percy returned to the bag of kale and pulled out another leaf to shred.

“So,” Mr. Blofis said after joining Percy, “how much kale do we need?”

Well, this wasn’t awkward at all, Percy thought sarcastically. “Just enough to fill the bowl.”

“And after that?” Mr. Blofis seemed more comfortable now, having established something safe to talk about.

That didn’t mean that Percy had relaxed though, “We cut up the ginger and chicken real small.”

“Guessing that we cook it in a pan after—“

“Nope,” Percy interrupted. “It all goes in the rice cooker. With the rice.” Please, don’t be mad.

Mr. Blofis just looked surprised. “Really? Well, that’s very handy.”

“Ya,” Percy said. “I think that’s enough. I’ll do the ginger if you want to do the chicken. It’s in the—“ Percy bit back a curse.

Mr. Blofis looked over from putting the remaining kale in the fridge. “What’s wrong?”

“The chicken’s still in the freezer.” Percy admitted. “I forgot it. We can’t use frozen chicken.” Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“So, I’ll defrost it in the microwave first,” Mr. Blofis said. “It’s okay, Percy.”

Percy just looked at him. It’s okay?

“It’ll be fine,” Mr. Blofis repeated. “It’ll just take a few extra minutes. Why don’t you get started on the ginger?”

“…Okay.” Percy eventually settled on, before breaking off a knob of ginger. He got to peeling it while Mr. Blofis microwaved the chicken. The two of them settled into silence, comfortable on Mr. Blofis’s end, and rather uncomfortable on Percy’s.

It’ll be fine. Just focus on cutting the ginger. Mr. Blofis said it will be fine. He’s not mad. You haven’t fucked this up.

Eventually, after he started cutting the chicken… “So how was school today?” Mr. Blofis asked.

“Fine,” was all Percy would say. No, I am not going down that road with a teacher, any teacher, especially not one that my mom is dating.

“Do you have much homework?” Mr. Blofis asked. “Because I think I can take over the cooking if you want to—“

“I’ll do it later. Thanks,” Percy snapped. Just focus on the ginger, idiot. Just stay calm. Just breathe. Don’t fuck this up for mom. Mr. Blofis is just trying to be friendly because he’s mom’s boyfriend, and he’s asking about school because he’s a teacher. He doesn’t know your history with teachers and schools and that you’re a failure and an idiot and—

“I get the feeling you don’t want to talk about school,” Mr. Blofis said, interrupting Percy’s whirling thoughts.

Percy put his knife down, and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Okay, maybe I was wrong. Maybe I can’t handle this just yet. Di immortales, please let mom come home soon.

“Percy,” Mr. Blofis said, softly. Percy opened his eyes to look at the man. Mr. Blofis continued, “I know that this probably isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world for you. So, perhaps we could set some ground rules to make this more comfortable for you? Or I could leave, and we can try this again when you’re ready for it? If this is too much too fast, I get it, okay?”

Was this too much too fast? Maybe. It definitely was if things continued the way they were.

It was just that despite the fact that Percy had never seen Mr. Blofis be anything other than kind and caring in the few months that he’d known him, despite his mom saying that she thought he was a good man, there was still the reality that Mr. Blofis just happened to tick multiple boxes that put Percy on edge. And Percy was quickly coming to the realization that while he could deal with monsters and (most) bullies, teachers and his mom’s partners were a completely different, emotionally fraught issue.

Did he want Mr. Blofis to leave? He really didn’t want to ruin his mom’s night, especially after he said that he’d be okay with this. But that didn’t quite answer the question, did it?

And, to his credit, Mr. Blofis seemed to be letting him take his time to answer.

“What kind of ground rules?” Percy eventually managed when he’d calmed himself down enough to not sound panicked.

“Like topics you don’t want to discuss,” Mr. Blofis explained calmly. “Or things you don’t want me to do, like sneak up on you, for example. Things that will make you more comfortable.” Mr. Blofis went back to cutting up the chicken. “This is your home, your family I’m intruding on. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable if it can be avoided.”

“And…” Percy swallowed hard before gathering enough courage to finish his question. “You’ll leave if that’s what I decide will make me more comfortable?”

Mr. Blofis looked up, right in Percy’s eyes and answered without hesitation, “Yes.”

Percy took a deep breath. Mom likes him. He’s not Gabe. He’s not your teacher.

“I don’t want to talk about school,” Percy said.

“Okay,” Mr. Blofis replied. “I can manage that. Anything else?”

How do you say don’t grab me or yell at me without it coming off as concerning? Percy thought, as he went back to slicing the ginger. Eventually he managed, “I don’t like being touched or loud noises?”

Mr. Blofis tilted his head a bit at that, but thankfully ignored how unsure Percy sounded. “Okay. Anything else?”

Percy shook his head, way more interested in how thin he could safely slice the ginger than looking at his mom’s boyfriend. Could ginger make your eyes tear up like onions could?

“Okay,” Mr. Blofis said calmly, and Percy heard him resume chopping. “Let me know if you think of anything else.” After a few moments of them cutting in silence, Mr. Blofis asked, “Do you like board games?”

Percy cautiously looked up, “Does Uno count?”

“Sure, why not?” Mr. Blofis replied. “You play that a lot?”

“Kinda,” Percy said, some of the tension leaving him for the first time that night. “Some kids at the camp I go to invented a version called Evil Uno that’s pretty fun.” Well, until someone ended up in the infirmary, but Percy definitely wasn’t going to try to talk his way around that.

Mr. Blofis looked up at him with curiosity, “What’s Evil Uno?”

“Let’s put all of this in the rice cooker and then I’ll explain it to you,” Percy said. “Though if we’re going to play, can we play regular Uno?”

Mr. Blofis smiled at him, which Percy tentatively returned. “That sounds like a good plan to me.”

***

Sally walked in on their second round, Paul sitting on the couch, Percy sitting on the floor, coffee table between them, and dinner cooking away in the kitchen.

Percy’s eyes lit up when he saw her. “Mom!” He said, putting his cards down and leaping up to give her a greeting hug.

“Hey sweetie!” She said, returning his hug. “You two having fun?”

“Uh-huh,” Percy replied.

“Percy taught me about Evil Uno,” Paul said , joining the two of them by the door.

“Oh really?” Sally shot her son a sideways glance. Didn’t Evil Uno involve weapons?

Percy gave her a sheepish smile and made a kind of so-so gesture with his hand. “We’re playing regular Uno.” He clarified.

Sally smiled. “Well, that’s good to hear. I didn’t want to go to the ER tonight,” she teased.

“Yes well—“ Paul started, before being cut off by the beeping of the rice cooker.

“Sounds like dinner’s done.” Sally said. “Why don’t you wash up while I finish putting my things away.”

Percy nodded and shot off to the kitchen.

“He’s a good kid,” Paul said, before turning to her. “I brought blueberries. I don't know how well they’ll go with ginger chicken, but you and Percy seem to like them so…”

Sally smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you.”

***

Paul made his goodbyes after dinner. After he was gone, Sally went to her son’s room, where Percy had gone to (reluctantly) start on his homework. She sat down next to Percy, who was sitting cross legged on his bed, chewing on a pencil while glaring at a worksheet.

“Hey baby,” she said, running a hand through his hair. “What do you have to work on tonight?”

“Math worksheet,” Percy mumbled around his pencil. “History questions, some reading and English questions.” Percy looked at her pleadingly. “Can you—?”

Sally kissed the top of her son’s head, “Of course, baby.”

“Thanks,” Percy said, writing something down on his worksheet.

Sally wrapped an arm around her son, and rubbed his arm comfortingly. “How’d things go tonight, sweetie?”

“Fine,” Percy sighed. “Probably would have been better if I hadn’t freaked out but… Mr. Blofis seems pretty chill.”

“Ya, Paul mentioned something about that,” Sally admitted. “He was worried something happened to you at school. You want to talk to me about it?”

Percy chewed on his pencil for a bit before responding. “Nothing happened at school,” he started. “Like I said, today was boring. It’s just…” Percy fidgeted some more. Sally gave his arm a comforting squeeze.

“Sorry,” Percy said. “I was just being stupid. I got myself all worked up thinking about teachers and Gabe and I know you said Mr. Blofis isn’t like that and—“

Sally gave him a tight hug, “Oh Percy, you are not stupid. Especially not for getting stressed out about spending time with Paul. Did he hurt you, baby?”

“What? No!” Percy exclaimed, twisting himself in Sally’s embrace so that he could look at her. “No Mom, he was… really good. Calm. He let me set some rules about, like, what we could talk about and stuff when he noticed that I was getting all worked up. He even offered to leave and give me space. He was really good.”

“That’s good to hear, baby.” Sally said, smiling. “I just want you to be okay, okay sweetie? You’re my son. You come before anyone that I’m dating, okay?” Especially after I put you through the hell that was Gabe.

“I know, Mom,” Percy said. And then, “Have you told him about, ya know…”

“I thought we’d wait on the demigod thing for a bit, at least until things started looking like they might become permanent with whomever I’m dating,” Sally said.

“No, not that,” Percy said. He fidgeted a bit. “I meant the dyslexia, the ADHD, all my expulsions and—“

Sally cut him off with another kiss to the top of his head. “No sweetie. I figured that was for you to decide, when you’re ready for him to know that. I know you don’t have an easy time with teachers.”

Percy considered that and nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Of course, sweetie.” Sally said. “Now, is there anything else you want to talk about or should we get started on your homework?”

Percy made a face. “Homework, I guess. No getting out of it, is there?”

“No there isn’t, baby,” Sally said. She gave him one last quick hug, before unwrapping her arm from around her son, so the two of them could settle into a more comfortable position to work on homework.

Chapter Text

One thing Paul loved about his job was that it gave him an excuse to reread some of his favorite works of literature. Analyzing themes, picking up new bits of foreshadowing, returning to his favorite lines, it was all great fun (and much needed break from teaching Charles Dickens again. Seriously, why did everyone assume that all former English majors loved Charles Dickens?)

But it was the plays that Paul really enjoyed. The action, the dialogue, and the chance to reminisce on his past as an actor in one of the local community theaters.

And that’s how Paul decided to spend one quiet Saturday afternoon. Sally was out at a hair appointment, and Percy was in his room doing…something (Paul had learned that sometimes it was better not to ask what Percy was up to). So Paul had parked himself on the living room couch, lecture notes and cup of tea spread out on the coffee table, immersed in the words of Sophocles (or rather, the words of Sophocles according to Fitzgerald and Fitz that was).

So immersed in fact, that he didn’t notice his stepson coming out of his bedroom.

“So is that for fun or for school?” Percy asked.

Paul looked up to see Percy standing in front of him, squinting a bit as if trying to read the title of the book. “It’s for work.”

“We’re reading the Theban plays next?” Percy asked.

“No,” Paul responded. “The seniors are reading Oedipus Rex next.” Percy scrunched up his face at that. “You’re reading Romeo and Juliet,” Paul continued. “What’s with the face?”

Percy tapped his fingers against his leg. “I have opinions,” he eventually admitted.

Ah, right, that made sense. The Ancient Greek plays probably counted as part of Percy’s heritage. Paul really shouldn’t be surprised that he had some familiarity with them.

“Care to share?” Paul asked, taking a sip of his tea.

“Why do people care it Oedipus Rex?” Percy asked. “That’s Latin, and, unless you are reading it in Latin, that name makes no sense. The play’s Greek, not Roman. Rome was, like, a collection of mud huts on the Tiber River when it was written. Why don’t people call it by the Greek name or whatever you would translate that into whatever language they’re reading it in?”

“Well that’s… a very good question, Percy,” Paul said. “I honestly don’t know the answer to that.”

“Hmm,” Percy had clearly been hoping for an answer on that one. “Okay. So why Oedipus?”

“Because the Ancient Greek tragedies are one of the earliest forms of dramatic literature that we have,” Paul responded.

”Ya, no, I got that,” Percy said, waving his hand. “But why teach Oedipus specifically? Why not some other Ancient Greek play? You have a lot more options than the one you know your students are going to make weird sex jokes about.”

“It’s a good example of the Ancient Greek dramatic style,” Paul answered. “At least, according to Aristotle anyway. Why? What would you teach?

Percy rocked on his heels a bit before answering. “Antigone,” he decided. “Or Prometheus Bound. Or maybe the Troiades.” Percy shrugged. “They just seem… more relevant to most people these days. At least more so than some play about a bunch of people trying to avoid a prophecy. Most people don’t have to deal with prophecies.”

“Ah,” Paul said. He had a feeling that this casual conversation was going to get heavy real quick. “I’m guessing people on your father’s side of the family do?

Percy nodded, “Ya. Just one right now. At least, that I know of.”

That sparked something in Paul’s memory. Paul had remembered Percy mentioning something about a prophecy during the big “Surprise! Greek myths are real!” talk, but neither he nor Sally had elaborated on it since. And based on the look on his stepson’s face, it seemed like Percy might finally be ready to talk about it.

“So, there’s a prophecy?” Paul said, gathering his notes together.

Percy rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, gently tapping his fist into the palm of his other hand. Paul tried to decide how much of Percy’s fidgeting was nerves and how much was him having ADHD.

“Yep, a prophecy” Percy said. “A really important prophecy too. And it’s from the 1940s so it’s, like, old.”

Paul suppressed a snort at that, though he couldn’t help but smile. It was at moments like this that Paul appreciated the fact that Percy, despite regularly interacting with mythological creatures and several-thousand-year-old beings, was still just a teenaged kid.

“Okay, then,” Paul said. “So what does the future hold?”

“The end of the world. Kinda. Sorta. Maybe,” Percy replied.

That did get a small chuckle out of Paul, until he looked at Percy’s face. His stepson was still fidgeting massively (definitely more nerves than ADHD), his eyes darting between Paul and the rest of the living room anxiously.

“Oh,” Paul said, “that wasn’t a joke.”

Percy shook his head, and continued to fidget. Paul waited, letting Percy mull over his words and figure out how he wanted to explain whatever this new mythological horror was.

“So I don’t— I mean—,” Percy started, “So it’s not like—“ He put his hands on his face and groaned. “Why is this so hard?”

“Maybe because the end of the world is a terrifying concept?” Paul offered. “Why don’t we break it down? We can start with how the prophecy says the world will end?” Percy peered at him from between his fingers. “You know, like a swarm of locusts, or a rain of fire or a zombie plague.” That earned Paul a snort, and Percy relaxed some, still rocking on his feet but no longer hiding behind his hands.

“Right, okay,” Percy said, going back to tapping his fist and palm together. “So a choice.”

“A choice?” Paul echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep,” Percy said. “Someone’s going to make a choice and if they choose wrong, the world will end.”

“Okay,” Paul said, trying to sound calm. The fate of the whole world came down to one person! But it’d been at least seventy years since this prophecy had been made. Maybe it wasn’t happening soon. “Any idea when?” Paul asked.

“Whenever that person turns sixteen,” Percy answered. “I mean, given the war and Kronos rising and all, probably soon.”

At least, it’s not one of the gods, Paul thought, remembering how… temperamental they could be in all of the stories.

But still… Percy and all those other kids being dragged into their parents’ and grandparents’ war was bad enough. Did it have to be the end of the world too?

After Paul had learned about the war, he had decided to reread The Iliad to try and get an idea of what his stepson was caught up in. He hadn’t been able to finish it. After a certain number of “And then his limbs loosened, and darkness covered his eyes, and Hero, son of Someone fell to the earth,” (and there were hundreds of deaths listed that way), Paul couldn’t help but wonder how his stepson’s death might be recorded. Would he get to be “Percy, son of Sally”? Or would his father’s world only ever see him as “Perseus, son of Poseidon” without caring who he was outside of being a child soldier and a divine errand boy?

And now he was learning that Percy and his friends might lose their lives in their parents’ war, and the world still might end anyway.

Paul had decided that he didn’t like thinking about his stepson’s (all too likely) untimely death. Nor did he think too highly of his father’s side of the family.

“Okay. Who then?” Paul asked. Please let there be some good in all of this.

At that, Percy stopped fidgeting and stood still, shoulders back, hands at his sides, looking directly at Paul with eyes far too intense to belong to anyone who wasn’t part divine. In a moment, Percy had gone from fidgety teen to Greek hero. “Me.”

“You,” Paul repeated, completely dumbfounded.

Percy nodded sharply, like a general confirming orders.

“How do you know?” Paul asked, praying that Percy was somehow wrong. His stepson couldn’t be responsible for the whole world. He was just a kid. “What are the prophecy’s exact words?”

“I don’t know,” Percy admitted. “The gods have forbidden anyone from telling me or anyone else that the prophecy might be about.”

“So it could be about someone else?” Paul asked, trying not to sound like he was pleading. Let it be someone else.

“Possibly,” Percy said.

“Then are you sure this prophecy is about you?” Paul asked. “I mean, I thought bad things happened to people who assumed they knew what prophecies meant? Isn’t that what happened to Oedipus?”

Percy took a steadying breath and pinned Paul with a look more suited to a marble statue than a fifteen-year-old. “I’ve read Oedipus Tyrannos too, Paul. I know how it ends. The difference between me and the royal house of Thebes is that they were trying to avoid a prophecy. I’m claiming this one. The prophecy is going to come true anyway. They always do. I might as well choose to fulfill it.”

“But… why?” Paul asked. Why does it have to be you? Which maybe was a selfish thought, but hey, Paul wasn’t a hero and Percy didn’t deserve this.

Percy’s shoulders sagged at that, his face exhausted and sad. He looked at the floor, before quietly responding, “Because if I don’t then a little kid who’s been through far too much will have to. I can’t do that to him. It’s not fair.”

I think you just described yourself, kiddo, Paul thought.

“Besides,” Percy continued, “I’m pretty sure that the only way out of the prophecy for me is if I die before I turn sixteen, and I don’t really…” Percy took a shuddering breath as his composure broke and any resemblance to the heroes of old faded away. “I won’t do that to mom.” He finally said, staring down at the floor, his voice so quiet and small. “Or you. I won’t.”

Percy’s words echoed in Paul’s head. The only way out is to die. It’s not fair. What could you say to that?

Paul knew that happy endings were few and far between in Greek Mythology. Anyone who’d read Oedipus knew to “Count no man happy until he is dead,” right? But at least the heroes in those stories had gotten to grow up, get married and have kids before dying horrible deaths. Percy was only fifteen. Paul didn’t even know if Percy wanted to get married or have kids, but he should at least get a chance to grow up and decide for himself. Not die having barely started high school.

“I’m sorry.” His stepson said. “I know you didn’t sign up for this.”

Paul stood up and gently put a hand on Percy’s shoulder, but pulled back when he flinched. Percy finally looked at him, eyes pleading for any sort of comfort that he clearly didn’t know how to ask for. He was just a kid who’s been through far too much.

“You want a hug?” Paul asked.

Percy swayed a little, like he wanted to step forward but couldn’t get his body to comply. Then he nodded.

Paul put his arms around his stepson, rubbing comforting circles on his back. Percy stood still, arms still at his sides, not even crying, as if he was scared to do anything lest he break.

“It’s not your fault, Percy,” Paul said. “You didn’t ask for any of this.”

“But I’m choosing the prophecy,” Percy protested, voice cracking. “It’s my prophecy. It will be about me.”

The only way out for me is if I die. “It doesn’t sound like you have much choice in that, kiddo,” Paul said.

Percy went quiet as if he didn’t know what to make of that. Then, “I’ll make the right choice,” Percy said. “I’ll make you and mom proud.”

And Paul found in that moment that he didn’t care about that. He didn’t care if Percy was a hero or saved the world or any of that. He just wanted Percy to be safe, to be happy, to be able to grow up without prophecies or Olympus dictating his every choice.

Paul squeezed Percy tighter, “Don’t worry about that, kiddo. You already have.”

That’s when Percy broke, and he started sobbing.

Chapter Text

After what was now, clearly, months of struggling with his English class, Percy had finally given in and asked Paul for help with his English homework at dinner.

At first, Paul had been honored. He had thought that he had finally earned Percy’s trust enough to be asked for homework help. And while that might be partly true (Percy had been doing more of his homework in the kitchen and living room instead of hiding away in his room), Paul now suspected that the stress of the class had outweighed Percy’s fear of punishment for doing poorly in school.

“What are you reading in class, sport?” Paul asked as the three of them cleared the table.

“Fahrenheit 451,” Percy said, putting his plate in the dishwasher.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” Sally said. She kissed the top of Percy’s head, “You enjoying it, baby?”

Percy wrinkled his nose, “Not really. A guy who burns books walks around and thinks about how, maybe, his society is really messed up. It’s not super exciting.” Percy paused for a moment before adding, “Also, I don’t think he and his wife really care about each other.”

Paul snorted at that. “Why don’t you get whatever you are working on and we can work on it out here, okay?”

Percy nodded before heading off to his bedroom.

Sally watched him leave with a soft smile. “Thank you,” she said to Paul. “I’m going to work on my book while you two do homework, okay?”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Paul said, following his wife into the living room where Sally’s laptop and Paul’s copy of Fahrenheit 451 were. After all, Percy was supposed to have access to the audiobook versions of the texts his English class was reading, and Paul wanted to have a written copy to reference, if only to check the spellings of characters' names. He grabbed his copy and left his wife to write in peace. But it did surprise Paul when Percy returned to the kitchen table with his worksheet and one of Goode’s paperbacks.

“Stephan gave you a written copy too?” Paul asked.

Percy looked confused, “Stephan?”

“Er, Dr. Boring,” Paul clarified his colleague’s unfortunate, but accurate, name.

“Oh,” Percy said. “Ya, why wouldn’t he give me a copy of the book we’re reading?”

“I figured he’d just give you the audio copy, not both copies of the book,” Paul said.

Percy continued to stare at Paul, though his look had shifted from just confused to looking like he was trying to tell if Paul was pulling something over on him. Something he said had clearly put Percy on edge and Paul could tell he was second guessing asking him for help.

“What are you talking about?” Percy asked warily.

“You have a written copy of Fahrenheit 451,” Paul said, trying to keep his tone as calm as possible so as to not scare off his stepson. “You should have been offered the audiobook too? I thought that was something you wanted when you, Sally and I talked about things you could ask for in your IEP?”

That had been a conversation. It turns out that none of Percy’s previous schools had actually explained to him and Sally what accommodations Percy was entitled to have, and instead Sally had spent every year fighting with the schools trying to get Percy any help to make school more fair for him. Paul had been upset but not surprised. After teaching for twelve years, Paul was well familiar with how the education system tended to fail disabled students. He had been more than happy to help Percy get the accommodations that he needed.

Percy continued to look at Paul warily, but he didn’t seem ready to give up on this conversation, “Dr. Boring said the school didn’t have any audiobooks of Fahrenheit 451.”

“What?” Paul asked. Now it was his turn to be confused. “That’s not true. Goode has a few audio copies of every book the English classes teach. I’ve offered them to students in my class before.”

“What?” Percy asked.”But…” He trailed off, looking down at his worksheet as if it held the answers to his unasked questions.

A terrible thought occurred to Paul. “Percy,” he asked, “Have you been offered an audiobook at all this year?”

Sally must have heard some of their conversation (or maybe she just heard the increased defensiveness in her son’s tone) because she had left her writing and was standing in the kitchen doorway watching them.

Percy looked at Paul, and then up at his mom, and the remaining defensiveness seemed to leave his body, perhaps because he knew that his mom would always be on his side. Although, oddly enough, it seemed to be replaced by guilt.

“No,” he said. Percy swallowed hard, and looked away from them. “Dr. Boring said the school didn’t have any.”

That admission seemed to break the floodgates, and Percy started rambling, “I didn’t push it because I didn’t want to get in trouble, especially not after how hard you worked to get me into Goode, and then helping me with my IEP, which has been really helpful in my other classes. But Dr. Boring said that he couldn’t do my accommodations because they are either impossible or unreasonable for his class, so I’ve really been struggling, and after how bad I did on my last test I figured I needed your help and so–”

“Percy, sweetie,” Sally interrupted. “Breathe. One thing at a time, okay?”

“I–” Percy began, before taking a deep breath. He nodded, looking strangely defeated. “Mmhm.”

“Okay,” Sally said, sitting down next to Paul. She reached across the table to grab one of her son’s hands, rubbing comforting circles into the back of it with her thumb. “Now, what were you saying about your test?”

Percy shifted in his seat, and wouldn’t look at them.

“Do you want to talk about this with just your mom?” Paul asked.

Percy hesitated, then shook his head. “No. Sorry,” he said, still refusing to look at them. “It’s just that– I did really badly on my last test, and some of that because I couldn’t finish the reading in time, and then I couldn’t get my thoughts in order before the test was over, much less write them down in time, and I really, really didn’t want to disappoint you, and–”

“Percy,” Sally cut in, clearly noticing that he was working himself up again. “Breathe. You’re rambling again.” Once Percy had taken another breath, she asked, “Can we see your test?”

Percy slumped in his seat, and Paul fully expected him to say no, or at least only let Sally see it.

But he didn’t. He sighed, “Okay,” extracted his hand from his mom’s, and trudged off towards his room as if walking to his own doom.

Paul looked at the worksheet Percy had left behind, just noticing that it was printed on regular white paper, instead of colored paper. Percy’s words were still echoing in Paul’s head. Dr. Boring said he couldn’t do my accommodations. Paul knew that his colleague tended towards a more… old-fashioned style of pedagogy but to completely deny a student’s learning needs…

And it was October. Paul had just turned in his midterm grades for the semester. He wondered if that was why Percy had finally broken down and asked for help. He knew midterm grades would be coming home soon and he wasn’t getting the help he deserved at school. And in the class Percy struggled the most with.

Sally glanced over at him, concern written all over her face. “We’ll figure this out,” Paul reassured her. “We’ll help him with whatever is going on.”

Percy returned, test in hand. He wordlessly handed it to Sally and then slumped back in his seat.

“May I?” Paul asked, gesturing to the staple bound stack of papers Sally was currently leafing through.

Percy seemed to deflate further. “Sure. I don’t care.”

Paul looked over Sally’s shoulder at his stepson’s test, and tried to hide a grimace when he saw that it was all long answer questions. Honestly, who in administration had decided that Stephan should teach an Academic Freshman English course?

Paul could tell from reading over what Percy had finished of his test that he understood what he had managed to read. It was just that the ADHD, dyslexia, and dracanae ambushing him from alleyways on the way home from school made it hard for him to do the reading or convey his knowledge on tests and homework.

Some of that Sally and Paul could help with. Sally had been helping Percy with homework his whole life, and Paul had fought to get Percy access to accommodations at Goode and had started driving him to and from school after the dracanae incident. But all of that could only do so much. Especially if his stepson’s teachers decided that they didn’t want to do their job.

Now Paul considered himself to be a pretty calm guy. It was a pretty useful trait in his profession as even the most rowdy students tended to calm down on their own once they realized that they couldn’t get a reaction out of him.

Between intervening when some sophomores decided to see how many sour skittles it would take to make an energy drink undrinkable, learning that his stepson is a demigod who regularly fought monsters, and trying to help his students learn how to deal with the complicated emotions that came with growing up, well Paul did his best to adapt to it all and remain a calming presence throughout.

But there were some things… Well, they really got under Paul’s skin. And this… this was one of them.

Paul rubbed his temples, trying his best to appear calm for his stepson’s sake. Sally sat between them, eyes narrowed, Percy’s most recent English test still in her hand. The stepson in question sat across the kitchen table from Paul, looking as terrified as a deer caught in a car’s headlights. Paul couldn’t blame him for that. In the little time that Paul had known him, he knew how uncomfortable attention made Percy, especially if it involved school and teachers and grades.

“So, to clarify,” Paul said, “Stephan has been denying you your accommodations all semester?”

Percy squirmed in his seat and tensed up more. “Ya,” he said quietly. “Sorry.”

“We’re not mad at you,” Paul reassured Percy at the same time that Sally said, “This isn’t your fault, baby.”

Percy relaxed somewhat at that, but he still looked at his test warily. It was like he still expected punishment, or at least disappointment, from the big red 56/100 written on the top sheet.

“Percy, sweetie, you haven’t done anything wrong,” Sally reassured him. “In fact, I’m proud of what you managed to do.”

“Mom, I’m pretty sure I’m failing,” Percy said, dejectedly. “What is there to be proud of?”

“Maybe the fact that you managed to do half of the work even with your teacher actively sabotaging you?” Sally said.

“Well, maybe if I wasn’t so stupid it wouldn’t matter,” Percy grumbled, sinking further into his chair.

“Perseus, you are not stupid,” Sally said. “You are a very bright young man. Your brain’s just wired differently from most people’s and that can make some things harder for you.”

“Ya, whatever,” Percy slid further down.

“I think you’re going to fall on the floor if you keep doing that, sport,” Paul said. “And your mom’s right. I wish I had more students who had your grasp on themes and character motivations. You’re not stupid because you’re disabled and need things that other people don’t.”

“Hmm,” Percy grumbled in disagreement as he pushed himself back up in his chair.

Sally sighed. “You don’t have to believe us right now, okay sweetie?” She ran a hand through her son’s hair. “Why don’t we focus on what we can do to help you?”

Percy grumbled some more, “Fine.”

Sally ran her fingers through his hair a few more times before turning towards Paul. “So would it be better to contact Dr. Boring first, or should I just bring this up with Ms. Mercia?”

Percy perked up at the name of his case worker, “What? No! I don’t want a whole case conference about this!” He put his head in his hands and groaned. “I just wanted help with my homework. Not for this to become a whole thing.”

“Percy,” Paul said, “the way that Stephan is treating you is wrong.”

“I know,” Percy said. “But why does it have to be such a big deal?”

“Maybe it doesn’t,” Paul offered. Both Sally and Percy looked at him, though Sally with interest and Percy with suspicion. “I could talk to Stephan, teacher to teacher. Try to get him to follow your IEP. And if that doesn’t work, then we can get the administration involved.” Paul looked directly at Percy, “Is that okay with you?”

Percy glared down at the table, kicking his feet against the floor, “I guess.” Percy looked up at Paul, slightly hopeful for the first time that night. “You really think that’ll work? You really think you can just talk Dr. Boring into giving me my accommodations?”

Paul tried to sound more confident than he felt. After all, Stephan could be stubborn. “It's worth a shot, kiddo.”

Sally reached over to ruffle Percy’s hair, “And if that doesn’t work then I am going to schedule a meeting with Ms. Mercia. I am not going to have you struggle and fail because your teacher refuses to give you what you need.”

“Okay,” Percy sighed. “Now can I please just do my homework now?” He made a face. “That felt wrong to say.”

Paul and Sally chuckled at that.

“Yes,” Paul said. “Now let’s see that worksheet of yours.”

*****

Midterms were always a busy time of the semester. Getting book orders in for next semester, students worrying about their grades, class registration… Well, needless to say it was a few days before Paul was able to find time to talk to Stephan.

In the meantime, Percy’s progress report had come home. Mostly Bs to high Cs, with an A in Latin III (“Good job, kiddo!”). And then, of course, the expected F in English. If Mr. Jackson wishes to pass this course, and not have to repeat it next year, then I suggest that he applies himself to his work, both in and out of the classroom, was written in the comments section. That comment had not gone over well with either Sally or Paul.

All of which is to say that Paul was already pretty frustrated with his colleague before they were able to have a conversation. But Paul was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and hope that he was just confused on how to implement Percy’s accommodations. That lasted all of three minutes.

“Look Paul, I understand that you have a soft spot in your heart for the boy considering that you are in a relationship with his mother. But I cannot give him grades that he does not put in the work to earn,” Stephan said.

“Percy is trying to put in the work to succeed,” Paul explained calmly. “But he needs his accommodations to do so.”

“I do not give students special treatment just because I like them,” Stephan said.

“I’m not asking you to,” Paul took a calming breath. “I’m not even asking you to like Percy. But you do have to give him the tools he needs.”

“He has access to the same tools and materials as all of his classmates,” Stephan stated. “It would be unfair to them if I gave him shortcuts just because he cannot be bothered to care or put some effort into his class work.”

“He’s disabled! Not lazy nor uncaring,” Paul took another deep breath. “He cannot do things that his classmates can do on their own. The audiobooks, the oral tests, the handouts on colored paper, all of his accommodations are tools he needs to help him learn.”

“He will need to learn to do these tasks on his own, Paul,” Stephan said. “You and his mother coddling him will not help him in the real world.”

“Stephan,” Paul said, patience wearing thin, “regardless of whether or not you agree with them, Percy has a right to his accommodations. You are required to provide them.”

“We are required to provide reasonable accommodations,” Stephan said. “I see no reason that the boy needs them. Therefore, I will not provide them.”

“Well then,” Paul said, standing up from his chair, “I suppose this conversation is over.”

“I’m glad you can see reason,” Stephan stated smugly.

“Oh I don’t agree with you,” Paul replied. “But I am beginning to see that I should have just gone through official channels to deal with this.”

“Now Paul—“

But Paul had already left the office of Dr. Stephan Boring.

*****

Percy waited until they were in the car to say something.

“So I take it you talked to Dr. Boring today,” he said, sounding defeated.

Paul sighed, “You have him after lunch, don’t you?”

Percy hummed in agreement.

“I’m sorry, Percy,” Paul said. “What did he do?”

“He made some really pointed remarks about how if anyone was disappointed with their grades, they should apply themselves because there’s no shortcuts in life and how he doesn’t go easy on anyone in his classes, regardless of who they might know, because it prepares us for the real world,” Percy sunk more into his seat. “It wasn’t hard to figure out who he was talking about.”

“I’m so sorry that you had to deal with that, Percy,” Paul apologized. “I should have checked your schedule before going to talk to him to make sure I didn’t accidentally antagonize him before your class.”

“Ya, well, “ Percy said, “he’s a jerk so he probably would have said something like that anyway.” Percy looked at Paul. “I’m guessing he told you that he’s not going to follow my IEP?”

“That’s a fairly good summary of how things went,” Paul said.

“There goes my spot on the basketball team,” Percy turned to stare out the window. “So what now?”

Oh no, there was no way Paul was going to let Stephan take that away from Percy.

After playing a few games of Horse back when they were still getting used to each other (though apparently Percy had grown up playing a variant called Hippos), Paul had been surprised to learn that Percy had never been on a school team. He was good at basketball and seemed to enjoy it. So this school year Sally and Paul had encouraged him to try out for Goode’s team, a fun normal high school kid thing to do in the chaos of his demigod life. Percy had been so excited when he had learned that he made the JV team.

But being on academic probation would mean that he couldn’t play. And Paul was certain that Percy wouldn’t be on academic probation if Stephan had just followed his IEP.

“Have you met with your guidance counselor about classes for next semester yet?” Paul asked.

“No,” Paul couldn’t see his face but it sounded like Percy was on the edge of tears.

Nope, that wasn’t okay. No one got to bully his kid to the point of tears. Okay, Percy wasn’t technically his kid, but Paul still wasn’t going to let this go. There were a lot of things that made Percy’s life difficult that Paul couldn’t help with, like the monsters, and the gods, and the titans, and the war. But this, this Paul absolutely could help him out with. And help him he would.

“You have to have a case conference anyway to discuss classes for next semester, right?” After Percy nodded, Paul continued. “You and your mom can bring this up then. Maybe we can get you transferred into another class for the rest of the semester. At least, we can make sure you aren’t in Stephan’s class next semester. In the meantime, your mom and I can talk to the folks in the Resource Center, make them aware of what’s going on. They’re probably wondering why you’re never down there for English tests anyway. And your mom and I can help you out with your homework. Heck, I’ll even read the books to you if that’s what it takes.” Paul started to reach out to give Percy’s shoulder a comforting squeeze, but thought better of it, knowing how jumpy his stepson could be.

“Your mom and I won’t let him fail you, Percy,” Paul continued . “There’s going to be a lot more meetings then you’re going to like, but we’ll work this out. Unfortunately, at this point, it looks like the only way to solve this is to make a fuss about it.”

Percy leaned his head against the car window and made a noise of displeasure.

“I know, kiddo. It’s not what you wanted, “ Paul said. “But, once we explain the situation that you’re in, the Office might make an exception, and they might still let you play.”

“Ya right.” Percy said, voice wavering.

“You might have to miss a few games,” Paul admitted. “But I don’t think this will keep you from playing all season. Just keep going to practice, okay?”

“Fine,” Percy said. “Can we go home now?”

“Ya, ya we can, sport,” Paul said, already planning on how he was going to get Percy some sour strings to snack on later tonight.

*****

Paul wasn’t surprised that he was the last one home today. He’d expected Sally to take Percy home early from school today. He looked into the kitchen to see his wife beaming, looking like a queen returning victorious from a particularly difficult diplomatic meeting, and Percy, who looked exhausted but was faintly smiling, next to her, the both of them chopping veggies for soup.

“Hey, how’d the case conference go?” Paul asked.

“Mom eviscerated Dr. Boring,” Percy said, a touch of awe in his voice.

“I simply explained to him that he’s not allowed to treat you that way,” Sally said.

Paul chuckled, “I think I would have liked to see that.”

“It was awesome,” Percy agreed.

Paul grabbed the big soup pot, put it on the stove, and added some butter. “So you figured out a plan?” he asked.

“Yes,” Sally frowned, tipping the chopped onion into a bowl. “Unfortunately, the school says they can’t change what class Percy’s in now. But they can keep a closer eye on the situation.”

“I have to meet with Ms. Mercia for a progress check every two weeks,” Percy complained.

“That’s so she can check in with you, and make sure Dr. Boring and your other teachers are following your IEP,” Sally said.

“I know,” Percy said, adding his chopped celery to the bowl.

Paul grabbed the bowl and added the veggies to the pot, along with some garlic, herbs, and seasoning.

“And you are going to tell her, or us, or the Resource teachers if Dr. Boring doesn’t follow your IEP, right?” Sally said, pointedly.

“Yes, Mom.”

“No toughing it out.”

“I won’t, Mom.”

“I don’t care what Dr. Boring tells you. You follow your plan.”

“I know, Mom.”

“Good,” Sally kissed the top of Percy’s head. “And you heard the principal. In a few weeks, as long as you’re making good progress, they’ll let you play in basketball games.”

“That’s great news!” Paul said, stirring around the veggies in the pot.

“Ya,” Percy smiled at that. “I’ll work hard.”

“I know, baby,” Sally said, measuring out some rice.

“Anything else?” Paul asked.

“Yes,” Sally said. “They’re going to have one of the resource teachers double check Percy’s grades to make sure that Dr. Boring has been grading him fairly. And,” Sally’s eyes sparkled with amusement, “he’s going to have a different teacher for English next semester.”

“Who?” Paul asked.

“You,” Percy said sheepishly.

Paul looked over at his stepson.

“I mean, if that’s okay,” Percy started. “I mean, I’m cool with it and everyone at school seemed cool with it but I didn’t really ask you so I hope that’s okay with you ‘cause that’s what I picked out for my schedule and—“

“Percy,” Paul interrupted. Percy stopped, clearly waiting to see how Paul would react. “I’m okay with it,” Paul clarified. “In fact, I think it’ll be fun to have you in my class.”

Percy paused, seemingly forgetting the measuring cup he was filling with water. “Wait,” he said, “you’re not going to be an embarrassing parent, are you?”

“Well…” Paul said, with a mischievous smile.

“No!” Percy protested, water overflowing from the cup and onto his hand.

“Percy, the water,” Sally said.

Percy muttered something that must have been a curse considering Sally’s response (“Language.”), but it wasn’t one that Paul had ever heard. Somehow, faster than Paul could see, Percy had filled the pot with water and turned off the faucet.

“Kidding.” Paul admitted.

Percy gave him a look. “Why are you both like this?” he complained.

“Don’t act like you’re not like this too,” Sally said, adding the rice and chicken to the pot.

“Where do you think I get it from?” Percy replied.

Sally and Paul both laughed at that.

“Don’t you have homework, sweetie?” Sally asked, ruffling Percy’s hair.

“Ya, I do. Working hard,” Percy said, before heading to his bedroom, leaving Paul shredding kale and Sally working on her novel.

*****

The next day, Percy came home from school with the audiobook of Fahrenheit 451.

*****

“Paul, a word with you, please?”

Paul sighed. Given how that sounded more like a demand than a request, Paul decided that he probably didn’t want to have a word with Stephan.

“Yes Stephan. What would you like to discuss?” Paul said, trying to be as cordial as possible.

Stephan stepped into Paul’s office, eyes lingering distastefully on the overstuffed bookshelves, the keepsakes from his theater days, and his cup stuffed with colorful pens and a small bi pride flag. Finally he looked at Paul and said, “I don’t appreciate you interfering with how I choose to teach my students.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Paul responded.

“That boy, Mr. Jackson,” Stephan clarified.

“Did the administration finally make you give him his accommodations? Good for them.” Paul gathered some handouts together and stuck them in a folder. “I did tell you that he has a right to them.”

“It is not fair to my other students that he gets to skate by just because his mother is dating a teacher,” Stephan said, accusingly.

Actually, she’s my wife, Paul thought but he wasn’t about to tell his colleague that.

“He’s not skating by because of who his mother is in a relationship with. He’s getting the tools he needs,” Paul corrected. “What wasn’t fair was you denying him that. Now, if you can’t be civil, then I invite you to leave my office. I have a class to prepare for.”

Stephan huffed indignantly and turned to leave.

“Oh, and Stephan,” Paul called out.

Stephan paused in the doorway, glaring.

“Don’t even think about taking out your ire on Percy,” Paul cautioned the man. “He has done nothing wrong.”

*****
“So I think Montag does actually care about Mildred,” Percy explained to Paul. “It’s just that he, like everyone else, has been encouraged to not connect with other people, because you never know who might be a book reading criminal or support the enemy in the war or whatever, and so he doesn't know how to express it.

“That’s why Montag reads the book to Mildred. He’s trying to connect with her, to share this exciting thing with her. But then Mildred freaks out and turns him in, and he realizes that they haven’t really known or cared about each other for a long time.”

Percy looked up from the slinky he was fidgeting with. “Is that right? Does that make sense?” he asked Paul.

“Well, it sounds like you can back up your argument with textual evidence,” Paul said, smiling.

“Gods, that is such an English teacher thing to say,” Percy groaned.

Paul chuckled. “I think you’re doing a good job on your homework without my input.”

Percy put the slinky down, and grabbed his pencil and (light blue) worksheet to start writing, “Alright but if I forget what I said then you’re reminding me.”

*****

Percy hadn’t been anywhere to be found after basketball practice. But Percy’s friend Rachel was.

“He’s off chasing hellhounds,” Rachel explained.

That left Paul wondering how she knew about hellhounds. (Was she a demigod too? Statistically, what were the odds of two demigods attending the same school?) When he called Sally she hadn’t seemed surprised.

“Oh just come home, Paul,” she said. “He’ll either make his way here or to Camp and we’ll know soon enough.”

Which left Paul and Sally alone in their apartment, waiting.

The latch of the door clicked open and…

“Mom! Paul!” Percy cried out. He bounded into the living room, covered in dust, practically bouncing with excitement. “Guess what! Ms. Mercia says I’m doing well enough to play during the next game!”

Sally set her laptop to the side, stood up and hugged her son, “Oh Percy! That’s wonderful!”

Paul patted him on the shoulder, “I knew you could do it, kiddo!”

Percy beamed at them, while Sally tried to brush some of the dust off of her son. Then Percy’s expression suddenly changed to mild shock.

“Oh shoot,” he said. “That means I have a game on Wednesday.”

“We’ll be sure to be there, sweetie,” Sally reassured him. “Now let’s get you some dinner.”

*****
Paul had never been to one of Goode’s basketball games but he certainly had fun cheering alongside Sally as Percy and his teammates ran back and forth across the court. They didn’t win but that didn’t really matter.

After the game, Percy came running up to them in his purple and white uniform, backpack slung over his shoulder, and the biggest grin on his face.

“I scored some points!” Percy said.

“Great shooting, sport,” Paul said, matching Percy’s smile.

“And… Look what we got you at the concession stand,” Sally said, before holding a package out to him.

“Blue raspberry sour strings!” Percy exclaimed. “You two are the best!”

Ya, this definitely made putting up with Stephan worth it.

Chapter Text

It was a quiet and peaceful morning. Paul fried up some eggs while Sally cut up some fruit for breakfast. The midmorning weekend traffic honked and rushed below their apartment. The water in the kettle softly burbled away, heating up for Sally’s tea and Paul’s coffee. Like it was just another ordinary summer morning in the Jackson-Blofis household.

As Paul served up the eggs on the plates waiting nearby, he concluded that he couldn’t decide what felt more unreal: this quiet, regular morning or the Mist-veiled battlefield he and his wife had woken up in yesterday. Paul sighed and rubbed tiredly at his face. God (or Gods? Definitely gods. This was their fault) that had only been yesterday.

Paul had been driving him and Sally towards the Empire State Building as fast as New York traffic would allow. Sally had seen something, blue flickering lights surrounding the top of the iconic skyscraper. Whatever it was, Percy was clearly involved. And really, what kind of parents would they be if they just let their son and his friends face the kind of dangers that gave the gods nightmares alone when they were two adults available and willing to help out in whatever small way they could? If these children could face it, then so could they.
They were almost there when they fell asleep. By some miracle, Paul hadn’t crashed the car as a result of this impromptu nap. The next thing Paul knew, he and Sally were waking up on a different street then they’d fallen asleep on, covered in safety glass from the smashed in driver’s side window. And all hell was breaking loose around them.

Tourists and New Yorkers were running around chased by motorcyclists wielding baseball bats, garbage trucks, police officers, and what looked like a whole troop of theater kids in prop armor. The armies of Olympus and Othrys no doubt, demigods and monsters shielded from Paul’s eyes by the Mist. It was chaos and violence and panic, people being shoved and trampled and crushed. How much worse must the reality have been to Sally and Percy who could see so much more than he could?

Percy, who was standing just down the road from where Paul and Sally were, covered in dirt and looking exhausted, guarding the doors to the Empire State building with a (prop? No, that’s not right) sword in hand. He was clearly terrified, his eyes pleading with them to run away.

“Well, how bad is it?” Paul had asked his wife.

“Bad,” Sally had responded, “but we can’t leave these kids to die alone.”

“Right,” Paul had swallowed hard. “Let’s go protect our kid.”

In the following hours, Paul had become so grateful for the fact that all but one of Shakespeare’s plays contained sword fights. He hacked and slashed at the people/things that Sally had pointed out to him, while she used her borrowed shotgun to knock the larger threats off balance.

Then the crowds had thinned out. The screaming and fighting and panic had quieted, until the groans of the wounded and the dying could be heard. The Empire State Building lit up blue, and Paul and Sally made their way inside to wait for Percy. Eventually, Sally had gotten fed up with waiting to see if her son was okay and had started arguing with the security guard, demanding that they be let into Olympus to find Percy. Paul had been ready to back her up (even if he was still trying to figure out how you got from a skyscraper to a magic invisible floating mountain) when Percy and Annabeth walked out of the elevator like it was the most normal thing in the world.

But the life of a demigod was never peaceful, and their reunion had been cut short as Percy and Annabeth had to race out to Camp.

But they were alive. They were safe. That’s what really mattered.

Sally and Paul had made their way back to the Prius, back to home. Their son was safe; the battle was over. What else was there for them to do?

It was only once they had gotten back to their apartment that they had learned that it was August 18th. They had been asleep in the car for days.

And now… Now it was August 19th. Just a regular weekend morning as if the world had missed that something had happened yesterday.

They were part way through breakfast when they heard someone open the front door of their apartment. “Mom! Paul!” Percy’s voice cried out. “You here?”

Paul and Sally rushed to the entryway. Sally engulfed her son in a hug which he gladly returned.

“Oh Percy, baby,” she said.

“I know, Mom. Oh thank the gods you’re safe,” Percy said, before reaching out an arm to grab Paul. “Come here. I want a hug from you too.”

“Well, if you insist,” Paul said, joining the two Jacksons in their embrace.

They stayed like that for a bit, arms around each other, taking in the simple pleasure of each other’s presence before Sally said, “Happy birthday, sweetie.”

Percy pulled back, looking confused, “What?”

“It was your sixteenth birthday yesterday, right kiddo?” Paul said. “At least, I think it was. The past few days have been… confusing.”

“Um ya,” Percy said, his confusion seeming to ebb away. “That’s– that’s not why I came here though.”

Sally brushed some hair out of Percy’s eyes. “Not ready to celebrate yet, sweetie?”

Percy shook his head, looking away from them. “No. Maybe… maybe later. There’s still so much to do.”

Despite looking like a hero of myth yesterday, Percy looked every inch of a sixteen-year-old kid today. Paul placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and gave a small squeeze. “That’s okay, sport. Let us know when you are ready to celebrate,” Paul said.

“Now,” Sally started, “why are you here, sweetie? Because you certainly don’t look like you’re ready to come home for the school year.”

“I just…” Percy started, anxiously tapping his fists together. He kept glancing at them and then looking away just as quickly. “I just had to make sure you got home okay. And I had to warn you,”

Paul and Sally shared a look. That sure sounded ominous.

“Warn us about what, kiddo?” Paul asked. Please don’t let it be more titans or gods or prophecies or war. Please let it be over. Please let us be safe.

“About all the stuff we have to clean up,” Percy said. He laughed anxiously and then continued, “I mean, we turned all of Manhattan into a battlefield. We dismantled the subway system. Every way into Manhattan is booby trapped as are several major transit points and other places of strategic relevance. And that’s not even getting into the structural damage we caused to buildings, roads, bridges… We functionally turned the island into a minefield.” Percy looked at them, pleadingly, “Please just stay in the apartment until we clear the island. I don’t want you to get hurt by the defenses we left behind.”

“When you say functionally a minefield…” Sally started.

“I mean, there’s some actual landmines buried out there,” Percy clarified, deadly serious. “Along with a whole host of other explosives, spike pits, razor wire, whatever nasty surprises we could think up that might slow an invading army down. We’re trying to clear it as fast as possible to minimize civilian casualties but it’s going to take some time. We can leave most of the structural damage to the local authorities, but the rest we have to do. And unfortunately, we suffered massive casualties so we had less people who can clear the island so–”

Sally cut Percy off with a hug. “Oh baby,” she said, before kissing his temple.

Percy didn’t return the hug, just glanced between his mom and Paul with confusion. Paul understood Sally’s meaning however. He’d seen the unconscious shift in Percy. The longer he talked the less he was a teenager worried about his parents and the more he was a military commander discussing how his unit was going to return an occupied city to a civilian population.

And that was the terrible truth. Percy was a military commander at sixteen, and he was good at it. It made Paul’s heart clench to think about how Percy had been robbed of his childhood, made into a good soldier, and how, at least in the moment, he couldn’t see the tragedy in that fact.

Paul tried to give Percy a supportive smile. “Sounds like you kids have a lot of work cut out for you.”

“Ya,” Percy said, looking tired. “We got the wounded and our dead back to Camp yesterday. We’re clearing the island today. And then we also have to collect spoils of war, build trophies-”

Paul wasn’t quite sure what “building trophies” meant but that wasn’t what startled him the most. “Your dead,” he repeated with horror. Paul logically knew that people dying was the reality of war, but it was another thing to hear Percy say it.

“Ya,” Percy said. “We had to get them home. We had to give them a proper funeral.They were our friends. This is the last thing we could do for them. We searched until we found them all. I even got Michael out of the river–”

Sally squeezed Percy harder, “Oh baby…”

Paul rejoined their hug, “Percy…”

“Mom? Paul?” Percy asked, but Sally and Paul just held their son for a while.

Percy was sixteen. He shouldn’t know what it was like to search for his friends’ bodies, to retrieve them, to bury them. He was sixteen and he had already had to pull one of his friends’ bodies from a river. He was sixteen and he had already had to lead children his own age or younger to war, to watch them die.

Paul would never forgive the Olympians for putting his stepson through that.

“We did that right thing, right?” Percy asked, his voice wavering, on the edge of crying. “We brought them home. We cleaned them. We buried them.”

“You did the best thing you could do for them, sweetie,” Sally said, her voice wavery too.

“You brought your friends home, kiddo. You cared for them,” Paul reassured Percy, trying not to cry too.

That lasted until Percy started sobbing. Then Paul and Sally did the only thing they could do. They held their son and shared his pain.

Chapter Text

Paul knocked on his stepson’s door and waited ‘til he heard a tired, “Hmm?” to ask, “Hey Percy, can I come in?”

“Sure,” came an exhausted voice from the other side of the door.

Paul stuck his head in the door to check on his stepson. Percy’s room was its usual level of mess, skateboard and shield lying on the floor next to his backpack, jackets and hoodies draped over the back of his chair, a mix of necessary items and random odds and ends covered his dresser, bed unmade, random papers, books and writing utensils scattered over the floor. But at least it looked like most of his dirty clothes and weapons had made it into his closet.

Percy himself sat at his desk, his head laying on one of his arms while he used his other hand to gently push a marble around. His eyes might have been watching the marble, but he could just as well have been staring off into space. If Paul had to guess, he figured Percy had probably been sitting like that for about an hour or so. At least, that’s how long it had been since either Paul or Sally had heard the floorboards creak from the direction of Percy’s room.

“Hey kiddo,” Paul said, “you want to help me make pasta?”

Percy raised his head to look at Paul, “Pasta?”

“Yes, for dinner tonight,” Paul said. “I finally got the recipe from my sister, and I thought you might enjoy figuring it out with me.”

Paul thought Percy might decline. Percy had really been struggling since returning home from being kidnapped and forced to fight in another war. And while therapy was definitely helping and he was getting better with the basic things-you-have-to-do-to-live, like sleeping and eating, Percy was still struggling with figuring out how to do the things-that-make-life-worth-living.

Usually when pressed, he’d explain that he was tired (which was almost certainly true), but Paul and Sally had both seen Percy make a move to start doing something, only to stop and pull back, as if he’d hit a glass wall separating him from the rest of the world. The two of them kept offering to do various activities with him, hoping that having someone else there might make it easier for him to work his way past whatever barrier he was struggling with. More often than not he didn’t take them up on it, but he always seemed to feel better when he did.

Today must have been a good day, because Percy pushed himself up with a, “Sure, why not?”

Paul let Percy slowly shuffle to the kitchen ahead of him. He paused in the kitchen doorway, looking over into the living room.
“Where’d mom go?” Percy asked.

“She ran to the corner store,” Paul explained, getting the stuff to wipe down the table. He nudged Percy towards the sink to wash his hands. “We forgot to grab some herbs we’d run out of last time we went grocery shopping. She’s picking them up so we can make the sauce.”

“Oh,” Percy said. He looked around the kitchen like he wasn’t sure what to do next. “So pasta?”

“Yes,” Paul said, washing his own hands. “It sounded good for dinner. Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve had fresh pasta, and your mom says that the two of you have never had it. So I asked my sister if she had the recipe so we could try it.”

“Fresh pasta? Like from scratch?” Percy asked. He gave Paul a look that was a mixture of confused and half-awake. It was a fairly common look for Percy these days. He spent most of his days looking like everything exhausted him and like he couldn’t figure out how to connect with the rest of the world around him.

Then again, he had just survived almost a year’s worth of things that would traumatize anyone, let alone a teenager. The fatigue, slight apathy, and disconnection were to be expected. Paul tried to remind himself that recovery was often a long process and that Percy was improving. That didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt to see his stepson hurting like this.

“Yes, from scratch,” Paul clarified, handing Percy an apron before putting on his own. “I promise it’s easier than it sounds.”

Percy tied the apron around himself, “I don’t know. Pasta from a box is pretty easy.”

“Maybe, but it’s not as good,” Paul said. “You still up for this, sport?”

“Already cleaned up. Might as well,” Percy said.

“Want to grab the eggs then, kiddo?” Paul asked. “I’ll grab the recipe and flour.”

“So that’s all pasta is?” Percy asked, grabbing the egg carton from the fridge. “Just eggs and flour?”

“Well, there’s some salt and olive oil too, but yes,” Paul said, grabbing two bowls.

“Huh, kinda like flatbreads then. ‘Though those have yogurt instead of eggs,” Percy looked at Paul. “So what now?”

“Now we separate nine eggs,” Paul responded.

“Nine!” Percy said.

“Yes, nine,” Paul said, trying not to laugh at the incredulous expression on his stepson’s face. At least, he’d somewhat gotten Percy out of the funk he’d been in. Paul knew it was probably temporary, but it was good to see that Percy was feeling something different for a change.

“Alright,” Percy said, picking up an egg and carefully cracking it. Paul got to separating his own egg. After a few eggs had been separated Percy said, “So your sister’s recipe, huh?”

“Caroline didn’t write it,” Paul clarified. “I just figured she might have a copy.”

“She’s the one you and mom invited to the wedding, right?” Percy asked. “The one who couldn’t come?”

“Yes,” Paul said. His and Sally’s wedding had been small, just them, Percy, and a few of their friends. But it had been a wonderful night that Paul wouldn’t change for anything, even if he did wish his younger sister could have made it.

“Why couldn’t she come again?” Percy asked, dropping another egg yolk into the bowl.

“She was out of the country,” Paul explained. “She works with Doctors without Borders.”

“Oh fancy,” Percy said. “Ya, I suppose that’s a good reason. Also, explains why I haven’t met her yet.”

“Well, hopefully the two of you get a break from saving people for a while so you can get a chance to meet,” Paul said, tipping the last egg yolk into the bowl. “She’d like to meet you, when you’re up for it.”

“Ya, okay,” Percy muttered, watching Paul measure out the flour into a heap on the table. “So, why’d you think she’d have a pasta recipe? Does your sister make a lot of pasta?”

“Oh, no. She says she never has time,” Paul explained, making a well in the flour. “But our mother still talks to her, so I figured Caroline might be able to get the pasta recipe out of her for me. Pour the egg yolks in there for me, will you?”

Percy did as he was asked, scrunching up his face in confusion. “Your mom?” he asked. “You’ve never mentioned her.”

“I know,” Paul said, mixing the flour and egg yolks together with a fork.

Percy studied him, clearly trying to figure something out. “You don’t talk much about your family,” he finally settled on.

“Well, I’m not on speaking terms with most of them,” Paul gave Percy a weary smile. “You want to help knead this?”

They split the half formed dough and began kneading.

“Why not?” Percy asked.

“My mother,” Paul responded. “She’s a proud Catholic woman who didn’t take too kindly to finding out that her youngest son was bisexual.”

“You’re bi?” Percy blurted out. “Did I know that? Nevermind, that’s not important. What the fuck! She stopped talking to you because you’re bi?”

Paul chuckled a bit at his stepson’s reaction, “I think I might have mentioned it once before, but I’m not surprised that you don’t remember. Not exactly something I’ve talked about with you a lot. Also, don’t think your mom would like you using that kind of language very much, even if it is accurate.”

“It’s not even that bad of a curse. I know way worse ones,” Percy argued.

“I know,” Paul said “which is why I won’t tell your mom. Just try not to make it too much of a habit, okay?”

“Okay,” Percy focussed on kneading his dough for a bit before asking, “But seriously, your mom stopped talking to you because you’re bi?”

Paul sighed, “Yes. She disowned me, and my older siblings followed suit. She even tried to get me fired from the school I was working at at the time. She didn’t succeed, but I resigned and started working at Goode at the end of that school year.”

“That’s so messed up,” Percy said.

“What’s so messed up?” Sally asked, closing the apartment door behind her. She set the herbs down on the counter, and kissed the side of Percy’s head (probably because she could no longer reach the top of his head when he was standing.) “What are you two boys up to?” she said before giving Paul a peck on the cheek.

Percy gave Paul a look before answering, “Making pasta.”

“And I was explaining to Percy how my mother disowned me for being bisexual,” Paul explained. “I think we can wrap up this dough and let it rest now. You want to get the plastic wrap?” he asked Percy.

“Ah,” Sally said dryly. Paul wasn’t surprised. When he had first explained his whole family situation to Sally, she had had some very choice comments about his mother and older siblings’ behavior. “So Percy understands the situation well.”

“You mean, that it’s messed up? Ya,” Percy said, returning with the plastic wrap.

“Well, it’s not something that you have to worry about your mom or I doing to you, sport,” Paul said, tearing off two sheets of plastic wrap.

“We love you, baby,” Sally said, giving Percy another forehead kiss.

“I know,” Percy said, smiling at them. “I don’t think I have to worry about that from dad’s side of the family either. Pretty sure all of them are bi or whatever the opposite of bi is. Can’t be bothered?”

“Ah, I think the words you’re looking for are asexual and aromantic,” Paul said. “And yes, that sounds about right.”

“Now,” Sally said. “Do you want to help us make the sauce for dinner, or do you want to go rest, baby?”

“Eh, I’ve already got an apron on and I’m kinda invested now, so dinner, I guess,” Percy said.

“Alright,” Paul said, “But you let us know if you want to do something else, okay. Dinner’s our responsibility, kiddo.”

“Ya, I know,” Percy said. “But this is kinda nice. Doing family stuff.”

“That it is, sweetie,” Sally said. Once Percy’s back was turned, she mouthed, “Thank you,” at Paul. And Paul didn’t mind. Anything to get Percy up and acting more like his usual self again.

Chapter Text

So Paul was still getting used to the whole “his wife dated a Greek God for a few months when she was eighteen and now he has a teenaged demigod stepson” thing.

“Getting used to” probably wasn’t the right phase. “Constantly learning about” was probably better. It made sense after all that Percy and Sally hadn’t been able to fit in every detail of the mythical world into their explanation of the existence of the mythical world.

So Paul was learning to live with them constantly dropping some new fact about gods and monsters and demigods as if it were the most normal thing in the world. (Which he supposed it was for them, but that didn’t make it any less jarring for him to learn the donut chain he used to stop by in college was linked to the life force of an Ancient Greek monster, for example.)

However, none of their odd anecdotes or facts prepared Paul for his new stepson coming home from school one day with a nasty cut on his arm. Or the fact that apparently his new wife knew enough first aid to be able to handle it.

Percy had stumbled into their apartment looking wane, clutching his arm and covered in blood. Paul, of course, had instantly voiced his opinion that Percy should be taken to the hospital. Both of the Jacksons had shot that idea down. Sally pulled her son to the bathroom, while explaining that they could take care of it. Percy mumbled something about how the hospital couldn’t help with the poison, before debating with himself about the difference between poison and venom.

In the end, the best Paul could do to help was bring Percy a pop to sip and finish cooking dinner.

Percy had crashed on the couch after dinner, sweating, shivering, and still looking wane.

“Did he tell you what happened?” Paul asked, drawing a blanket over his stepson.

Sally laid a wet washcloth on Percy’s forehead, “He got attacked by a draceana on his way home from school. Apparently, they like to coat their blades in poison.”

“A what?” Paul asked.

“Snake woman,” Sally clarified.

“Oh,” Paul shifted. “Does this happen a lot? Percy getting attacked?”

“Unfortunately,” Sally said, resting the back of her hand on her son’s cheek. “Attracting monsters is part of being a demigod. And it’s even worse for Percy because of who his father is.” She frowned, “I don’t like how warm he feels.”

Paul watched Percy huddle under his blanket as if he couldn’t get warm. “We could still take him to the hospital,” he offered.

“They’d just be able to help with the blood loss, not the poison,” Sally said. “And they’d ask too many questions we can’t answer anyway.”

“You sure he’ll be okay?” Paul asked, feeling very much out of his depth here.

Sally worried at her lip, “He should be. We stopped the bleeding, closed up the wound, gave him some antidote. I’m going to try to get some ibuprofen into him tonight. He’s just going to have a rough few days.”

“We’re going to have to call him in sick for school, aren’t we?” Paul said.

“Yes,” Sally said.

“I can stay home from work and watch him,” Paul offered. “I have plenty of PTO.” Then he quickly added, “Uh…if that’s okay with you?”

“I’m okay with it. It’d be better if we use PTO or sick leave and I don’t have much racked up yet,” Sally carded her fingers through Percy’s hair. “I’ll ask Percy how he feels about it when I get him some more meds.”

“Okay, just let me know what the plan is,” Paul said, watching Percy shiver some more. “I don’t like the idea of him staying home alone like this.”

“Me neither,” Sally sighed. “Me neither.”

*****

At least, Sally hadn’t needed to disturb her son’s rest to try to get him to take some medicine. Unfortunately, that’s because his sleep was interrupted by his stomach deciding that actually lasagna was poison that should be forcibly removed from his body at once.

One good thing about living in an apartment was that the distance between anywhere and the toilet was short.

Sally set down a mug on the bathroom counter before sinking down to the floor next to her son. She rubbed comforting circles into his back as he heaved and wretched.

Once it seemed like the heaving had subsided, she said, “Hey baby. I brought you some ginger tea.”

“Thanks,” Percy braced himself against the toilet bowl with one arm, his injured one hanging uselessly by his side.

“Think your stomach’s settled enough to try drinking it?” Sally asked, brushing his bangs out his face. His skin still felt too warm for her liking and the vomiting was a concerning development. I really need to ask Chiron for a list of all mythical poisons and venoms, Sally thought.

Percy spit into the toilet, “Maybe?”

“You want to try it, sweetie?” Sally said, carting her fingers through his hair. “I really don’t want you to get dehydrated or hyponatremic. Then we would have to take you to the hospital.”

“Ya, I can try,” Percy pushed himself away from the toilet so he could rest against the side of the tub. He winced as the movement jostled his injured arm.

Sally waited until her son got himself settled before reaching up to get the mug. “Are you sure you don’t want a sling for your arm?” she asked, passing her son the mug. “I know it won’t take the weight off your wound but it might help keep you from jostling it too much.”

Percy took a small sip from his mug, “I guess. It can’t hurt anyway.”

“Okay baby. I’ll grab a scarf. But first…” Satisfied that the tea wasn’t going to immediately make her son throw up some more, Sally stood and opened the medicine cabinet. She pulled out a thermometer and a bottle of ibuprofen.

Percy whined a bit as she stuck the thermometer in his ear, but he must have been feeling pretty bad because he didn’t try to argue that he was fine or otherwise wiggle out of it. Just sipped his tea and made his displeasure known.

“I know, baby, but your temperature worries me,” Sally consoled. She read the thermometer, “And for good reason. 101.2. Between this and the throwing up, there is no way I am letting you go to school tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Percy sighed. “We’ve got pretzels and rice and ginger, right? I’ll take it easy tomorrow.”

“Yes, you will,” Sally said, settling down on the edge of the tub next to her son. “Because I am not letting you stay home alone like this. Either Paul or I is staying home with you. Your choice.”

“Mom, I’m fifteen. I think I can-“ Percy started to argue, before quickly cutting himself off, looking like he was struggling to keep his stomach contents in his stomach.

“You need me to take the mug, sweetie?” Sally asked.

Percy gave the slightest shake of his head, and Sally ran her fingers through her son’s hair while he fought down his nausea.

“Okay,” Percy finally said. “Ya, okay. Maybe I shouldn’t be home alone.”

“Mmhmm,” Sally said. “Now who do you want to stay with you?”

“What about your jobs?” Percy asked. “I mean, you just started your new job and Paul has class.”

“I think my boss will be understanding if I need to take time off to take care of my sick kid,” Sally reassured him. “And Paul has PTO that he can use and he can get a substitute. Percy, we’ll be fine no matter what you choose. Don’t worry about it, sweetie.”

Percy sat quietly for a few minutes, either brave enough or fidgety enough to start sipping his tea again. Finally he said, “I can stay with Paul. At least, assuming he isn’t completely weirded out by magic potions and monsters.”

“I think he can manage, sweetie,” Sally said. She kissed the top of her son’s head. “And my cell number is by the phone if either of you needs me. Now,” She ruffled Percy’s hair. “I’m going to go get a scarf for your sling. Then, when you’re feeling up to it, we’re going to get some pretzels and ibuprofen into you. I don’t want you going back to bed without some food and meds.”

“Okay Mom.”

“Good,” Sally gave Percy’s hair one last ruffle before getting up to get a scarf and tell Paul the plan.

*****

Yes, Paul was a bit nervous. He figured that anyone who was solely entrusted to take care of their sick stepchild for the first time probably would be. Adding on the whole “actually said stepchild was poisoned by a mythological creature using a poison unknown to modern medicine and also said stepchild wasn’t completely human” made this a whole new flavor of complicated.

But he could do this. He had listened carefully to Sally’s explanations and instructions the night before and again this morning. He knew where Percy’s first aid kit was, he had written down Sally’s instructions on how to figure out the dosages of magical medicine, and knew what symptoms to look out for that meant Percy actually had to go to the hospital. The rest was just how one should take care of anyone who was sick/injured.

And that, Paul figured he could do. So he reassured Sally that he had it covered while she got ready for work that morning and promised to call her the second that anything went south or was beyond his understanding.

Paul had already started the rice cooker and heated water for tea by the time he started hearing noises from the direction of his step son’s bedroom. He was determined to, well at least do his best to take care of his half-human step son. In the meantime, he could wait, reading the news and nursing his cup of coffee.

The teen in question stumbled into the kitchen, right arm in a makeshift sling with a bandage peeking out from between the scarf and his pj sleeve, bowl cradled in his good arm, looking pale and feverish and half-awake.

“Hey sport,” Paul greeted. “Why don’t you sit down? The rice should be ready in a few minutes.”

Percy grumbled something and sat down at the kitchen table. He sent his bowl down and rested his head on the table’s surface, good arm acting as both a shield and a pillow.

“How you feeling, sport?” Paul asked, looking at his stepson with concern.

“Awful,” Percy said into the table. “Cold. Head’s fuzzy. Everything hurts. Feel like ‘m gonna puke.”

“Ya, that sounds pretty awful,” Paul agreed. “Do you think you could keep some medicine down?”

Percy turned his head to look at Paul, squinting his eyes like he was having trouble focusing. “Have ta try, don’t I?”

“How about you try some food first?” Paul suggested. “And if you manage to keep that down, then we’ll try some medicine.”

“Okay,” Percy said.

“But first…” Paul began, grabbing something from a box on the counter.

“Ohhh,” Percy complained “You’re going to stick that thing in my ear.”

“We need to keep an eye on your temperature, kiddo,” Paul explained. “May I?”

“Ya,” Percy sighed. “I guess you have to. But I’m not movin’.”

“I’ll try to be quick,” Paul said. He brushed some of Percy’s hair away from his ear, which caused his stepson to tense slightly before relaxing again. Paul carefully put the end of the thermometer in Percy’s ear, trying to both be as gentle as possible and to touch Percy as little as possible. He didn’t want to add to Percy’s obvious discomfort.

“There. All done,” Paul said, once the thermometer beeped. Behind him the rice cooker beeped as well. “Just in time for you to have some breakfast too. I’ll get you some food.”

“Water too?” Percy asked. “And cinnamon sugar?”

“Of course,” Paul responded, putting the thermometer back in the first aid kit and moving to grab a bowl.

“How bad is it?” Percy mumbled from the table.

“Your temperature?” Paul asked, dishing out some rice. After he heard a small sound of what he assumed was confirmation, he continued, “It’s at 100.6, kiddo.”

“So lower than yesterday,” Percy said. Paul watched out of the corner of his eye as his stepson pushed himself up right. Percy swayed a bit and gripped the edge of the table hard with his good hand, though Paul couldn’t tell if it was out of general weakness, nausea, or a combination thereof. After a moment, Percy seemed to steady himself and let go of the table. He started picking at the edges of his sling.

Paul set a glass of water and a small bowl of cinnamon sugar rice in front of Percy, before returning to his mug of coffee. “Your arm bugging you?” he asked.

Percy stopped fiddling with his sling and picked up his spoon with his left hand. “More that I can’t use it,” he explained, poking at his rice a bit. “I mean, I could, but it’d hurt a lot.” Percy tentatively scooped up some rice and ate it.

“Would painkillers help?” Paul asked.

Percy started to shake his head, before reaching up to grab his head. Unfortunately, he also succeeded in hitting himself in the face with his spoon.

“Are you okay?” Paul asked, trying to gauge if Percy needed more medical attention.

“Bad idea,” Percy mumbled. “Hate venom. Hate only having one arm.” Percy took a breath as if steeling himself and said, “I’ll be fine.”

Paul kept an eye on Percy, only relaxing when his stepson started eating his rice again. He took a sip of his coffee and then said, “Painkillers might not help with using your arm, but they might make you more comfortable. Plus, ibuprofen will also help with your fever. And your mom said it was safe for you to take that with your more… magical medicine anyway.”

Percy snorted at the description, but honestly, Paul didn’t know how else to describe much of the contents of Percy’s first aid kit.

The box itself was covered in blue sharpie drawings that Paul suspected Percy did himself to distinguish it from the family’s regular first aid kit. Inside it had the regular supplies one would expect to find, along with a suture kit, a lot of burn care gel pads (did Percy get burned frequently or was he more susceptible to burning?), and a number of bottles and bags filled with tablets, capsules, liquids, salves, and what looked to be lemon bars. Each one was labeled neatly in Greek and (thank goodness) English. Paul had poked through some of them earlier but he still had no clue what you might use dittany extract or yarrow paste for, and figured he probably should just stick to the things that Sally had explained to him. He didn’t want to accidentally turn his stepson into a lizard or poison him or something.

After Percy had finished his rice and Paul had finished his coffee, Paul asked, “You think your stomach’s settled enough for you to take some medicine, kiddo?”

“I don’t think I’m going to puke up my breakfast, if that’s what you’re asking,” Percy replied, nudging his empty bowl away to rest his head on the table once more.

“Then let’s try to get some medicine in you, and then you can go rest, okay sport?” Paul said, gathering the dishes from breakfast and putting them in the sink to clean later.

Percy hummed in response, while Paul gathered a bottle of ibuprofen, the bag of lemon bar-looking things (it was labeled “ambrosia” but surely that was a mistranslation), the bottle labeled “draceana antivenom A” (did he want to know what was in there?), and a plastic syringe.

Paul set the medicine down gently by his stepson’s head. “Hey,” he said softly, “I’ve got your medicine.”

Percy sighed, and pushed himself up right, a bit steadier than before.

Paul popped the top off of the ibuprofen bottle before passing it to Percy, along with the lemon bars, “Your mom said I should make sure you have some of this, but that I should let you handle the dosage.”

Percy smiled at that, pouring some tablets into his palm. “Ya, wouldn’t want either of us to burn up, huh?” he said, before swallowing down the medicine, some water, and a corner of a lemon bar.

“What?” Paul stopped, concerned, pausing in his measuring of the antivenom.

Percy flipped the bag so the label faced Paul. “Ambrosia, the food of the gods,” Percy explained. “Apparently, it burns mortals up, literally. If you had some, you’d be dead. Because I’m part god, small amounts can heal me. But at the end of the day, I’m still mortal so…”

Paul took a steadying breath, trying to process that new bit of information. Percy and Sally just causally had the food of the gods lying around. And Percy, his stepson, had just eaten some because he wasn’t entirely human; he was part god. That meant the cantine he’d saw labeled “nectar” was really…

Paul went back to drawing antivenom into the syringe. “It’s probably best if you handle that one then.”

Percy gave a small huff of amusement, but he quickly made a face when Paul offered him the syringe. “Hate this stuff,” Percy muttered. “It’s nasty.” Then he stuck the end in his mouth, and pushed the plunger on the syringe, swallowing down the contents as quickly as possible.

“Yuck,” he said, still making faces as Paul chuckled and took the syringe from him.

“Alright, now that that’s done,” Paul said, “let’s get you somewhere more comfortable so you can rest. Do you want to bring the bowl with you?”

Percy looked at the large plastic bowl he had brought with him from his bedroom. “Probably should,” he muttered. “At least until I’m sure I’m not going to puke.”

“Okay then. You need help getting up?” Paul asked, grabbing the bowl.

“Nah,” Percy said, using his good hand to push himself to his feet. He padded out of the kitchen, hand trailing on the wall for support, Paul following closely behind, before flopping on the end of the couch. Percy shivered and grabbed a blanket, settling in as best he could.

“Comfortable?” Paul asked, placing the bowl on the end table next to Percy.

“Mm-hmm,” Percy hummed, eyes already closing.

Paul went back to the kitchen, refilled Percy’s water glass, and put some pretzels in a bowl. Then he took them out and set those next to Percy as well. “In case you need it later,” he explained when Percy opened his eyes, questioningly.

“Hmm,” Percy said, and settled back down again.

Paul smiled, and went to clean up the breakfast dishes and the medicine. He was pretty sure he could still handle this.

*****

When Percy woke, Paul was sitting on the couch next to him, staring intently at the homework he was grading.

He felt, well… still not great. The cut on his right arm burned like a hot wire pressed into his skin. His joints felt achy and stiff as if someone had filled them with slowing curing cement. Even though he slept for who knows how long (and just after waking up too), he still felt like he’d been lugging around weapons to sharpen for hours. And if his brain really was made of seaweed like Annabeth loved to claim then all that kelp, oarweed, and bladderwrack was taking up all the space in his head where the thoughts should be.

But he didn’t feel as feverish. Or like he was going to puke his guts up. Progress.

He shifted in his blanket cocoon and groaned, trying to reposition himself so that his left arm could get better leverage.

Paul looked over at him, “Hey sport. Have a nice nap?”

Percy having finally freed his left arm, he rubbed at his eyes. “Ya. What time is it?”

Paul glanced at his watch, “One thirty-ish. Do you feel like you could do some lunch or–”

Percy’s stomach decided to answer that with a loud growl.

Paul smiled, “Hungry?”

“Ya,” Percy answered sheepishly. And, because he was feeling brave and apparently wanted to test how likely it was that he would puke his guts up, he asked, “Can I try some real food?”

Paul studied him. He looked concerned but offered, “I believe we still have some leftover ginger chicken. That should be easier on your stomach.”

“Sounds good to me,” Percy said, trying to detangle himself some more so he could get up, a task made more difficult due to him only having one working arm.

Paul stood and held out a hand, motioning Percy to stay down. “Rest,” he said. “I’ll heat it up and bring it out here for you.

“Okay,” Percy said, settling back down into his blanket cocoon. He listened while Paul moved around in the kitchen, the low hum of the microwave starting up.

It was kinda odd missing school because he got injured in a fight. Like sure, he absolutely needed it but still… School felt like one of those things that he couldn’t skip for some demigod nonsense. Or at least not a whole day. Part of a day so he could help Clarisse track down a chariot, sure. But he’d never had to miss a whole day before.

And based on how he still felt, Percy wouldn’t be surprised if his mom insisted on longer than that.

In a few moments, Percy heard a short beep and click, and Paul reappeared holding a bowl resting in a hot pad, and his mom’s lap desk tucked under the other arm.

“I thought this might help,” Paul explained as he set up the lap desk and set Percy’s lunch on top.

“Thanks,” Percy said, something feeling oddly warm in his chest at Paul’s gesture. Though maybe that was just the poison. “Definitely better than trying to balance a bowl and eat one handed.”

“Especially with your non-dominant hand,” Paul said, settling down next to Percy.

“Nah, that doesn’t matter much,” Percy said, grabbing the spoon and starting in on his lunch. Paul gave him a questioning look, so Percy explained, “Not the first time I’ve injured my right arm. Heck, not even the first time I’ve had a seriously poisoned wound on my right arm. After a few times, you learn to be ambidextrous.”

Percy kept eating, though after a few moments of silence he looked over to see his stepfather giving him a look that was somewhere between startled and sad. The look had become somewhat common on Paul’s face ever since he had learned about all the gods and monsters and titans, oh my! Percy was getting used to it appearing just about every time he or his mom explained some new detail of the mythological world to Paul.

“Too much?” Percy asked before spooning another bite of lunch into his mouth.

“I…” Paul began before turning back to the homeworks he was grading. He shuffled some papers around and cleared his throat before continuing, “I wish you hadn’t been hurt enough to learn that.”

Percy poked at his lunch, not entirely sure what to do with that statement. After all, Percy was a demigod. Getting injured badly and often was kinda part of the gig. There was no other option but for it to be normal. Percy had learned to live with that, even if it majorly sucked.

He definitely wasn’t used to adults caring that he got hurt all the time. The only two who usually did were his mom and Chiron, and both of them were used to the realities of the mythological enough to know how to live despite the horrors instead of dwelling on them.

But Paul was still new to this. And he was worried about Percy, a realization that fed the warm feeling in Percy’s chest, even if it still felt new and uncomfortable.

Percy wasn’t used to having anyone but his mom fuss over him, but he had to admit that this was… kinda nice?

Percy must have been quiet for too long, because Paul asked, “Stomach bothering you again? I can go make some ginger tea if you’d like.”

“No, I’m fine,” Percy said, digging back into his lunch.

Paul looked him up and down, but replied, “Alright. But if you need anything, let me know, okay sport?” Paul picked up his pen and marked something on a homework sheet. “I can’t give you more medicine for a few hours, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do other things to make you more comfortable.”

“Okay,” Percy said, conflicting and complicated feelings still roiling inside him. He continued eating his lunch while Paul graded homeworks next to him.

And because Percy was still feeling exhausted, Paul cleaned up after lunch, while Percy snuggled back into his blanket cocoon.

And while he wasn’t tired enough to fall back asleep (thank the gods, that felt like all he’d done since last night), he was too tired to do much more than lie there.

His ADHD was not happy about this. Percy needed to move, and the need prickled under his skin. But his muscles might as well have been made of goo in his current state. So he shifted and fidgeted in his blankets, unable to get comfortable.

“You need something, sport?” Paul asked.

“Just antsy,” Percy said.

“You need something to fidget with?” Paul asked. “Or I could put on the tv?”

Percy squirmed some more, “That won’t bother you?”

“I’ll be fine if that’s what you’d like,” Paul reassured him.

Percy could suck it up and suffer through this. It would be the worst, but he would survive. But Paul had told him to let him know if he could do anything to make Percy more comfortable…

“Could you turn on the tv?” Percy asked. “And grab the fidget toys from off my dresser?”

“Absolutely,” Paul said, scooping up the remote and turning to the nature documentary channel that Percy liked. (The shows reminded him of Grover or the ocean, okay? And Percy liked both of those things.) Paul handed Percy the remote and went to go grab Percy’s fidget toys. He soon returned with a half picked apart stress ball, a smooth rock Percy had found on the ocean floor, a slinky, a blue and green snap and click, and a komboloi with beads made of shell.

“Thanks,” Percy said, gratefully taking the fidget toys. He began sliding the beads of his komboloi from one side to the other, the motion, and the noise from the tv helping him relax.

Percy and Paul sat in relative silence like that for a while, each doing their own thing and enjoying each other’s company. At some point Percy relaxed so much that he unconsciously leaned over, resting against Paul.

Both of them froze, unsure what to do in this unfamiliar situation. Just as Percy was going to push away and apologize, Paul said, “It feels like your temperature went down, kiddo. Are you comfortable?”

“Ya,” Percy admitted, though his heart felt like it was trying to beat out of his chest. This did feel good, and he wasn’t contagious or anything. So why did this feel slightly terrifying?

“Glad to hear that, Percy,” Paul said. And he continued on grading, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

*****
At some point Percy must have nodded off, because he woke up still resting on Paul, (he hoped he didn’t drool too bad or say anything weird) but with his mom resting her hand against his forehead.

“Hey sweetie, how you feeling?” she asked.

“Awful but better,” Percy said, sitting more upright.

“He slept most of the day,” Paul explained. “But his fever broke and he hasn’t thrown up at all today.”

“That’s good!” Sally said, giving Percy a kiss on the forehead and Paul a kiss on the lips. “You two have a good day together?”

“Ya, watched tv and played with fidget toys,” Percy said, holding up his snap and click.

Paul smiled, “Percy makes for good company.”

Sally smiled in return. “Glad to hear it. Are you going to be okay for a bit on your own while Paul and I make dinner?”

“Ya, I’ll be okay,” Percy said. Then, reconsidering, “Actually I think I need to get up and go pee.”

Both his mortal parents snorted at that. Paul held out an arm to help him up, which Percy gladly accepted.

“Go take care of yourself,” his mom said, nudging him towards the bathroom.

Percy smiled and tottered off. Not a bad day despite being poisoned.

Chapter Text

Percy had been seven when his mom married Gabe Ugliano. It wasn’t a wedding Percy had been invited to, if you could call signing some paperwork at the courthouse with absolutely no fanfare and the bare minimum of legal necessities a wedding.

Heck, at the time Percy hadn’t even realized that they’d gotten married. His mom had left him with cookies and a kiss at the neighbor’s that sometimes babysat him, saying that she and Gabe had to go do “some adult things”. So Percy played with his plastic dinosaurs and sharks and tried to show Ms. Whittle his trading cards while his mom and Smelly Gabe legally became husband and wife.

It wasn’t until Gabe moved in with them and demanded that Percy show some respect to “the man of the house” that Percy had realized that Gabe wasn’t leaving.

“I don’t want him here,” Percy shrieked, crossing his arms with all the indignation that his seven-year-old body could muster. “I don’t want him to be my dad! No!”

“Percy, sweetie,” his mom replied, calm as ever, brushing his hair out of his face. “I know you’re upset. And that’s okay. Change is scary and this is a big change for all of us.”

“Noooo!” Percy screamed, but his mom interrupted him by sitting next to him on his bed and sweeping him into a hug. “Besides, Gabe isn’t your dad.”

Huh? All the fight left Percy at that statement and he looked up at his mom with confusion. “But… you’re married. And you’re my mom. Doesn’t that make him my dad?”

“No, it’s… it’s complicated, Percy,” his mom sighed. She looked down at him and ruffled his hair. “But I’ll explain it to you if you’d like.”

Percy nodded, snuggling closer to his mom.

“Okay,” his mom started. “So, you know how mommy had to be with someone to have you? And how your daddy can’t be here because he’s lost at sea?”

“Uh huh,” Percy said, absently starting to chew on his fingers.

“Well, that means that someone is already your daddy,” his mom explained. She paused before continuing, “Which means that if someone else wanted to become your dad, they’d have to fill out all this paperwork and go through this long process to adopt you. And I don’t want that. And Gabe doesn’t want that. So he’s not your dad, because he’s never adopted you.”

“Oh,” Percy said, pulling his slobbery fingers out of his mouth. Then after a moment, “Do you think daddy’s coming back?”

His mom rubbed circles into his back, “I think you’ll meet him one day, sweetie.”

“Will stupid smelly Gabe go away then?” Percy asked.

His mom gave him a watery smile, “We’ll see, baby, okay?” she said, kissing him on the head. “We’ll see.”

It was that conversation that they’d had when he was seven that Percy was forcibly reminded of when his mom sat him down, eight years later, right before she got married again.

“I don’t mind Paul,” Percy said, leaning back against the kitchen wall. “He’s actually pretty cool. And he took the whole “ADHD dyslexic demigod who's been expelled several times” thing well.”

“I know, baby,” his mom said. She pulled her and Percy’s favorite mugs out of a cabinet. “I just… I don’t want you to feel pressured into letting Paul adopt you just because I’m marrying him. I want it to be your decision. And I know you’ve only known him for about a year.”

Percy sighed, and then moved to grab the box of tea, willing some water into the kettle on the way.

“What would that mean for me?” Percy asked, turning the box over in his hands. “Paul adopting me? Like I understand why you never let Gabe adopt me but… I guess I don’t know the full legal ramifications.”

“It would mean, well…” his mom started. “Well, it would mean that, legally, he would have the same relationship with you that I have. While you’re still a minor, he could make legal and medical decisions for you. Well, there’s some leeway on that as any doctor or judge would probably take your opinion into account considering how old you are now, even if you can’t legally consent or sign anything binding.

“You’d be issued a new birth certificate listing Paul and I as your birth parents. If you want to change your last name that’s probably when that would happen too.

“And even when you’re an adult, he’d be considered your next-of-kin in cases of emergency or—“ his mom took a shuddering breath, “Or death. Unless you get married or have kids. Then they'd be before me and Paul, if he adopts you.”

His mom looked him in the eye, “But Percy, I want to stress that you don’t have to make this decision now. You don’t even have to make it before you turn eighteen. If you decide to be adopted, adult adoption is an option. You can take your time, decide what kind of relationship you want with Paul. This isn’t a now or never thing.”

“Okay, mama,” Percy said, putting tea bags in the two waiting mugs. “I’ll take my time. Think this through.” Percy looked up at his mom. “How does Paul feel about all this?” he asked.

“I feel like that’s a better question for him than me,” his mom responded, pouring the now hot water from the kettle over the teabags. “But if I had to make a guess… I don’t think he wants you to feel pressured, Percy. I think he wants you to make your own decision about what you want from him.”

Percy considered that, watching the slowly darkening water in his mug. “And dad?”

“Hmmm,” his mother hummed sardonically, “I think if he has a problem with it, then he can leave you and Paul out of it and come to me. That way I can explain to him that if he is okay with entrusting his teenaged son to make a decision that decides the fate of the world, he can at least respect his son’s decision about this.”

Percy snorted at that. He had no doubt that his mother would be perfectly capable of shaming a several thousand-year-old super powerful Greek god into being a (slightly) better parent. Besides it was more amusing to think about that than… you know… the prophecy.

His mom kept insisting that he had time but, gods, did he really? The war with Kronos was really picking up now, and Percy’s sixteenth birthday was only getting closer. Did he really have time to make a choice here?

“What if— What if something happens to me? Before I decide what I want?” Percy asked, looking at his tea, trying to decide whether it was done yet. Better than seeing whatever expression his question brought to his mom’s face.

His mom sighed. In a mournful voice she asked, “You’ve updated your emergency contacts? And your death plan?”

“Ya,” Percy forced out, pitching his used tea bag.

“Then if something happens to you, baby, we’ll follow whatever plan you’ve left with Chiron,” his mom said.

“That’s all?” Percy asked.

“That’s all, baby,” his mom reassured him. “Whatever choices you’ve made about your care, we’ll follow them.”

Percy nodded sharply, and took a sip of his tea. “Okay.…I don’t think I’m ready to make this choice yet.”

“That’s okay, baby,” his mom patted him on the cheek. “Take your time.”

*****

And so Sally and Paul got married and officially became Mrs. Jackson-Blofis and Mr. Blofis-Jackson respectively. And Percy, well he just stayed Percy Jackson for the time being. And that was okay. Neither his mom nor his new stepdad were going to begrudge him for taking his time.

*****

So, college was… different than Percy expected. School had always been a slightly torturous affair for him (what with the teachers and staff who refused to accommodate him and get him what he needed for his dyslexia and ADHD) and, well, he expected college to be more of the same.

But it… wasn’t torturous? He was actually doing well? He even enjoyed some of it? Wild what having teachers who understood about having inborn battlefield reflexes and a brain hardwired for a different language and all the other little fun things that came with being a demigod could do. No one even argued with him about carrying a massive water bottle around everywhere! It was… kinda nice actually.

What wasn’t so nice was the anti-Hellenic sentiment that he kept running into all over New Rome.

And look, okay, most people in New Rome were okay with the Greeks existing and intermingling with Romans, and no one had been overtly hostile to Percy yet. Granted it probably helped that he was a former praetor and had been studying Latin since he was twelve (thank you Chiron for that). But there was still this prevailing attitude that Rome was an improvement on Hellas, and even though that was starting to change, it still grated on Percy.

Which is how he ended up writing his Intro to Literary Analysis paper on Euripides’ Heracles and Seneca’s Hercules furens. Because, even if Heracles was a massive jerk (Percy was never going to forgive his cousin for what he did to Zoë), clearly Euripides’ play was the better of the two. No, Percy didn’t care what some medieval Christians thought. Besides, Seneca couldn’t even spell his cousin’s name right.

And yes, Heracles was a jerk, and yes, it was slightly annoying to spend so much time thinking about him (greatest hero in all of Hellas and he can’t even respect women? Is he really all that great?), Percy had to admit that he had forgotten how good Heracles was. Like oh ya, there was a reason thirteen-year-old Percy had told Hermes that his favorite constellation was Heracles. Because dam, Euripides could write a really solid play.

It had all of Percy’s favorite things: blaming Hera for everything terrible that happens, calling out the gods for being terrible parents, demigods supporting one another through their darkest moments, mortal step-parents who were just the best… Really, what’s not to love?

And speaking of mortal step-parents who were just the best… All this reading about Amphitryon was reminding Percy that he really needed to talk to Paul. He may have been preoccupied these last few years with what? Three wars, countless quests, and who knows how many nearly world ending events. But he hadn’t completely forgotten about the conversation his mom and him had had over tea before she and Paul had gotten married.

And while he hadn’t been ready to make a decision at the time, what with his relationship with Paul being so new and everything else he had to stress out about at the time, now? Four years later? After he had a bit of peace in his life? Ya, Percy thought he might be ready to make that decision.

*****

The thing about going to a Roman school run and attended by a bunch of Romans is that they didn’t follow the same school break/holiday schedule as every mortal school that Percy had ever been to. (And Percy had attended a lot of mortal schools.) No, they followed a modified version of the Julian calendar with all of its Roman holidays, which really made planning trips home a pain. (And apparently asking why they couldn’t use the modified version of the Georgrian calendar that everyone else used, since you know, it was a modified version of the Julian calendar, would get him a lecture on Roman culture and his “lackluster” Greek upbringing.)

But still, he tried his best to make it work, and anytime there was a festival longer than a day, he did try to make it home. And bring Annabeth too, if she also happened to be on break.

It was a good thing that Blackjack was easy to bribe. Donuts from Bombillo’s worked every time.

Which is how Percy ended up back in his parent’s apartment in New York for a little over a week in late October.

Teasing his little sister (how are you growing so fast? I swear you are bigger every time I see you!), helping his mom with cooking, chatting with Paul about his classes, the sounds of the city coming in through the window, ya Percy needed this. As nice as New Rome was (and not having to worry about monsters was really nice), it wasn’t his city; it wasn’t where his family lived.

Speaking of his family…

Estelle had decided that she wanted Mama to read her a bedtime story, so now would be a perfect chance for Percy to talk to Paul.

Percy scooped up a stuffed octopus from the floor. “Why is this wet?” he asked with trepidation.

Paul looked over from the blocks he was picking up, and smiled at his stepson. “Probably because Estelle’s at that age where she’s exploring the world by sticking things in her mouth,” he explained.

“Gross!” Percy said, dropping the plushie in the basket with all of Estelle’s other toys and wiping his hand on his pants.

Paul chuckled, “Water powers don’t work on baby slobber?”

“Or hellhound drool. And I found that one out the hard way too,” Percy explained.

“Welcome to the world of the rest of us mortals,” Paul said, before placing a hand on Percy’s shoulder. “Thanks for helping with cleaning up, sport.”

“No problem, Paul.” Percy shifted uncomfortably. “Actually, uh, Paul? Can we sit down? There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

Paul looked at him with some concern. “Of course,” he said, sitting down on the couch. After Percy curled up next to him he asked, “So where on the scale of relationship advice to world ending prophecy does this fall?”

“Probably closer to relationship advice,” Percy said. “Why?”

“Just trying to make sure I have the right frame of reference in mind,” Paul said. “What do you need, sport?”

“You know I’m really glad mom met you right?” Percy started. “That I really like having you as a part of our family?”

Paul stilled a bit at that, before wrapping his arm a bit tighter around Percy, “Yes…”

“And I keep thinking about, ya know, the last step father I had and how, ya know, you’re a lot better,” Percy readjusted himself so he could snuggle closer to Paul. “I mean, Gabe was a monster and you… Well you rushed into a battle you couldn’t even really see to try and save me from monsters.

“And now, you and mom have been making this awesome little family together, and I know that I’m a part of that but…” Percy swallowed. “I think I’d like to be a part of that legally, ya know?”

“Percy… I just want to make sure that I’m understanding you correctly, sport,” Paul said, voice breathy and soft. “Are you asking if I can adopt you?”

“Ya,” Percy admitted. “I mean, if you’re okay with that and all.”

“Percy,” Paul said, shifting so that he could look his stepson in the eyes, “I would be honored to legally be a part of your family.”

They both were tearing up at this point but it was sniffling from behind them that broke their attention away from the conversation at hand. They looked over the back of the couch, Percy tensing ever so slightly.

“Oh don’t mind me,” his mom said, standing in the living room doorway. “I just finished putting Estelle to bed, and I didn’t want to interrupt you two.” She dabbed some more of her tears away, smiling all the while.

“Ah, come here Mom,” Percy said. “Might as well join us. Besides, I’m going to need both of you to figure out the paperwork.”

“We can get started on that in the morning, okay sport?” Paul said, still tearing up, as Percy’s mom settled in next to her son.

The three of them stayed like that for a bit, snuggled together, crying happily, just enjoying being a family.

Eventually Paul said, “Hey sport?”

“Ya,” Percy said.

“Your father’s not going to, say, smite me for this, is he?” Paul asked. “I seem to remember something from the Odyssey about him being a bit… protective of his children.”

“He’d better not,” Sally said, the threat quite clear in her tone.

Percy chuckled, “I don’t think so. At least, there are a few demigods in the old stories that are referred to as the children of their mortal step-parents. Theseus, Heracles, Helen… So I think the gods are okay with it as long as they are acknowledged as parents too.”

“Hmmm,” Paul said. “Just thought I should make sure. It’d be hard to be a father to you and Estelle if I’m dead.”

“I think we’ll be okay,” Percy said.

“And if Poseidon has a problem with it he can talk to me,” Sally said. “And I can ask him about all the parenting he did for the first twelve years of your life.”

Percy and Paul snorted at that, as the three of them settled into comfortable togetherness.

*****

Being the son of the sea god growing up on one of the most densely populated islands on Earth meant that Percy had long ago scoped out all the best spots to get down to the water that were relatively free of people. You know, in case he had to do some son of the sea god type stuff that he didn’t want any mortals seeing, or getting in the way of.

It was also great for when he needed some privacy.

Like now, as he climbed down an abandoned, decaying dock in New York Harbor. The place stank of rotting seaweed and polluted seawater, and the dock had been deemed structurally unsound due to the amount of shipworm damage. No one who did not have the sea in their blood would venture out here.

He waded out into the water, staying under the dock to hide himself from prying mortal eyes. He stopped once he was about midthigh. Percy closed his eyes and breathed in the sea air, focused on the gentle lapping of the water against his body. Breathe. Calm.

“Hey dad,” he started, opening his eyes to stare out over the horizon. “I know we don’t talk much like this. Probably not as much as I should. But there’s something I really need to talk to you about.

“So you know Paul Blofis? The guy mom married? The guy you teased at my fifteenth birthday?” Percy continued. “He’s a really great guy, and he means a lot to me. And I really, really need you to know that.

“You know, mom told me once that if it came to this conversation that she should be the one to have it with you, not me,” Percy stuffed his hands into his pockets. “But I think I should be the one to break the news to you.”

That must have gotten Poseidon’s attention. Percy could feel the receding waves pull on his body just a bit more than they did before, as if trying slightly harder to pull him out to sea.

“I know you’re trying, dad,” Percy said. “Trying to be a good father to me despite the restrictions you are under when it comes to interacting with me. You’re a lot better at being a parent to me than most gods are to their children. And I appreciate it. I really do. I mean, gods, you even helped me apply for college.

“But you’re a god,” Percy explained. “And you can’t always be there when I need a parent. You can’t do the things a mortal parent can do. And while you understand my divinity, you can’t understand my humanity the way a human parent can. And I need that, dad. The human part of me needs that.

“Which is why,” Percy shifted uncomfortably. Another breath. “Why I’ve asked Paul to adopt me, so that he can legally be my parent too. I’m not trying to insult or replace you, it’s just…

“You’re a god. And I’m… not quite,” Percy rubbed at his eyes, trying to will the tears away. “Please understand. Please don’t hurt him.”

Percy wasn’t sure how long he stood there, rubbing at his eyes, trying to calm down, trying to get his emotions under control. The waves lapped harder at the dilapidated dock around him.

Eventually, something bumped into Percy’s thigh. He could tell it wasn’t a fish (though there were plenty of curious critters in the area), so he figured it was a piece of driftwood or waterlogged trash (this was New York Harbor afterall.) But it wasn’t that.

He looked down and saw, bobbing gently in the waves, a book with a note on it. A note made of the same paper as the letter he once got from his father at age thirteen.

If my little brother could deal with Amphitryon claiming that he, a mere mortal, is a better father than him, then I suppose I can deal with this man who has cared for you.

It wasn’t signed. It didn’t need to be.

Percy chuckled when he saw that the book, of course, was an English translation of Euripides’ Heracles.

“Thank you, father,” Percy said, with a slight smile and bow. Then he waded back to the shore.

*****

After Percy had left to meet Annabeth and Grover at Himbo Juice, Paul noticed a book laying on the table with a blue sticky note on it.

–Paul, it read, page 17.

Paul flicked it open to find another note, and an underlined passage.

The passage read:
“What mortal lives who has not heard this name–
Amphitryon of Argos, who shared his wife
With Zeus? I am he: son of Alcaeus
Perseus’ son, and father of Heracles.”

“Father of Heracles” was double underlined.

The note read, I think dad’s ok with it. –Percy

Paul smiled, amused at his stepson’s way of telling him that he wasn’t the first stepfather to adopt their demigod child.

*****

Finally, it was Thursday. Which meant that Annabeth was officially on fall break and the two of them could hang out with Grover in the city. They were meeting up at Himbo Juice, for old times sake, and then heading to the Jackson-Blofis residence for dinner. And Annabeth would be staying with them for the rest of the break, before she and Percy had to head back to California.

Wasn’t it wonderful when Roman and mortal school schedules lined up?

So there they were, sipping smoothies, cracking jokes, and catching up on each other’s lives.

“So what about you, Seaweed Brain?” Annabeth eventually asked. “What have you been doing on your week-long Roman holiday?”

“Oh ya know,” Percy said, poking his straw around in his smoothie. “Watching my sister, who is adorable by the way, helping Mom with a book signing event, asked Paul to adopt me—“

“Wait what,” Annabeth interrupted.

“I asked Paul to adopt me,” Percy repeated slowly.

“Dude, really?” Grover asked. “Like you can do that at your age?”

“Apparently,” Percy said. “It’s some, like, legal thing that exists for situations like this.”

“Huh,” Grover said, taking a bite out of the side of his cup.

“I thought Paul had already adopted you,” Annabeth said, stirring her smoothie thoughtfully.

“Nah,” Percy said. “Mom and Paul wanted to make sure that was something I wanted before we did anything. And I’ve spent the past few years being busy with titans and giants and emperors and college applications, oh my, to really think about it too much. So we’re just getting around to all the paperwork and legal necessities now.”

“They waited for your approval,” Annabeth said bitterly. She took a sip of her smoothie, “Ya, that sounds like your parents.”

Grover glanced warily at Annabeth.

“Oh,” Percy said. “Your dad and stepmother didn’t. They just had her adopt you when they got married, didn’t they?”

“Yep,” Annabeth said.

“The human legal system can just force you to be family with people you don’t want to be related to?” Grover said. “That’s so messed up.”

“Ya well, I might now have to worry about it much longer,” Annabeth said. “Dad’s realizing more and more how terrible of parents the two of them were to me. And he’s… pretty upset about it. Trying to do better by me, I guess. Last time we talked he, um, brought up the possibility of divorce.”

“Well at least you won’t have to deal with your stepmother anymore,” Percy said.

“Nope,” Annabeth agreed.

“And I’m sure my parents would adopt you if you’re looking for new parents,” Percy continued.

“Only one problem with that, Seaweed Brain.”

“What’s that, Wise Girl?”

“It would make it a little tricky for us to get married.”

“Hmmm, true. Let’s do that instead.” Percy teased, taking a slurp of his smoothie.

“If you two are going to flirt with each other, at least pass me the napkin dispenser,” Grover said. “I might as well have something to snack on while you two make gooey eyes at each other.”

That made Percy snort smoothie out of his nose, which of course made Annabeth and Grover completely crack up. The three of them continued laughing as they got Percy and the table cleaned up.

*****

So, paperwork. Turns out adoption is a lot more legally complicated than getting married is.

You have to submit a petition, and get an attorney, and pay a filing fee, and figure out which court in your county deals with adult adoption cases because it might not be the same court that deals with other adoption cases. And only after you do all of that can you get a court date which is months away.

Percy was so glad he had his parents to help with this. So they got the ball rolling. Paul and his mom would keep things moving while he was away at college; he would fill out paperwork and meet with the attorney during his breaks. They figured out a way to make it work.

And eventually their court date came.

“Do I really have to wear this?” Percy asked, looking down at the tie Paul was currently tying around his neck.

“I think it makes you look very spiffy,” Annabeth said from her place on the couch.

Paul chuckled. “Technically no,” he admitted. “But it will make you look more professional in front of the judge which will help our case.”

“What, the button up and the dress pants don’t make me look professional enough?” Percy complained.

“Dude, I saw you wear a button up and dress pants, like, every day at Yancy,” Grover said, tugging on his own pants. “I know you can look unprofessional in that.”

“Why did I invite you two again if you’re just going to make fun of me?” Percy said.

“Hey, I complimented you!” Annabeth protested, smoothing her dress.

“And because this is a big day for you and you want us to be there,” Grover said.

“Ya, ya I do,” Percy said.

“There,” Paul said, smiling at their antics as he finished adjusting the knot. “Not too tight?”

“Nope, it’s good,” Percy said. “Thanks.”

“You boys all ready to go then?” his mom said, trying to keep Estelle from eating her dress. (She was all dressed up like the rest of them, and Percy found it to be adorable.) “We really don’t want to be late.”

“Yep,” Percy said, picking up his folder of paperwork to present to the judge.

“Well then, let’s get going. The courthouse awaits,” Paul said.

So they went down to the courthouse, almost got lost on the way to the courtroom, sat through a few petitions that came before theirs, and pleaded their case.

“Well, is that all then?” the judge asked. Percy, his mom and Paul confirmed their agreement. “Okay,” the judge continued. “Then I approve. I shall have your order of adoption and name change signed, submitted, and granted by the end of the day today. You should receive your court orders within the next week, which you will submit to the Department of Health so that Perseus Jackson-Blofis’s new birth certificate may be issued.”

Percy reached out and hugged Paul in excitement.

“Thank you,” Paul told the judge.

Grover and Annabeth made their way out of the observation seats and met the Jackson-Blofisses outside the courtroom, where they could celebrate together as a family.

Chapter Text

Paul was finishing up writing this week's vocab words on the board as his second period class filtered in.

The final bell rung just as he was finishing up the last word (befall). “Okay,” he started. “We’re going to start with our fifteen minutes of reading time, and then we are going to go over the vocab words for this week.” His students already knew the drill by this point in the semester. Every class started with reading time, and Mondays were always vocab days. Most of his students had already pulled out their books, or grabbed a magazine or newspaper from the table at the front of the room.

Paul moved over to his desk to grab the vocabulary sheets when his phone rung. Paul picked up the receiver. “Hello?” he asked.

“Hello Paul, it’s Jamie from the science department,” came the voice from the other end of the phone. “I don’t know if you know already, but the administration has advised the rest of us to avoid the English wing. They haven’t told us why, but rumor is there’s a shooting going on in your end of campus. You might want to lockdown your classroom.”

Paul tried to stay calm for his student’s sake. “Yes okay. Thank you for calling me Jamie.” And with that he hung up the phone, walked calmly, and quietly over to the door, and closed it. Then he turned to his students.

“You can keep quietly reading for the rest of the period if you’d like. And I know you all have your phones on you, so I’ll give you all a free pass to be on them quietly given the situation. We’re on lockdown,” he told them.

*****
Percy hated having gym second period. It was too early in the day to really help with his ADHD, he was barely awake enough to temper his reflexes to more human standards, and the teachers never gave enough time to shower between classes, so he just ended up feeling gross and sweaty the rest of the day.

The only good thing about gym class at Alternative High School was that everyone was here because their schooling had been messed up and they were trying to catch up, so at least Percy hadn’t been put in a class with a bunch of freshman and sophomores to make up the one semester of required PE that’d he missed. (Thanks Hera. Wonderful aunt that you are.)

Anyway, Percy had been trying to change as fast as he could, hoping that maybe if he was quick enough he could stop by the single stall restroom by his English class and maybe clean up a bit more (water powers were great sometimes) when one of his least favorite classmates, Richard, called out his name, “Hey Jackson! Didn’t you used to go to that froofy school over on 81st? Goode?”

“Why do you care, Webster?” Percy replied, shooting a glare over at the obnoxious boy.

Richard had apparently been taking advantage of the fact that there were no teachers in the locker rooms to mess around on his phone, which he now waved in Percy’s direction, a cruel smile on his face, “Oh just curious if you still had some friends there is all. I mean, if I did, I’d be saying my goodbyes, given the circumstances. But I guess you don’t care much about your friends, or you never had any.”

Percy could feel his anger burning just underneath his skin. A horrible creaking noise came from the showers a few feet away. “What. Exactly. Are you talking about, Webster?” Percy forced out as calmly as possible. You know, so he only sounded like a general threatening war instead an angry god about to unleash his wrath.

“Oh didn’t you hear?” Richard asked, voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Oh that’s right, I forgot you’re too poor to have a phone. Well, I guess you wouldn’t have heard then. Rumor is that there is a shooting going on over there. It’d be a shame if any of your friends got caught in it.”

And with that information, at least three of the shower heads broke, spraying water everywhere. All the fight left Percy in an instant. He ignored his classmates cursing, rushing to put the last of his clothes on and shove his stuff in his bag. He slipped out of the locker room without further notice, (see, water powers are useful) and started to run to the nearest exit.

He had to get to Goode. He had to get to Paul. He had to–

Percy stopped abruptly outside the math classrooms, nearly colliding with some juniors trying to get to Trigonometry.

There was a shooting going on at Goode, and if he got there in time, what could he do? Sure, Percy could fight monsters, gods, titans. He could save ensnared mermaids and trapped dolphins. He had years of hero training and literal superpowers. But none of that would help him much against some asshole with a gun.

All of his instincts were screaming at him to do something! You’re a hero! So fight! Protect! Save! But really, what could he do that would actually help?

But he had to do something. He had to get out of here. There were too many people and he wasn’t just going to sit around in class while Paul was– While Paul might be–

Oh gods, Mom, Percy thought. Did she know? He had to tell her. He had to call her. For once, Percy wished that the Hermes and Hephestus cabins had finished their monster-proof phones pet project. He usually didn’t see the point. Afterall, they’d all managed this long without phones with Iris messages and whatnot. But having his own phone would be really convenient right now.

The office. The office would have a phone. He’d beg the secretary to let him call his mom. This had to count as an emergency, right? His mind made up, Percy began rushing through the halls again, ducking and weaving around the other students trying to get to class.

He burst into the office. The secretary held up one finger before he could even say anything, and continued her phone conversation, “Yes Mrs. Jackson-Blofis, I’ll make sure your son is here waiting for you when you come to pick him up. Mm-hmm. Have a nice day.”

The secretary, Margaret (gods, he should really learn her last name), hung up the phone and turned to him. “Hello Percy. As I am sure you’re aware, that was your mother. She’s coming to pick you up.”

Margaret pulled out a slip and started filling it out. “I’ll inform your teachers that you’ve been excused for the rest of the day. Now,” she said, offering him the slip, “if you need to get anything from your locker, I’d suggest you get it now. Is there anything else you need?”

Percy took the hall pass. Dam, secretaries really did know everything. Also, should he be concerned that the school secretary recognised him on sight? Was he really in the office that often?

“Um thanks,” Percy managed as his brain recalibrated to take into account this new information. “Did my mom say why she was coming?”

“She said there was a family emergency. But I’m guessing you already knew that,” Margaret replied.

“Ya, uhhh…” Percy said, trying to think of some sort of explanation. As much as he hated Richard, snitching on him would only make Percy’s life more miserable.

“I’ll let it slide this time, but do try to keep your phone in your locker in the future, Percy,” Margaret said, turning towards her computer and beginning to type. “Now go get your things. Your mother will be here soon.”

“Right,” Percy said. “I’ll be right back.” Then he walked into the now empty halls towards his locker.

Did his mom know what was going on, or was she picking him up for a different reason? Ma ten Hestian, something didn’t happen with his mom’s pregnancy, did it? But then why would she be picking him up?

And how did Richard know about anything happening at Goode? It’s not like he knew anyone there.

Percy put his head on his locker, and sighed. He was going to be stuck alone with his thoughts rowling around his head with worry until his mom got here, wasn’t he? But really, what else could he do?

*****
Sally didn’t know how long Percy had been anxiously waiting for her, but by the time she got to Alternative High’s office, he had clearly worked himself in a state. He sat in one of the far too little office chairs, leg bouncing a million miles an hour, bending his snap and click so forcefully she thought he might break it (again), and biting his lip so hard she was considering checking his mouth for blood.

The second he saw her, Percy grabbed his bag and rushed to stand by her.

Percy had gotten a bit… protective of her since learning she was pregnant. She had pointed out to him that she was more than able of taking care of herself, after all didn’t he remember how she had fulfilled his prophecy when he was twelve. Also, she had Paul to help her. He had responded that while that was one hundred percent true, she had more recently run into a battle that she wasn’t trained for instead of away and he thought he should be allowed to worry a little bit.

Which led to him hovering anxiously over her shoulder, as she tried to make light chat with the school secretary and file out the sign out sheet.

“Well, that’s all I need,” the secretary said. “You’re free to go. I hope everything’s alright.”

Sally forced a smile and grabbed her purse, “Thanks.”

“See you tomorrow, Percy,” the secretary said.

“See ya,” Percy said, and together, Sally and Percy left the office.

Once they were out of earshot of the building, Percy asked, “Mom… why are you picking me up early?”

Sally pulled out her cell phone and flipped it open. No new calls. “Why don’t we wait until we get home to talk about that, baby?”

They continued walking down the street towards the subway station. After only a few moments of silence though, Percy asked, “Something happened to Paul, didn’t it?”

Sally sighed. She should have known that Percy would figure that much out. Afterall, how many other conclusions could there be to pulling him out of school for a family emergency and her being the one to pick him up. Well, Sally supposed it could be something on the godly side of the family, but they tended to give far less warning and would have sent something far less friendly to pick him up.

“Yes,” Sally admitted, pulling her son over by the buildings and out of people’s way. This was the most privacy they were going to get in the streets of New York. She turned him to face her, locking eyes. “Percy, the news is reporting that there is some kind of shooting going on at Goode. And I haven’t heard from Paul.”

“Skor!” Percy swore. He leaned against the building and ran a hand over his face. “I mean, I kinda already knew that but… skor!”

“What do you mean you already knew?” Sally asked. She swore if there was actually something mythological going on here and the Mist was covering it…

“One of the other kids at school,” Percy clarified. “At least, that explains how that koprophagos–”

“Language,” Sally admonished. It might have been appropriate earlier, but she probably shouldn’t let her son describe his classmates like that, however accurate it may be.

Percy sighed angrily, “That explains how Richard knew what was going on at Goode.” Sally decided to ignore how he said his classmate’s name with all venom of its diminutive.

After rubbing at his eyes some more, Percy asked, “What do we do now?”

Sally rested her hand on his cheek, “We go home, sweetie. We wait for news.”

“That’s it!” Percy exclaimed. “We’re not going to do something! We’re just going to sit around and wait while Paul could be hurt or dying or–”

“Percy,” Sally said, firmly. She took a deep breath and let it out. “Percy, what else can we do? We’d only be in the way if we went to Goode. And if we called Paul, we might put him in more danger. I know you want to help, sweetie, but the best way we can do that is to go home and wait for news.”

Percy looked at her, and after a few moments seemed to deflate. “Fine. It’s just… skor!”

“I know, baby,” Sally tugged on Percy’s arm. “Now come on. Let’s go home.”

*****
Paul had barely closed the door to his office before he pressed the one on his speed dial. He pressed his phone against his ear, leaned back against the wall, and sighed. It had been a long day, and it wasn’t even noon yet.

The dial tone was cut short before it had even completed its first ring, “Paul?” Sally’s voice was shaky.

“Hi Sally,” Paul said. “Something happened at work.”

“I know. Are you okay?” Sally asked, sounding a bit frantic.

“He’d better be okay!” came Percy’s voice from somewhere in the background.

“I’m fine!” Paul explained. “But… How do you know about the shooting? Why’s Percy there? Where are you two?”

“We’re at home, Paul,” Percy said, though his voice sounded far away from the phone as if he hoped that physically distancing himself from the phone would make it harder for monsters to track him over it.

“That’s good; I’m so glad you’re safe,” Sally let out a sigh of relief. “I don’t know if you can hear what Percy’s saying but we’re at home. I heard about a shooting at Goode on the news and went to pick him up. Is there anything you need? Are you coming home soon?”

“Ah okay,” Paul said. “I’ll be home as soon as I can. The administration canceled school for the rest of the day. I have to go help watch the students until their parents can pick them up. Then I’ll come straight home.”

“You’d better!” came Percy’s (still faint) voice.

“Okay, we’ll see you then,” Sally said. “Percy and I will pick us all up some sandwiches for lunch. Stay safe. I love you.”

Paul’s heart would never not melt a bit when his wife said that. “I will. I love you too,” he said, softly.

Then Paul closed his phone and pocketed it. He took another second to mentally prepare himself before heading off to the gym.

*****

Percy practically launched himself at Paul when he got home. “ Are you sure you’re okay? Did the medics look you over?” Percy checked his stepfather over for injuries. Sure they didn’t learn about gunshot wounds at Camp, but how different could they be from arrow injuries or shrapnel and slingshot wounds?

Paul snored at Percy’s protectiveness. “Good to see you too, sport.”

Sally had been quick to follow Percy, or as quick as someone several months pregnant could be. “Oh Paul,” she said, wrapping him in a hug that Paul eagerly leaned into. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Me too,” he muttered, kissing his wife before turning back to Percy. “I didn’t get shot, Percy. It was a minor shooting. The cops chased someone onto my end of campus and shot them. No one who was supposed to be on campus got hurt.”

“Of course it was the cops’ fault. Because they make everything better,” Percy said bitterly, before muttering under his breath about “cops chasing twelve-year-olds across the country for stupid reasons.” Percy looked Paul in the eyes, “You’re okay?” he confirmed for what felt like the millionth time today.

“Yes,” Paul said earnestly. “Come here,” Paul said, pulling Percy into the hug.

“This really shook you up, didn’t it baby?” Sally said, ruffling his hair.

“Oh like you weren’t worried to Hades and back too,” Percy said into Paul’s shoulder. “Gods, is this how you two feel every time I go off to do something dangerous? Because if so, I’m never doing that to you two again.”

“I don’t think you can promise that, sport,” Paul said.

“Hmmm, I can try,” Percy said. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Me too,” Paul repeated. “Now I hear you got me a sandwich?”
“Yep!” Percy said, perking up and breaking out of their hug. “I made sure they put extra spaghetti on it!” he said before darting into the kitchen.

“You did not,” Paul called after his stepson.

“He did not,” Sally agreed. “That would be his.”

“Why do you have to ruin my fun, Mom?” Percy whined.

Sally and Paul chuckled and joined Percy for a well deserved lunch.

Chapter Text

Paul wasn’t sure why he expected Percy’s first visit home from college to be any less adrenaline inducing. After all, the mythological world was never really… calm even when it was more peaceful. In retrospect, Percy showing up at home with a bag over his shoulder and a bloodied leg was probably to be expected.

“How is it that I can drive across a continent just fine, no issues, but the second I go to walk into our apartment building, I get jumped!” Percy complained through gritted teeth as Paul helped him to the bathroom. This was quickly followed by what Paul was fairly certain was a string of Ancient Greek obscenities describing Laestrygonians.

“Language,” Sally called from where she was holding a babbling Estelle. “While I’m sure it is appropriate, we do not need your sister repeating any of that at preschool.”

Paul helped Percy sit down on the edge of the bathtub, his injured leg angled inside, while Sally put Estelle in her baby bouncer and grabbed the first aid kit. Paul turned on the faucet to start filling the tub with water.

Percy sighed with relief once the water was high enough to start lapping at his wounds. “Man, I forgot how much that hurts,” he said.

“College providing a much needed break?” Paul asked, trying not to be too concerned about the amount of blood in the water.

“Ya,” Percy said, leaning back against the wall.

“Glad to hear you’ve been staying safe, sweetie,” Sally said, kissing the top of her son’s head. “Now, can you pop your leg out of the water for a second so we can see what we’re working with?”

*****
Paul hated getting random cramps in his leg in the middle of the night. They really hurt, and the only way to get rid of them was to get up and walk around, which always made it more difficult for Paul to get back to sleep. He slipped out of bed as quietly as he could so as to not wake his wife and hobbled over to their bedroom door.

If he was up and walking around anyway, he might as well check on the kids.

Much like the nightlights throughout the Jackson-Blofis apartment, it was a habit born after Percy’s return home after being kidnapped. It had started as a way for Sally and Paul to reassure themselves that Percy was home and he was safe. (The latter not guaranteed given the amount of trauma that tormented Percy day and night.) And by the time Percy managed to adjust to a more healthy sleep schedule, well there was a newborn baby to attend to. Now with Percy away at college and Estelle sleeping through more nights than not, Sally and Paul were starting to let go of their nightly routine.

But again, since he was up and walking anyways…

Paul listened at his stepson’s door. Nothing. Paul reminded himself that Percy was probably fine, probably just sleeping off the nasty monster attack he dealt with earlier in the day. He could go check on his daughter without risking waking his (understandably) jumpy stepson by opening his door and peeking his head in.

Estelle on the other hand he could risk looking in on. He peeked open her door just enough to see her sleeping form lying on her belly in her crib. Paul watched his daughter in silence for a few moments, then eased the door shut again.

With his children safe and sound, and the cramp in his leg gone, Paul could make his way back to the bed he shared with his wife.

He was on his way back to bed when he heard a soft thunk and some muffled cursing from his stepson’s room.

Paul hesitated. Paul knew that Percy liked to try to deal with nightmares on his own and, thanks to the past few years of therapy, had gotten pretty good at it. Still, if Percy was awake then he had to know that Paul was too, and it wouldn’t hurt to check on him.

Paul rapped softly on Percy’s doorframe, just in case his stepson actually was asleep, before quietly calling out, “Hey sport, are you up? Is everything okay?”

Paul heard Percy’s bed frame creak and some shuffling noises. Then, “Hey Paul? Could you grab me a towel?” came the quiet response.

“Ya, sure thing, sport. One second,” Paul said. He opened the linen closet and grabbed a towel, before making his way into his stepson’s bedroom.

Percy’s room was a lot more spartan than it used to be, what with most of his stuff moved into his dorm room in New Rome. Most of what was left were things like winter clothes, extra weapons, and sheets that didn’t fit his dorm room mattress, things he didn’t need at college but were nice at home.

When Percy was away at school, Paul thought the room felt dead and empty and way too similar to when Percy was kidnapped. It was a different story when Percy came home, however. It was amazing how much life a few dirty clothes, a skateboard, some fidget toys and a fish themed night light could bring to a place.

It was in the middle of this mess that Paul found his stepson, sitting on the edge of his bed in pajamas, dirty rag in hand, shield resting at his side, staring at a puddle of something dripping off of his bedside table and onto the floor.

“Hey kiddo, I got the towel,” Paul said, stepping into the room.

Percy looked up at him, blinking like he’d just woken up. “Oh, thanks,” Percy said in a flat voice. He reached out to grab the towel Paul offered, but stopped, looking down at the rag in his hand. Percy sighed. “I’m an idiot,” he mumbled.

“No you’re not, sport,” Paul said, gently squeezing his stepson’s shoulder. “You’re probably just tired. How about I help you clean this up, okay?”

“Okay,” Percy sighed, dropping down to the floor. Paul settled down next to him and started wiping up the mystery liquid from the floor.

“So should I ask what this is?” Paul said, trying to keep his tone light. After all, knowing what Percy’s life was like meant that they could be cleaning up all sorts of things that Paul really probably shouldn’t be thinking about, especially given that his stepson wasn’t using his water powers on whatever this substance was. Then again, Percy was clearly so tired or distracted that he’d forgotten he already had something to clean up with, so forgetting about his powers wasn’t exactly out of the question.

Percy finished wiping down his bedside table. “Olive oil,” Percy answered, gesturing toward a bottle on the table. He didn’t expound further, just looked down at the oily rag in his hand, and heaved another sigh. Then he settled back against the side of his bed and pulled his shield onto his lap.

Paul finished wiping up the floor, before moving to sit next to his stepson. He put an arm around the young man’s shoulders, and pulled him closer in a sort of sideways hug. Maybe it was the dimness of the room or the odd colored light from the fish shaped night light, but Percy looked more tired than he’d had since graduating high school.

“Thanks,” Percy mumbled, not looking at him but tracing his fingers over the designs on his shield instead. “Sorry for waking you.”

“Don’t worry about it, kiddo. I was already up,” Paul said quietly back. He rubbed his stepson’s upper arm soothingly as he held him. They sat for a bit in the relative quiet of a Manhattan night (it wasn’t called the city that never sleeps for no reason), just soaking in each other’s presence.

“Is everything okay, sport?” Paul asked. “I know that you’re on break, but you’re usually not up this late. Is school okay? Did you have a nightmare?”

Percy, having apparently found… something on his shield, began rubbing at the metallic surface with his oil soaked rag. “School’s fine,” he said. “Kinda never went to sleep so no nightmares.”

“But something’s still bothering you,” Paul said. “You’re still up in the middle of the night doing… something to your shield.”

“Maintenance,” Percy clarified, continuing to rub oil into the designs. “Sweat and stuff can corrode the metal and damage the leather. Olive oil helps clean and protect it.”

“Hmmm,” Paul hummed, and didn’t say anything more. If Percy wanted to talk about whatever was bothering him, he probably would eventually. Paul knew from experience that pushing him any further wouldn’t help; it would just upset his stepson. But he could sit by him, be a comforting presence.

After Percy had moved on to working on a new section of his shield, he said, “School’s been really nice actually. The librarians helped me get all my readings in Greek. Well, except the ones for my Roman history class. Those have to be in Latin. And the teachers are all former legionnaires so they all get what it’s like to grow up with ADHD and battlefield instincts and stuff. And there’s no monsters that’ll attack us in New Rome, so Annabeth and I can just hang out or spar or relax without worrying about being attacked. It’s…nice. Really nice.”

“That’s good,” Paul said. “It sounds like you’re getting all your accommodations and needs met. You found a place where you can just exist and be a college student. Your mom and I are really happy for you.”

Percy didn’t say anything, just rubbed harder at his shield.

“Unless you don’t like it or want something to be different,” Paul said. “Then just let me or your mom know and we’ll help you figure it out. You’re still technically a teenager. You have plenty of time to start over or change things to find what works for you.”

“It’s not that,” Percy sighed. “It’s just…”

Paul waited while Percy found his words.

“Everyone gets it,” Percy finally said. “Everyone in New Rome grew up being attacked by monsters and trained in an ancient military. Everyone has superpowers or knows people who do and everyone is familiar with things that are thousands of years old and everyone’s family is really fucked up. And it’s all just… normal. I mean there’s some difference between the Greek and the Roman stuff, but…” Percy’s voice broke. “I’ve never felt so normal.”

Percy turned his head, looking at Paul for the first time since he started working on his shield. “Is this what it feels like?” he asked. “Is this what being human’s like?”

Paul pulled in a stuttering breath, and held Percy a bit tighter, trying not to show how close he was to crying. “If you find the right people and get all your needs met, then yes, being human can feel like that.”

Percy nodded, and went back to working on his shield. “Good. I’m glad that you and Mom and Estelle get that. It seems really nice, just being a normal human.”

“Hmmm, and here I thought your mom and I were ‘weirdos who flirt with each other in Shakespearean English’,” Paul said.

“Well, you are,” Percy said. “It’s your fault I know so much Jacobean erotic slang. And you know what I mean.”

“You deserve a place you can be safe and surrounded by people like you too, kiddo,” Paul said. “I’m glad you found a place like that. And I’m sorry your mom and I can’t always provide that for you.”

“It’s okay,” Percy said. “It’s not your fault that you two are human and I’m a demigod.” Percy paused in rubbing down his shield. “Well, I guess it kinda is Mom’s fault but that’s not what I mean.” Percy started working at some little detail again. “Thank you for giving me a family. And a home. Even if I’m not human like the rest of you.”

“Of course, sport. What else could we do,” Paul said.

They just sat there, in comfortable silence until they drifted off to sleep, oil soaked towels forgotten beside them.

Chapter Text

Maybe November wasn’t the ideal time to go to the beach, but when had that ever stopped Percy and Sally before? The two of them were determined to get in as many trips to Montauk as they could manage before the end of next summer. Besides, they hadn’t taken Paul there yet, and it was about time they rectified that.

“So you and Sally go to Montauk often?” Paul asked, lifting his and Sally’s bags into the car.

“Ya,” Percy replied, plopping his bag alongside theirs. “I love the ocean ‘cause well… ya know…” Percy shuffled a bit awkwardly. “Mom has told you about that, right?”

Paul looked over at his stepson, “You and Sally did explain to me that you’re a son of Poseidon, yes.”

“No, I mean…” Percy wouldn’t look at Paul, some color rising into the boy’s cheeks. “Mom told you that she met dad at Montauk, right?”

“Yes, Sally and I have already discussed that,” Paul said calmly. “I know the two of you had lives before I met you. It’s okay, Percy.”

Percy looked over at him, and Paul gave him a reassuring smile.

“Besides,” Paul continued, “I like the beach and I’m looking forward to spending time there with you and Sally.”

“Do you… uhhh… go there often?” Percy asked, clearly glad for the change in topic.

“Not since I was in college,” Paul figured he probably shouldn’t scandalize his new stepson with those stories quite yet so he continued, “I used to go crabbing everytime I went to the beach as a kid.”

“Crabbing?” Percy asked. “Like catching crabs?”

“Yes,” Paul said. “Have you ever done it?”

Percy shook his head.

“If you’re interested, I could show you,” Paul offered.

“Uhhh… ya,” Percy said. “Ya, that sounds cool.”

Paul knew better than to be offended at how blasé Percy sounded. Paul doubted many teenagers would be over excited about more bonding time with the new stepparent. Crabbing with your stepfather when you had all the world’s oceans that you could easily explore probably sounded pretty dull.

Besides, it had to be somewhat weird to Percy that Paul was going with him and Sally to a place that was so important to the two of them.

Not to mention how preoccupied Percy had been as of late. Paul didn’t know the full details, but he knew there was a war going on in the mythological world that all the demigods, including Percy, were caught up in.

Hopefully, this trip would be a much needed break for Percy.

“I hope you boys remembered to leave room for the food,” Sally said, joining them at the car.

“We did, mama,” Percy said, grabbing one of the insulated bags from her and loading it into the trunk.

“Though we might have to make one last stop before we reach the cabin,” Paul said.

Sally looked over at him. “Oh, and why’s that?” she asked.

“Paul’s gonna take me crabbing,” Percy explained.

“If we can find a place to rent ring nets from,” Paul clarified.

“I see you two have been plotting without me, “ Sally said. She smiled, and kissed them both, Paul on the cheek and Percy on the temple. “I think that sounds like a great idea!”

“Well then,” Paul said, closing the trunk, “shall we hit the road?”

“To Montauk!” Percy said, rushing to get into the car.

Sally and Paul chuckled, before getting into the front seats.

*****

Sure enough there was a bait and tackle shop on the way to Montauk. Percy wandered off to look at all of the fishing gear and tackle, while Sally and Paul took care of acquiring everything they would need for crabbing.

“So what are you going to do with the crabs once you catch them?” Sally asked, picking out some gloves for Percy.

“We used to cook them on the fire for dinner as a kid,” Paul said, grabbing a pair of crabbing tongs. “But we can always just let them go.”

“Crab sounds like a good dinner to me,” Sally said. “I’m sure Percy won’t mind either.”

“Well, then, I hope we pull a good catch,” Paul replied.

Once they’d gathered all their things and rounded up Percy from where he was inspecting the fishing flies, they made their way to the front counter to rent their net, bucket and tongs, and buy some gloves and sardines.

Then they were back on their way.

*****

Paul and Percy braved the cold November air to travel out to the end of one of the piers that jutted into Long Island Sound, leaving Sally back at the cabin to relax with her book and a hot cup of tea. The sky was overcast above them, and the wind whipped off the sea as they made their way down with their net, bucket, bait, gloves and tongs.

“So,” Paul said, cracking open the tin of sardines, “we just take these and put them in this little clip right here,” he said gesturing to the net. “Then we just drop the net down into the water and watch the bobber. Once it dips below the surface, that means we have something in our net, hopefully a crab. Then we just pull it up and see what we’ve caught.”

“That’s it?” Percy asked.

“That’s it,” Paul said, clipping the last of the small fish into the net. “Do you want to do the honors?”

“Sure,” Percy picked up the net and dropped it over the end of the pier, keeping a hold of the line all the while. The net sunk beneath the surface of the sea ‘til all that remained visible was the little neon bobber and the line it was attached to.

“This seems too easy,” Percy said, staring at where the net had vanished.

“Well, it is pretty easy,” Paul said. “That’s why people have been doing it for thousands of years.”

“And now we just… wait?” Percy asked.

“Pretty much,” Paul said.

“Hmmm,” Percy grumbled, twisting the line between his fingers.

Paul wondered idly if he should have gotten that fly tying kit he’d seen at the bait and tackle shop, if only to give his ADHD stepson something to do while they waited. But Percy settled down on the pier and started examining one of the old ropes tied to the end of it.

They sat in silence for a bit, Paul trying to figure out what, if anything, he should say.

Eventually Percy said, “What if I just stick my head into the water?”

“Don’t do that. The water is way too cold,” Paul said, trying to figure out what his stepson had been thinking that led him to that conclusion.

“Not for me it’s not,” Percy said. “Son of the sea god, remember?”

“You need to breathe,” Paul said, feeling like he was somehow the inexperienced one here.

“Which I can do under water,” Percy said.

“It’ll be all dark and murky?” Paul said, mentally recalibrating what was considered normal as far as his new stepson was concerned.

“Also not a problem for me,” Percy said with a look of amusement. Probably at whatever face Paul was making. Though his look shifted to one of slight concern. “Too much?” He asked.

“No,” Paul said, hoping he was successfully hiding the slight bit of overwhelm he felt. “Just stay safe, and try not to scare off our catch.”

Percy shot him two thumbs up. “I won’t,” he said, before gripping the edge of the pier and plunging his head into the water below.

Paul tried not to freak out too much at this. Afterall, this was nothing for Percy, right? In the end, Paul figured he’d better keep an eye on Percy for any signs of distress, and follow up with Sally later.

It wasn’t long before Percy popped his head back above water, looking no different than he had before he’d decided to dunk himself. “Oooo, they’re coming!” Percy said.

Sure enough, in a few moments their bobber slipped beneath the surface. Paul pulled up the net, using the tongs to transfer the tangled snapping mess full of crabs into the bucket.

“Cool!” Percy said, reaching for the bucket.

“Ah sport, you might want to be careful and put on some–” Paul started to say but it was too late.

Percy reached into the bucket with his bare hands and picked up one of the crabs like a hamburger. “Hey there, lil fella,” he said, sticking a finger near the crab as if to poke its shell. “Look at you. You’ve got gross sardine bits all over your weird mouth.”

“Percy, please be careful,” Paul said, though he wondered how much he needed to worry. While Paul wasn’t quite sure how it all worked, Percy was the son of the sea god and these crabs were definitely of the sea. Did Percy have, like, some princely claim over them? How much of his father’s claim did Percy inherit?

But it seemed this crab either didn’t know or didn’t care who Percy was as it snapped at Percy’s finger. Percy yanked his hand back with a cry of pain, before sticking his finger back in the crab’s face. “Hey! Rude!” he admonished it.

“You did call its mouth weird,” Paul reminded him.

“Ya, well his mouth is weird. Besides, I’m not sure how much he really understands me, “ Percy said, tilting the crab this way and that to get a better look at it. “Crabs aren’t great conversationalists.”

A new, slightly horrifying, thought occurred to Paul. “Percy… Can you talk to that crab?”

“Ya,” Percy said, like understanding what animals were saying was the most normal thing in the world. “Crabs, fish, all sea life really,” Percy looked away from the crab, making a face. “And horses, “ he continued. “Because I guess Dad decided he needed a land animal too.”

“Ah,” Paul said, really trying not to think about how sentient crabs apparently were. “Well, I was going to ask how you felt about having crab for dinner, but I guess we’d better release them once you’re done looking at them.”

Percy stopped his examination of the crab to give Paul a confused look, “Why? Is the water too polluted or something?”

“It… shouldn’t be, “ Paul said, trying to figure out how to delicately broach this topic. “I just figured… that you might not want to eat something you can talk to.”

“Hmmm,” Percy said, crab with legs still waving grasped firmly in his hands. “I do have a pretty hard rule about not eating anything I can hold a conversation with. But like I said, crabs aren’t great conversationalists. I don’t have a problem with eating crab.”

“Ah. Well… okay,” Paul said, deciding that if the person who could talk to crabs had no qualms about them then maybe he shouldn’t either. “In that case, how about you help me measure these crabs so we can see which ones we can take back to the cabin.”

“Okay,” Percy said, setting the crab he was holding back into the bucket. But not before it got one last snap in.

“And Percy…” Paul said.

“Ya,” Percy replied, nursing his pinched finger.

“Please put some gloves on,” Paul said, offering the boy a pair of leather work gloves.

*****

Percy rushed into the cabin with their bucket in hand. “Mom, look! They’re blue!” he exclaimed.

Sally looked up from the book she was reading to look into the bucket, “They certainly are, sweetie.” She looked over at Paul. “Looks like you two had a pretty successful trip.”

“What can I say? Crabs like sardines,” Paul said, shedding his winter coat. “That or they all came to see Percy.”

“I told you,” Percy said, putting the bucket down just long enough to shed his winter wear, “crabs aren’t that smart. They mostly just follow their stomachs.”

“If you say so. You should probably bring them to the kitchen so we can clean them,” Paul said, grabbing some newspaper. He gave Sally an apologetic look, “We’ll try not to make the cabin smell like crab offal.”

“That would be appreciated,” she said, standing and giving him a kiss. “How about I start a cooking fire while you show Percy how to safely clean your catch.”

“Oh come on, Mom!” Came Percy’s voice from the kitchen. “You act like I’ve never used a blade before.”

“Uh-huh,” Sally said. “And how many times have those crabs pinched you already?”

There was silence from the kitchen.

“That’s what I thought,” Sally said.

Paul chuckled, “ I’ll make sure he stays safe.”

“I know you will,” Sally said softly, before heading out to start the fire.

Paul entered the kitchen to see his stepson staring thoughtfully into their bucket of crabs. “Having second thoughts?” he asked.

“What? No,” Percy said. “Just trying to figure out what we’re doing.” Percy looked up at him with concern. “We’re not cooking them alive, are we? I know they’re not very smart, but that still seems kinda cruel. And trusr me, being cooked alive is not fun.”

Paul tried to suppress the flash of worry that came with the knowledge that his stepson knew how it felt to be cooked alive. That train of thought would not be helpful right now.

“We’re not cooking them alive,” Paul reassured him. “I’ll show you how to kill them quickly and fairly painlessly.”

Percy nodded, “That I can manage. At least, that’s what I’m used to.” Percy rubbed his hands together. “So, what do we do first?”

“I’m going to start covering the table with newspaper,” Paul said. “You’re going to put your gloves back on.”

“Do I have to?” Percy whined.

“Yes,” Paul said, laying out newspaper. “I really don’t want to take you to the ER because you accidentally stabbed yourself when the crabs pinch you again.”

“How do you know they’re going to pinch me again?” Percy asked, pulling on his work gloves.

“Don’t you fight back when something’s trying to eat you?” Paul asked.

“Fair enough,” Percy conceded, helping Paul cover the table.

Once they’d covered the table and gathered their shucking knives, Paul grabbed one of the crabs from the bucket. The crab waved its legs, trying to snap at Paul’s hands through his gloves, unwilling to go down without a fight.

“Now look here, Percy,” Paul said, flipping the crab over. “See this seam in the middle of the crab’s belly? That’s a chink in the crab’s armor. If you take your knife and stab at that seam right near its head, it’ll kill the crab pretty quickly. Then you just use the flat of your knife to pop open its belly.”

“And then we clean out the guts?” Percy asked.

“Well, yes,” Paul said. “And the gills and reproductive organs. Here, why don’t I do this first one and show you?”

Percy watched as Paul killed and cleaned a few crabs before attempting one of his own.

In things that probably shouldn’t have been surprising, it turns out Percy was a natural at it, cleaning the crabs with a level of skill and ease that a sixty five year old crabber would be envious of.

Soon enough two of them were washing out the sand and debris, and checking the crabs over for parasites before declaring their bowl of crabs ready for cooking.

Armed with potatoes, tin foil, butter, and tongs to go along with their crabs, they made their way outside to the cooking fire Sally had built.

“The fire isn’t quite hot enough but it’s close,” Sally said. She ruffled Percy’s hair, “You boys have a good time?”

“Ya,” Percy said, setting their cooking supplies on a nearby bench. “Kinda smelly and gross, but it was fun.”

“I’ll go clean up the kitchen table,” Paul said. “We really don’t want that offal in there for too long.”

“I’ll do it!” Percy volunteered. “Can I feed the crab guts to the fish?”

“Sure. If you want to. Go for it,” Paul said, a bit surprised.

“You just want an excuse to spend more time in the ocean,” Sally said with amusement.

“Duh,” Percy said, heading back into the cabin. “Besides, it’s not like the temperature bothers me.”

Sally and Paul chuckled as they watched Percy race back into the cabin. He was back out shortly with a newspaper bundle full of crab offal. Paul couldn’t help but watch with wonder as his stepson walked into the water as easily as if he was walking on land and not chest-deep into a dark and frightfully cold ocean.

“It really is something to see how comfortable he is in the water, huh?” Sally said, from where she was preparing the potatoes.

“Ya, ya it is,” Paul replied, folding the tin foil around the crabs. “I’m glad that there are parts of his father’s side of things that he can enjoy.”

“Me too,” Sally said, slightly bittersweet.

The carefully wrapped potatoes and crabs were already roasting in the coals by the time Percy returned, not even the slightest bit wet.

“You have fun, sweetie?” Sally asked as her son settled down beside her.

“Ya,” Percy said. “The fish loved the crab guts. Too bad it’s the wrong time of the year for sharks because I bet they would have loved it too.”

And since Sally didn’t appear alarmed by that statement, Paul decided he wasn’t going to worry about it either.

“Glad to hear that, sport,” Paul said, using the tongs to turn the crabs and potatoes.

“Is dinner ready yet?” Percy asked.

“Not quite,” Paul said, putting down the tongs. “The potatoes still need to soften a bit more and the crabs aren’t quite red yet.”

“What! They don’t stay blue!” Percy exclaimed.

“Afraid not, sport,” Paul said, sitting down next to his wife and stepson.

“Then what’s even the point of them being blue?” Percy huffed.

Sally chuckled at his antics and gave him a kiss on the temple.

“Hmmm,” Paul considered. “If you want we can brainstorm ways to make them blue again while we wait for them to finish cooking?”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Sally said.

“Okay,” Percy said, snuggling closer to his mom. “I’ll go first. Mix blue food coloring into the butter.”

Sally and Paul laughed, and together the three of them passed the time with increasingly silly cooking suggestions.

Chapter Text

It was about a week after Percy had come home for the school year when he plopped down on the couch next to Paul and said, “So, when were you going to tell me that you knew sword fighting?”

“Well, I know stage fighting,” Paul clarified. “And uh… It didn’t occur to me to tell you about my theater days.”

“Well your stage fighting is good enough for you to hold your own against a dracanae,” Percy commented. “Like you definitely know the basics of sword fighting.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Paul said. “Why are you looking for a sparring partner?”

“Depends on how serious your offer is,” Percy responded, matching Paul’s lightly teasing tone.

Paul looked at Percy, “How serious do you want it to be?”

*****

Paul thought it was a good idea. Percy looked like he didn’t quite agree.

Percy looked down at the stick in his hand and then up at Paul. “Are you sure about this?” the boy asked with trepidation.

“You’ve mentioned before that you miss having someone to spar with during the school year,” Paul said. “I know my experience stage fighting isn’t quite the same as what you’re used to, but it might be worth a shot. At least, it might give you more options.”

Percy gave a few experimental swipes of his stick and looked out over the rest of the Great Lawn.

They’d decided to take their friendly sparring bout to Central Park for a few reasons. First and foremost, Sally had a very understandable rule against using deadly weapons in the apartment. (Apparently Sally used to have a china cabinet.) Secondly, there was plenty of space to move around, and a high school teacher and his teenaged stepson sparring would be one of the least weird things going on in the park. Plus, the Ramble would have plenty of good vaguely sword sized sticks for them to start with, instead of using Anaklusmos and Paul’s old prop sword.

“Paul, you know there’s one pretty important difference in the ways that we were taught sword fighting, right?” Percy asked, still looking out at the people picnicking and running around the ball diamonds. “Like, you were taught how not to hurt your opponent. I was taught to at least maim, if not kill my opponent.”

“I know, sport,” Paul said gently. “But Percy, I trust you. If you can pull your punches with Dixon, I have no doubt that we can spar without either one of us getting hurt. Or we can do something else if you’d like. Your call.”

“No,” Percy said quickly. “No, I– Just give me a second to warm up.” Percy gestured with his stick. “This is a lot lighter than my sword. Give me a second to adjust.”

“Sure thing, sport,” Paul said, adopting an overly dramatic pose with his own stick on the ready.

As he had been hoping, that drew a laugh out of his stepson. Paul watched as Percy worked through a clearly well-practiced series of moves; the dodges, swipes, and stabs drilled into the teenager’s muscle memory.

After a few minutes Percy said, “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Well okay,” Paul started. “Then let’s–”

Percy swung his stick and lightly tapped Paul on the shoulder right next to his neck. “Dead,” he said.

“--Begin,” Paul finished. “Give me a bit more heads up, sport. Otherwise I don’t stand a chance.”

“You definitely don’t stand a chance,” Percy agreed, a smile on his face. “And I did give you a heads up. I told you I was ready.”

“Yes, yes you did,” Paul agreed, raising his stick. “Ready to go again?”

Percy responded by swinging at Paul again. This time Paul was expecting it and just managed to block it. Percy hummed in approval, and swung again.

Over the course of the sparring match, Paul got the feeling that Percy was mostly just playing with him, letting him get in a few swipes here and there (though they never got anywhere close to touching Percy) between blocking. That was okay. He never expected to be anywhere close to his stepson’s level of swordsmanship. After all, he hadn’t had to rely on his sword skills just to stay alive the way Percy had for the past four years. Paul was just glad to have found something else he could do with Percy, something that Percy seemed to enjoy if the smile on his face was anything to go by.

Eventually, one of the hits broke Paul’s stick. Percy pulled back almost before Paul had time to register what happened.

Paul looked down at the broken end of his stick, “I think we’re done for the day, sport.”

“Ya,” Percy agreed, also looking at the broken stick, expression much more serious than it had been the whole time they had been sparring. “Ya, we’re done.”

“I’m okay, Percy,” Paul reassured his stepson. “Did you have fun?”

“Uh, ya,” Percy said, shaking himself out of the brief funk he’d sunk into.

“Then we should do this again sometime,” Paul said, reaching out for Percy’s stick. Percy passed it to him, and Paul tossed the sticks into the treeline nearby. “Perhaps next time we should use something stronger than these sticks so they don’t break on us.” Paul suggested as he started heading south.

“I don’t have an extra sword I could lend you,” Percy said, shoving his hands in his pockets and following Paul.

“No, but I have my own,” Paul replied.

“I’m not sure your prop sword is that much better, Paul” Percy said, scattering a flock of pigeons.

“It’s made out of metal, just like your sword,” Paul said. “It’s just blunt.”

Percy shook his head. “I don’t think that matters much. I’ve cut through armor before. And my sword’s probably much heavier than yours. I really don’t want to break your sword, Paul.”

“Well then, I guess we can keep using sticks then,” Paul said, calmly. “At least, we’ll know to expect them possibly breaking next time.”

“Ya, next time,” Percy said, a faint smile coming back to his face.

*****

They only managed to get in a few more matches as the school year wore on.

While Paul wasn’t a match for Percy, it did seem to cheer the boy up, more play fighting than training, a way to engage with his heritage in a way that was fun, instead of life threatening. Paul tried to offer it when Percy clearly had a hard day at school, if only because it seemed to give him a good outlet and boost his morale to do something he was clearly skilled at.

And then December came, and Percy was gone.

*****
Paul and Sally weren’t quite sure what had happened to Percy these past nine months, but it had clearly shaken him pretty badly. It wasn’t hard to notice that, despite how hard he tried to play it off when the sun was up, that even though Percy was home, he didn’t feel safe. Paul and Sally had caught him quite a few times stuck back wherever this quest, this war had taken him.

Especially at night. And it seemed that this night would be no different.

Sally and Paul had taken to alternating nights, to make sure at least someone in the household was operating on a full night's sleep each day.. One of them would get to sleep, while the other coaxed Percy into at least resting.

Paul flicked on the living room light, and did his best to appear calm as his stepson stopped his pacing and quickly turned in his direction, armed and ready.

“Hey kiddo,” Paul said. “Sorry for startling you. I just thought I heard you moving about and figured I should check on you.”

Percy blinked at him slowly, his face a mixture of paranoia and exhaustion. He lowered his sword. “Paul?” he asked.

“Ya kiddo, it’s me,” Paul confirmed, taking a step towards Percy. When the (understandably) jumpy teenager didn’t flinch or tense up, Paul continued walking over until he was standing next to his stepson.

This close it was easy to sleep the bags under his stepson’s eyes, the tired hunch of his shoulders, the new scars tracing over the boy’s skin. Paul tried not to linger on those. He noted with some small comfort that at least Percy had managed to put on pjs tonight.. “You look tired, kiddo. Have you gotten any sleep?” Paul asked.

“Ummm…” Percy said, looking at Paul as if he was trying to place him. “Ya. I guess. Some,” he said carefully. “What time is it?”

“About half past three,” Paul said softly.

“Where’s Mom?” Percy asked, his grip on his sword tensing and loosening.

“She’s sleeping. She’s safe,” Paul said. “You’re safe. We’re all safe.”

Percy stood there, quietly digesting that information. The tip of his sword twitched but stayed pointed at the ground.

“Would you like some tea, kiddo? I think we have some of that spiced black tea that you like.” Paul said, hoping the caffeine would make his ADHD stepson tired enough to sleep instead of riling up his anxiety.

“Tea?” Percy asked.

“Ya, kiddo,” Paul said softly. “I can go make some. You can follow me into the kitchen if you’d like or stay out here. I’ll leave the light on. Sound like a plan, kiddo?”

Percy blinked at him some more before saying, “...Sure?”

“Okay, I’ll be in the kitchen if you want to join me,” Paul said, before turning his back to the jumpy armed teenager. On his way to the kitchen he thought to add, “I’m going to use the microwave, okay kiddo? It’ll be faster than the kettle.”

Percy didn’t answer him, but as Paul was pulling out the mugs, he noticed that Percy had followed him, positioning himself in the kitchen doorway where he could watch both the kitchen and living room at the same time. Paul continued what he was doing under Percy’s watchful gaze. He pulled out the tea bags (black tea for Percy, chicory for himself), filled the mugs with water, placed them in the microwave and started them heating. Percy tracking his movements the whole time. But his sword stayed down at his side. Progress.

Paul knew that Anaklusmos couldn’t hurt him, but he wasn’t sure how well Percy remembered that in his state. Still it was gratifying that Percy wasn’t actively on guard around him, even as paranoia, anxious, and scared as he obviously was.

However, that didn’t mean that the beeping of the microwave didn’t startle the poor kid. At least, Percy only whipped his sword up as if to block an incoming blow instead of attacking the microwave.

“Sorry kiddo,” Paul said, opening the microwave and removing the steaming mugs. “I should have warned you that it was getting close to finishing.”

Percy just continued to look at the microwave, arms raised to fend off an attack, breathing heavily.

Paul put the teabags in their respective mugs. “It’s okay Percy,” he said softly. “It’s not going to attack. The tea will be ready in a few minutes. Okay?”

Percy didn’t relax his stance, his breathing didn’t slow, but he did look away from the microwave and towards Paul. “What?” he rasped.

“We’re making tea, at home, in the apartment,” Paul gently reminded his stepson. “It’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

“Oh,” Percy said, still breathing heavily, but less frenzied. His arms lowered somewhat, halfway between on the ready and on guard.

“Would you like me to bring it over for you to watch or would you like me to stay here and determine the doneness for you?” Paul asked, trying to distract the teenager.

“Um…” Percy swallowed hard, clearly trying to get his breathing under control. “Um, you can, uh, bring it over here,” he finally decided.

“Okay,” Paul said, picking up the mugs. “I’m coming over.”

Percy just watched him carefully as Paul moved closer and set down the mugs on the counter where Percy could see them.

“There,” Paul said. He looked at his stepson who was still tense, still shaken. “It’s okay, Percy. You’re going to be okay. You’re safe now, kiddo.”

Percy quickly up at him, before his eyes started darting around the kitchen and living room. The boy roughly shook his head, his grip tightening on his sword.

“No?” Paul asked gently. “Okay. What would help you feel safe then? Because Percy, I promise you are safe.”

“I don’t know,” Percy said, his voice strained. “I don’t know, Paul.”

“Okay,” Paul said, picking the tea bag out of his own mug. “Let’s start with something else then. What are you worried about? Being attacked?”

Percy nodded, adjusting his grip on his sword. At least, it was down at his side now, even if it wasn’t pointed downwards. And his breathing was calmer. That was something.

“Okay,” Paul said. “Okay. I can stay with you while we drink our tea together. We can move somewhere more comfortable for you than the kitchen doorway. I can get my sword and keep guard for you. Any of those sound good?”

“Ya,” Percy forced out. “Ya. Um, Paul?” Percy looked pleadingly at his mug and then back at Paul.

“Is it done?” Paul asked. After Percy nodded, Paul continued, “Okay. I’ll get the tea and you tell me where we’re going okay?”

“The couch?” Percy said, as Paul removed the last teabag.

“Okay,” Paul said, and made his way over to the couch, Percy following behind. He set down the mugs on the end table. “Okay, I’m going to go get my sword now. I’ll be right back, Percy. Okay?”

Percy stood awkwardly by the couch, sword pointed down. He looked down at the mugs, then at Paul, and then the door. “Okay,” he said.

“I’ll be right back,” Paul repeated, before heading to his and Sally’s room as quietly as possible. He crept in, checked that his wife was still sleeping, and quietly grabbed his prop sword from the closet.

Now, his sword was a prop. He knew that. Percy also knew that, although, again, Paul wasn’t sure if he remembered that. But it was a nice prop sword, heavy and made of metal. And while it was way too blunt to cut anything, in a pinch it was functionally similar to a metal baseball bat. Paul figured that its shape and weight might help put Percy at ease.

Paul made his way back out to the couch where Percy was waiting. He hadn’t moved, just looking around, scanning the room. Paul cleared his throat, and Percy looked his way.

“Got my sword,” Paul said, lifting the sword up, blade pointed down. He grabbed Percy’s mug with his free hand and offered it to the boy. Once Percy took it, Paul grabbed his own mug and settled on the couch, laying his blade across his lap, resting his free hand on the hilt.

Percy looked on, and then followed suit. He let go of his own sword to rest it on his lap, and snuggled closer to Paul.

“There,” Paul said. “It’s okay. You’re safe, Percy. I’ve got you. You can drink your tea and rest.”

“I’m safe. I’m okay,” Percy repeated uncertainly, gripping his mug hard.

“You sure are, kiddo,” Paul said, taking a drink.

“Hmmm,” Percy hummed, and started drinking his tea.

The two of them lapsed into a comfortable silence. And, eventually, Percy fell asleep, leaning against Paul, empty mug still cradled in his hand.

Paul smiled, and carefully took Percy’s sword and rested it against the couch where his stepson could still reach it but it wouldn’t accidentally cut him. He took the empty mug from his sleeping stepson and set it on the end table. Then Paul pulled a blanket over the two of them.

“Goodnight, Percy,” he whispered, then settled down to sleep.

Chapter Text

As he climbed into the passenger seat of the ambulance, Paul thought about how this afternoon had not gone as planned. What was supposed to be a fairly mundane Friday leading up to an exciting weekend had turned into a parent’s nightmare.

Maybe the timing had been a bit too convenient for his little family, and the gods or the fates or whomever couldn’t let that stand.

It had started off as planned. Sally had dropped off Estelle on her way to work and Paul had gone to Goode prepared to teach on the “half-day” schedule (not a real half-day like they used to have, mind you. Just a day where the students got out two hours earlier.) This was followed by a faculty wide meeting to discuss the new grade-entering software that the administration had decided to implement three weeks before the end of the school year. (Why couldn’t they have waited until summer? This took away from teaching time and made things unnecessarily complicated and stressful right before final grades were due.)

Despite the meeting, Paul had still gotten off of work early. He had planned to pick up Estelle, and take her over to Sweet on America, so that she could help him pick out candy for Percy, who was supposed to come home from college for the summer late that night. (And get some candy for her too. Paul wasn’t going to get candy for one of his kids and not the other.) Then they would head home so Paul could get started working on dinner before Sally came home from work.

Of course, his plans had been derailed when Percy skated up next to him just outside of Goode.

“Hey Paul,” Percy said, nearly making Paul jump out of his skin.

“Percy!” Paul said. “What are you doing here?”

“There were less monsters on the road than I expected,” Percy admitted. “Which means I got home closer to when GoogleMaps said I would. I called Mom to ask if I could pick up Estelle, and she said that you had a short day and might already be on your way over to pick her up, so I decided to stop by and see.”

“Well, it looks like you caught me right on time. I was just heading over there. Want to join me?” Paul asked, already knowing the answer.

Percy visibly brightened. “Yes,” he said.

So off they had headed to the subway station, Paul walking, Percy riding his skateboard beside him, catching up from the last few months spent apart. Everything had been great… until Percy had been hit by a car as they were crossing the street.

It was always a potential hazard of being in New York City. Too many people and too many cars in too small an area meant that using crosswalks and walking signals was often no safer than just crossing the street whenever and wherever it looked clear. It was just a fact of life living in Manhattan. But that didn’t mean people racing around the corner of Bryant Park was expected and it didn’t make it any easier when it was your kid who got hurt because of it.

It was all so fast that Paul hadn’t registered much of what had happened. And frankly, once he saw Percy on the ground, clutching his chest and bleeding, his skateboard broken beside him, Paul was more concerned with calling 911 than getting the make, model, and license plate number of the car. (Thank the gods, literally, that Percy’s insurance wouldn’t ask for that.)

“You’re going to be okay, kiddo,” Paul said once the dispatcher had told him that an ambulance was on its way.

“Don’t feel okay,” Percy managed. “Feels like a broken rib. Why is it harder to breathe than it usually is with a broken rib?”

“I don’t know, kiddo,” Paul said, filing away Percy’s familiarity with these kinds of injuries to process later. Paul stipped off his jacket. “Just do your best to keep breathing until the ambulance gets here. And let’s keep some pressure on those wounds.”

Paul pressed his jacket to where Percy’s chest was bleeding. Percy groaned in pain.

“Sorry Percy,” Paul said as sirens approached from the distance.

Soon enough an ambulance pulled up, and paramedics took over medical treatment from Paul, all while asking a million questions (“Can we treat you? What’s your name and date of birth? What happened? Who do you have with you, Perseus?”, etc.) Paul tried to stay as close as he could without getting in the way, both to support Percy and help answer questions.

Eventually, while they were strapping Percy into the gurney, one of the paramedics said, “Pulse is at 64; blood oxygen is at 83.”

“Get him some oxygen,” another paramedic replied. “Antonia, get him started on an iv.” The paramedic turned to Percy, “We’re going to take you to the hospital now, Perseus, okay?”
Percy pulled down the oxygen mask. “Paul?” he croaked.

The paramedic, Antonia, placed the oxygen mask back on Percy’s face. “Don’t worry, Perseus. Your stepfather is going to ride up front with my partner, Hoyt.”

“Percy,” Paul corrected. “He goes by Percy.”

“Percy, got it,” Antonia said, before pushing the gurney into the back of the ambulance. Paul caught one last glance of Percy looking worriedly at him before the ambulance doors closed.

“Let’s go,” Hoyt said, heading to the driver’s seat of the ambulance. Once Paul had followed and gotten buckled into the passenger side, Hoyt started driving. “We’re taking him to Sacred Coeur Hospital. If there is anyone you need to tell, you call them now,” Hoyt said as he navigated the streets of Manhattan.

“Right,” Paul said, pulled out his phone, and pressed the one on his speed dial. As soon as Sally picked up, he said, “Sally, I’m sorry but you’re going to have to pick up Estelle…”

*****

The ER was a mix of frantic activity and tense lulls.

Shortly after arriving clip boards had been shoved into Percy and Paul’s hands, Percy to sign consent to treat and release of information to Paul forms, Paul to try and fill out Percy’s medical history. Medical staff focussed on getting Percy hooked up to various medical devices, asking him his name and birthdate again, cutting off his shirt, getting him into a hospital gown, and making sure he was stable.

Once that was done, one of the nurses handed Paul a plastic bag. “For his personal items,” she explained. “We’re going to try to get him into imaging soon. Try to finish that before we take him back for x rays,” she said, gesturing towards the clipboard in Paul’s hand.

She turned to Percy, “If you need anything just press this button,” She placed the call button near Percy’s hand.

“Water? ” Percy managed to say.

“I can’t give you water, Perseus,” the nurse explained. “Not until we determine whether or not you need anesthesia.”

“Percy,” Percy corrected.

“Right, Percy,” the nurse agreed, and then left Percy and Paul alone.

Paul immediately pulled a chair over to sit by Percy’s side, “How are you feeling, kiddo?”

“Ow,” Percy said flatly. “Thirsty… Can’t… catch… my breath.”

“Ya, that sounds about right,” Paul said. “Try to breathe through your nose. You’ll get more oxygen that way.”

Percy took a deep breath, and Paul tried not to show how worried he was about how labored Percy’s breathing still was.

It was strange enough to see his stepson so still and vulnerable looking, hooked up to wires and tubes to monitor him and keep him stable. Logically, Paul knew that Percy had been badly injured many times before, but the worst had always been while Percy was at Camp, under the expert medical care of Chiron, trainer of heroes and inventor of surgery. Every one of Percy’s injuries that Paul had seen had been able to be fixed with a magic first aid kit, water, ambrosia and nectar, and time.

This was different. This felt so much more serious than any supernatural injury Percy had ever gotten.

“At least they stopped your bleeding, kiddo,” Paul said, trying to be comforting. “Don’t worry. They’ll get you all patched up.”

Percy took another deep breath and reached out his hand. “Paul?” he asked.

Paul grabbed his hand, and started rubbing circles into the back of it with his thumb, “I’m right here, kiddo. I’m not leaving you.”

Paul waited for Percy to relax, and settle into the hospital bed, before turning back to the clipboard balanced on his leg. “Now I know your mom’s side of your family medical history, but I’m not quite sure what to put down for your father’s side,” he said.

“Alcoholism,” Percy forced out. “Incest.”

“Do you really want me to put down incest?” Paul asked, writing down ADHD, Dyslexia and childhood abuse. “I know it’s technically true, but I thought it wasn’t medically relevant due to the gods’ lack of DNA.”

“No, guess not,” Percy said.

“Okay, “Paul said. “Relevant injuries? Besides having previously broken your ribs?”

Percy gave Paul a look of exhaustion.

“I know, kiddo,” Paul said, giving Percy’s hand a squeeze. “Breathing’s hard for you right now. But I want to make sure they take care of you correctly. Just take your time answering, okay?”

“Hmmm,” Percy hummed in agreement.

“Okay,” Paul said, waiting for his stepson to be ready so he could begin writing.

*****
Percy’s x rays came back. In addition to three broken ribs, some chest lacerations and a lot of splinters from his broken skateboard was the reason that Percy was having so much trouble breathing. One of his broken ribs had punctured one of his lungs, and it was partially collapsed.

Which meant one thing. Percy needed emergency surgery.

Another rush of medical staff, surgeon, anesthesiologist, resident assistants, surgical nurses all trying to get Percy prepped as quickly as possible. The rest of Percy’s clothes joined his ruined shirt in the plastic bag, guidelines drawn with marker on his chest. He was wiped down with wet wipes and an anti-nausea patch was placed behind his ear.

In one of the few moments of privacy they got, Percy managed to call out, “Paul?”

“I’m right here, kiddo,” Paul said. “What do you need?”

“Hold… on… for me?” Percy asked. In his hand was his pen, Riptide, and his camp necklace.

“Of course,” Paul said, taking Percy’s hand in his own hands. “I’ll make sure they get back to you, Percy.”

“Thanks,” Percy forced out.

Shortly after the surgical nurse came, and took him away.

*****

Sally and Estelle met Paul in the waiting room.

“How is he?” Sally asked, while getting Estelle set up with paper and crayons.

“In surgery,” Paul said. “One of his lungs is punctured and was collapsing. They’re probably going to have to admit him after surgery. But they’d gotten him stable before they took him back.”

“Percy’s really hurt, isn’t he?” Estelle asked.

“Yes, baby,” Sally said. “But the doctors are fixing him up.”

“They’re taking good care of him,” Paul agreed, trying to reassure Sally as much as their daughter.

“Hmm,” Estelle frowned at her drawing.

“He’ll be okay,” Sally said.

Paul nodded, and looked back at the pen and necklace in his hand. “Of all the things to put Percy in the hospital, I can’t believe it was something as normal as a car.”

“He’s just as human as he is divine,” Sally said. “But yes, I know what you mean.”

“Can we see Percy now?” Estelle asked.

“Not yet, kiddo,” Paul said. “We have to wait for the doctor to come get us.”

“Hmph,” Estelle pouted.

“I know, kiddo,” Paul said, and settled in next to his daughter and wife, waiting to hear more about how their son was doing.

*****

Where was he? What had happened? Why was he so cold?

Percy took a deep breath, and felt his chest ache. Drakon. Hurt. Hospital. He reached up a hand to touch his chest. Paul.

Percy forced his eyes open. Why was it so hard to wake up? Where was Paul? Where was he?

Percy groaned.

Someone asked him, “How are you feeling, Perseus?”

“Paul,” he forced out. “Where’s Paul?”

“Who’s Paul?” the person asked him.

“Stepdad,” Percy managed. Panic was starting to wake him up. “Where’s Paul? I want Paul.”

“In a little bit,” the person, nurse? said. “We need you to wake up some more first.”

“No,” Percy groaned. Why couldn’t he keep his eyes open? “I want… Paul.”

“You’ll see your stepfather soon,” the person said. “Now, how are you feeling, Perseus?”

Percy wanted to keep arguing. This person didn’t understand. If a monster found him now, he was as good as dead. He couldn’t fight as hurt and tired as he was. But Paul wouldn’t let anything happen to him. He had shown time and time again that he would fight to protect Percy against things he couldn’t really see.

But arguing clearly wasn’t getting him anywhere. Besides, he was so tired. Percy almost fell back asleep before he answered the question. “Tired,” he said. “Cold, sore.”

“I’ll get you an ice pack and a warm blanket,” the person said. “Just rest.”

That sounded like a good idea to Percy. Rest.

He was woken up a bit later to a beeping sound, a warm blanket wrapped around him and something cold on his chest.

“I need you to take a few deep breaths for me,” someone told Percy. They adjusted the cannula in his nose.

Oh right, he was in the hospital. Percy listened and took some deep breaths. The ache in his chest had gone down. The beeping stopped.

“Good job, Perseus,” the person said. “I need you to keep doing that for me.”

Percy forced his eyes open again. He was in some sort of room with a bunch of other patients.

“Paul?” he asked. “Can I see Paul?”

“Soon,” the person said. “They’re getting your room ready. Then you’ll get to see your stepfather. Now, how is your pain on a scale from 1 to 10?”

Compared to everything else he’d been through? “Two,” Percy said.

“That’s good,” the person (Percy was pretty sure they were a nurse) said. “Are you still cold?”

“No,” Percy said.

“Good,” the nurse said. “Is there anything else you need?”

“Water,” Percy said. “A pillow to hug.”

“I’ll get you a pillow,” the nurse said. “You can have water once you get to your room.”

Percy grumbled unhappily. He closed his eyes. He was still so tired.

Soon enough the nurse was back with his pillow, helping him hug it while still staying covered. And they had news.

“Your room’s ready,” the nurse said. “Would you like your family to meet you there?”

“Family?” Percy asked. Only Paul had come to the hospital with him.

“Your mother and sister arrived while you were in surgery,” the nurse explained as they started moving his bed. “Would you like to see them too?”

“Ya,” Percy said.

“Okay, we’ll bring them up too,” the nurse said.

*****

With the help of the nurse, Percy had managed to drink a small cup of water before his family made it to his room. His mom and Paul looked relieved to see him, while Estelle stared at him with wide eyes.

“Percy,” His mom breathed out. “How are you doing, baby?”

“Tired,” Percy said. “Annoyed.”

“Annoyed?” Paul asked.

“Ya, they put a tube in my chest and now I have to stay in the hospital,” Percy huffed.

“The tube that’s keeping your lungs from collapsing while the hole in your lung heals?” his mom said, raising an eyebrow. “That tube?”

“Why do you have to make it sound so sensible?” Percy groaned.

“Because, unfortunately kiddo, that’s probably the best thing for you right now,” Paul said.

“They put a tube in you!” Estelle said, looking at Percy worriedly.

“Oh,” Percy said. “Ya.”

“It’s okay, Estelle,” Paul comforted her. “It’s helping Percy heal.”

“Ya,” Percy chimed in. “I’m okay, Estelle. It’s just annoying.”

His mom gave him a look, before telling Estelle, “Why don’t you draw Percy a picture to help him feel better?”

Estelle cast him a suspicious glance. Then she crawled into a hospital chair with her crayons and paper. “Okay,” she said.

“You sure you’re not in any pain, baby?” his mom asked.

“Ya,” Percy reassured his parents. “They gave me an ice pack and some oxytocin before you got here.”

“That’s good to hear. And here… I have something to return to you,” Paul said, placing Riptide and Percy’s camp necklace into Percy’s hand.

“Anaklusmos, my necklace,” Percy said, a small smile spreading on his face.

“Here,” his mom said, taking the necklace out Percy’s hand and reaching over to tie it around his neck.

“Thanks,” Percy said.

“Feel better?” his mom asked.

“More like myself,” Percy said. Then he looked at the pen in his hand and reached out to grab Paul’s hand. Percy put the pen in his hand and closed his fingers around it.

“Um, kiddo?” Paul asked.

“I can’t fight,” Percy explained. “Not like this. And you’re pretty good with a sword for someone who has very limited training. Can you watch my back for a little longer?”

“Of course,” Paul said. “I’ll do my best. Though I don’t know how good I’ll be at spotting monsters.” He chuckled a bit awkwardly.

“Didn’t stop you from getting in a good hit on that drakon earlier,” Percy said, settling back into his hospital bed, closing his eyes.

“What are you talking about?” Paul asked.

Percy opened his eyes to see Paul giving him a confused look. His mom gave him a knowing look, while handing Estelle another piece of paper to draw on.

“The drakon,” Percy said, “In Bryant Park.”

“I think I might have missed that, kiddo,” Paul said apologetically. “I got a bit distracted when you got hit by a car.”

“Oh,” Percy said. He swallowed. “Oh. Sorry Paul. Gods, this must be so confusing for you.”

“It’s okay, Percy,” Paul said. “The Mist isn’t something you have control over. What are the odds of you getting into both a car crash and a monster attack?”

“No,” Percy said. “Paul… There was no car. The drakon hurt me. Probably would have killed me if you hadn’t been there.”

Paul looked away in confusion, his eyes darting back and forth, as if trying to decipher an invisible book.

Percy felt bad for Paul. He remembered how confusing and scary it was to not remember what had happened, what he had done. But unlike Percy, Paul wouldn’t get this memory back. It had been overwritten with a false one. The only way Paul would know what really happened is if he chose to believe Percy, despite the magically-fabricated evidence to the contrary.

“Oh…Well…” Paul eventually said. “I’m glad to learn that I could be of some help, sport. I quite like having you around.”

Percy smiled. Paul really was the best stepparent ever.

“Does that mean Percy’s coming home with us?” Estelle said.

“No, sweetie,” his mom said. “He needs to stay here a bit longer to heal.”

“Ya,” Percy teased. “Didn’t mom tell you that you all are moving in here until I get better?”

“What! No!” Estelle said. “I’m not living here. It’s boring.” She glared down at her picture. “And ugly.” She looked up at Percy and said, very seriously, “You’re going to need more pictures.”

Percy and their parents laughed at that.

“Alright,” Percy said. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Chapter Text

Paul had seen some strange things in his life. What, between his college theater days and just living in New York City, a certain degree of weirdness was kind of part of the norm. Maybe that was part of why Sally and Percy’s casual acceptance of Ancient Greek Mythological weirdness wasn’t as earth shattering as he was afraid it might be.

Honestly, Paul had thought that it was going to take him a bit longer to adjust to hearing his new wife and stepson discuss Percy getting a ride from (his pet? friend?) a pegasus as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Though he supposed for them, and now him, it was.

And, of course, maybe the Mist was helping to ease him into it.

Paul didn’t really understand the Mist, but that was okay, because Percy and Sally didn’t seem to completely understand it either. All he knew was that it was a magic force that covered up mythological things by making them appear to be something that the observer expected to see. Like making a vampiric monster appear to be an average cheerleader for example.

What Paul didn’t understand was how the Mist decided who could see the mythological truth versus the fabricated reality. Why could Sally, a wonderful but completely human person, able to completely see through the Mist with such ease? Especially considering Percy, someone who was born a part of the mythological world, was often still fooled by it, at least temporarily. Paul’s own ability to see through the Mist, or rather the lack thereof, was the only part of this that seemed to follow some sort of logic.

Paul had spent his whole life with monsters and gods and heroes milling around in the city around him and had never been any wiser to it until Sally and Percy had told him point blank that there were monsters and gods and heroes all around him. Heck, he’d had monsters as students, met a god, and had spent the past year bonding with a hero without suspecting they were anything other than just ordinary people.

But now that Paul knew they were out there (or living with him), he sometimes caught glimpses of what was really going on. After all, the Mist made you see what you expected. And if you were expecting to see heroes and gods and monsters… Well, sometimes you sort of would.

Like last weekend for instance. After getting home from school on Friday, Percy had gone straight to his room. Paul had figured that the teenager just wanted to rest before dinner. He hadn’t expected for the boy to come rushing out of his room twenty minutes later in full Greek armor, duffel bag over his shoulder and helmet under his arm, looking every inch the hero he claimed to be.

“Bye Mom. Bye Paul,” Percy called out, heading for the door. “I’ll be back on Sunday, promise.”

“Just where do you think you’re going?” Sally asked, stopping her chopping momentarily to give her son a look.

Percy paused. “I have a battle mission this weekend. With some of the kids from cabins seven and eleven,” Percy explained. “Didn’t I tell you about this?”

“Yes,” Sally replied, continuing on with the cooking, “But did you really think I’d let you go rushing off into battle without dinner?”

“Moooom,” Percy complained.

“Your mom’s right, Percy,” Paul said, measuring out some rice and trying to remind himself that this was actually perfectly normal.

“Sit,” Sally said, “I’ll heat you up some leftovers.”

Percy sighed with exasperation, but obediently sat down at the kitchen table, armor clattering around him. Honestly, Paul found it kind of impressive that the teenager could manage to slouch in his bronze breastplate and backplate.

Paul continued cooking his and Sally’s dinner, while Sally fussed over her son.

“Do you have your ambrosia and nectar?”

“Yes, mom.”

“And extra drachmas? Paul and I’s phone numbers?”

“Yes.”

“Extra clothes? Deodorant?”

“Moooom!”

“You should try not to neglect your hygiene, even if you are in the middle of a war,” Sally kissed Percy’s head, and handed him a bag of cookies. “I just want you to be taken care of, baby. And share those with your friends, okay?”

Percy softened from annoyed teenager to a kid who was just glad he was being cared for. “I know, mama,” he said, digging into his leftover pasta. “I will.”

“Good,” Sally said, ruffling his hair.

All in all, a fairly normal conversation between a parent and teenager who was going out for the weekend, if you ignored a few details.

Soon enough, Percy was putting his plate in the dishwasher and hefting his duffel bag once again.

“Stay safe, Percy,” Paul said, patting his stepson on the shoulder.

“Uh, I’ll try, I guess,” Percy replied.

Sally gave him a look.

“I will!” Percy defended.

“You’d better,” Sally said, wrapping her son in a hug. “Come back to us.”

Percy gave a wry smile. “With my shield or on it,” he replied.

“No, not on it,” Sally said, hugging her son a bit tighter. “I love you, baby.”

Percy tightened his embrace too, “I love you too, mama.”

They separated and Percy gave Paul a quick hug.

“Take care, Paul,” Percy said.

“You too, sport,” Paul replied. “Listen to your mom.”

Percy flashed him a quick smile, “I always do.” Then he was heading out the door, “Bye! See you on Sunday!”

Once he was gone, Sally took a steadying breath before turning to Paul. “We should get back to our own dinner.”

*****

But just because Paul could easily adjust to some parts of the mythological world he now found himself in didn’t mean that, as an adult, he couldn’t find some things to be concerning.

And while Percy and Sally might be used to that song and dance, this was Paul’s first time being included in it.

“War,” Paul asked, dumbfounded, “Like, an actual war? Percy is fighting in an actual war?”

Sally sighed as she sat down at the table. “Unfortunately,” she said.

“Oh, I was hoping that was Percy being dramatic,” Paul said, referencing his wife and stepson’s quick revelation of the Greek mythological world.

“Sadly no,” Sally replied. “He was being very serious about all of that.”

“But he’s a child,” Paul protested. “He shouldn’t be—“

“I know, Paul,” Sally interrupted, glaring down at her plate. Then she sighed, her shoulders softening, slumping into something sad and tired. “I know,” she repeated, looking up at her husband. “But do you really think we could stop him?”

“We could talk to him,” Paul replied, trying to come up with any way out of this for his stepson. “I know teenagers think they’re invincible but maybe if we explain to him that he doesn’t have to be the hero just yet, he’ll leave this conflict to the adults to deal with. He’ll listen to you, Sally. I know it.”

“Maybe,” Sally replied, pushing the rice around on her plate. “But I won’t ask that of him.”

Paul stared at his wife in disbelief. Sally and Percy cared more about each other than anyone else in the world. Paul knew that to be true. From everything Paul had seen, Sally had done her best to raise her son well. But she wouldn’t ask him to not be a child soldier?

“Why not?” He asked.

“Because it wouldn’t end well for Percy either way,” Sally said, clearly resigned to the Greek tragedy her son starred in. “If I asked Percy to stay out of this war, he either would, and eventually grow to resent me for forcing him to sit on the sidelines while his friends suffer and die, or he wouldn’t listen to me; he’d sneak out and do dangerous stuff without my knowledge and without me there to provide what little help I can.”

Sally sighed, and put her fork down, “Of course, I don’t want Percy going off to war. But I learned the hard way that his father’s world will always find him and claim him as their own, no matter how hard I try to keep him away from that.”

“And at the end of the day, Paul, there are no adults he can just leave this war too. At least, not enough who both can and will deal with it on their own. These kids don’t have much choice but to be involved. And the few adults who do care for them… Well, the best we can do is support them in whatever way we can.”

Paul stared down at his own plate of rice pilaf and chicken, as if a way out for Percy could be found there. Paul found that he suddenly wasn’t very hungry anymore.

“The best we can do is to be here,” Paul said dejectedly. “To remind him he has options, somewhere else to go, someone who will try to help.”

Sally looked at him mournfully, “Unfortunately.”

*****

Paul tried to keep himself occupied for the rest of the weekend. Between grading, weekly chores and errands, finishing unpacking, Paul had plenty to do to keep himself from stewing the fact that somewhere, out there his new stepson was off risking life and limb.

Sally was right. The best thing they could do was provide Percy with a place to come back to, away from the horrors. Which often meant continuing on life as normal when he was away.

And Percy, true to his word, did come home on Sunday. He came home limping and with a concerning collection of bruises snaking up his arm and under his sleeve, but he came home alive to grumble about his homework and the fact that he wouldn’t be able to skate for a few days.

So Paul and Sally helped where they could. They propped their son up in bed with an ice pack on his swollen ankle, helped him with his homework, and tried to provide whatever small bit of normalcy they could.

Chapter Text

If there was one thing Paul had learned over all his years of teaching, it’s that the start of the school year is when everyone got sick.

Summer break was just long enough for everyone’s immune systems to fall out of sync or for just enough people to be exposed to new germs or something. Then, come fall, a few hundred students, teachers, and staff returned from wherever they had been vacationing to be crammed into one building. And whatever new germs were brought with them suddenly had a lot of new potential hosts. A lot of people would get sick for part of August and September, after which everyone’s immune systems would mostly sync back up again until the next summer break when the cycle would begin anew.

It was just one of the many facts of life working in the American Education System. And since it was mainly just colds, Paul tended to consider it an annoying but mostly harmless fact of life.

Especially annoying this year however, as Paul was one of the unlucky ones who caught the cold. And more unfortunately, he’d passed it along to Sally. Their apartment had been full of headaches, sneezes, and tissues for the better part of a week. Not to mention that both of them getting sick at the same time had added to their son’s very understandable stress levels.

They had done what they could to explain to Percy that a cold wasn’t a big deal, it was annoying but that was about it.

But Percy… well… The poor kid had just returned home from being kidnapped by his godly aunt, forced to be a child soldier in yet another war, having his memories stolen, and who knows what other forms of hell the gods, fates, and giants had put him through.

And on top of all of that, Percy had to start at a new school. For some inane reason the administration at Goode had decided that being kidnapped wasn’t a good reason for missing half a school year, especially with Percy’s previous record, and it didn’t seem that any amount of arguing with the principal and superintendent on Paul and Sally’s part was going to change that.

And since Percy had wanted something, anything to feel normal again, even school, Paul had managed to find him a spot at Alternative High, a school in Queens that took any student that the other schools wouldn’t take, and Sally had gotten him enrolled for the year. Paul had tried to cheer his stepson up with the fact that AHS had an Olympic size pool and hey, at least he wouldn’t have to wear a school uniform anymore, but it was clear that that wasn’t even close to enough to make up for everything Percy had gone through.

To say that Percy was far beyond the end of his rope was an understatement. In short, Paul understood why Percy was so stressed about both of his mortal parents catching a cold, even if it was nothing.

But thankfully, it was just a cold. Thankfully, it passed soon. And thankfully, Paul and Sally didn’t have to worry about Percy catching it too.

Apparently, Percy rarely got sick. One of the few blessings that came with being a demigod was being immune to most minor human illnesses. Maybe being half god boosted his immune system? Maybe human illnesses had trouble taking hold in someone who wasn’t quite human? Paul didn’t know.

It was one less thing to worry about. One less thing for Percy to go through. One less thing to bring up at Percy’s upcoming physical. Paul could be thankful for that.

Or, so they thought.

“Percy! Dinner!” Sally called, placing a bowl of spaghetti on the table.

Paul was too focused on trying not to burn himself as he finished cutting the still-extremely-hot-from-the-oven garlic bread to notice that his stepson hadn’t appeared until his wife called, “Percy?”

Paul looked up. Still no response from his stepson. And Percy wasn’t the type to miss meals.

Panic seized Paul. Percy hadn’t been kidnapped again, right? If a god wanted to, they could easily do it again. If Percy could be taken from Camp, then surely their apartment would be no problem. Paul tried to squash those thoughts down. They wouldn’t help right now.

Sally bit her lip. “I’m going to go check on him,” she said.

“Good idea,” Paul agreed. “I’ll finish setting the table.”

Sally nodded and headed off to Percy’s room. Paul heard her knock on his stepson’s door, ask to come in, before hearing the door open.

Paul busied himself with setting the table, listening to the soft murmuring coming from the other room. Well, at least that meant Percy was still here. Paul held off setting out the plates for last. That was usually Percy’s job, and well, they were trying to provide him with as much normalcy as possible.

But it couldn’t hurt to just get the plates out of the cabinet, right? A blue one for Percy, a green one for Sally, a yellow one for himself…

“Paul!” Sally called from Percy’s room. “Could you grab me the thermometer?”

Well, that wasn't a good sign. Paul set the plates down on the counter. He grabbed the thermometer from the medicine cabinet, and went to his stepson’s room.

Percy was curled up on his bed, looking exhausted (which wasn’t too out of the ordinary these days). Sally stood by him, her hand resting on Percy’s forehead.

“Got the thermometer,” Paul said, handing it off to Sally. “Hey, sport. Not feeling good?” he asked his stepson.

Percy just made a noise of displeasure in response, though Paul wasn’t sure if that was an answer to his question or a reaction to having a thermometer stuck in his ear.

The thermometer beeped and Sally pulled it out to check on it. “Well, you’ve definitely got a fever, baby,” Sally said. “101.2. You’re not going to school tomorrow.”

“But I’ve already missed too much school,” Percy protested weakly. Paul watched as his stepson struggled to push himself upright. Sally sat down next to him and helped him into a steady sitting position.

“And you can miss some more to rest and recover,” Sally reassured him. She kissed her son’s temple. “It won’t be the end of the world, baby.”

“It seems like you could really use the rest anyway, sport,” Paul said. “If you’re not feeling well enough for dinner, going to school is probably pushing it. Besides school won’t let you come in with a fever that high. They don’t want everyone else getting sick too.”

Percy leaned on Sally. “Everyone else is already sick. It’s not that big of a deal,” Percy explained.

“Just because everyone else is going to school sick doesn’t mean you should, sweetie,” Sally said, rubbing her son’s shoulder. “You’re staying home tomorrow.”

Percy made an unhappy noise in his throat, which turned into a cough.

“Sore throat?” Paul asked.

“Ya,” Percy sighed.

“Let’s get some tea and some meds into you, okay baby?” Sally said. “Then we’ll see about trying some dinner.”

“I’m not hungry,” Percy said, eyes drooping shut.

“You should still try to eat something, sport,” Paul said. “Your body needs energy to recover.”

Percy only grumbled in response.

“I know, baby,” Sally said before giving Percy another kiss on the temple. “Now why don’t you lay down and rest while we get your meds and tea, okay?”

Percy hummed in response which quickly turned to coughing. Paul rearranged some pillows into a more supportive pillow while Sally helped guide Percy into a lateral position.

Once Percy was settled, Paul said, “We’ll be right back, okay sport?”

“Kay,” came Percy’s weak reply.

*****

“Fever, sore throat, muscle aches, cough and fatigue,” Paul said, filling a mug with water. “Sounds like the flu. And honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was going around his school.”

Sally studied the bottle of ibuprofen that she’d pulled from the medicine cabinet. “As long as it is just the flu, then he should be fine as long as we keep an eye on his fever, his fluid levels, and his sodium levels.”

“Well, treating the fever should help with keeping him from sweating too much,” Paul said, placing the mug in the microwave. “And maybe we can convince him to drink some broth if he won’t eat.”

“Cook some rice in some broth and dye it blue,” Sally said. “That usually does the trick when he won’t eat.” Sally looked over at their now cooling dinner. “We’re probably going to have to reheat that.”

“Ya,” Paul said in agreement. They stood in silence while the water finished heating.

“I thought Percy didn’t get sick?” Paul asked as he grabbed the mug of water from the microwave.

“He doesn’t,” Sally said, passing a box of lemon honey tea to Paul. “Well, not usually anyway. He got tonsillitis once when he was five. He recovered pretty quickly once I got him some antivirals. But other than that his health problems have been limited to injuries and things he inherited from his father’s side of the family.”

“So Percy getting sick now…?” Paul asked, placing the tea bag in the mug.

“It’s probably bad,” Sally admitted. “It’s either a really bad strain of the flu, or something worse than the flu, or…”

Sally sighed and looked at Paul, her eyes full of concern, “Something happened to him, Paul. Something that he’s not telling us. Something more than the war and the kidnapping and the stolen memories. He’s stressed and scared and exhausted all the time. He isn’t sleeping well, he isn’t eating as much, and I swear he has had some sort of respiratory issue since he came home. I’m just worried that we’re missing something and that he’s going to suffer for it.”

“I know,” Paul replied. “But he’s got his physical next week. Therapy too. And we can always take him to a walk-in clinic or the ER in the meantime.”

“Ya,” Sally sighed. “Hopefully they’ll give us some answers. I just want to help him.”

“Me too,” Paul said, mournfully. He threw away the tea bag. “Let’s at least get him his meds and tea.”

“And go from there,” Sally said.

“And go from there,” Paul echoed.

*****

Paul softly knocked on his stepson’s door the next morning. “Hey sport, you up? I need to check your temperature and give you your next dose of meds.”

Paul hoped that the grumbling that he heard was permission to enter because the coughing that followed sounded concerning, like his stepson was hacking up a lung. He stuck his head into Percy’s room to see the boy lying on his bed, his body wracked with coughing. If he hadn’t seen Percy perk up enough last night to eat some reheated spaghetti, Paul would have sworn that his stepson hadn’t moved since they’d given him some meds the night before.

“Hey kiddo, how ya holding up?” Paul asked once the coughing fit subsided.

Percy made a pained pitiful noise in his throat, and clutched his blanket tighter around him.

“I know, kiddo,” Paul said, placing the bottle of medicine and a cup on the bedside table. “I’m going to take your temperature, okay? And I brought you some more medicine and some water.”

Percy hummed in response, and made a sound of annoyance when the thermometer went into his ear.

“I know, Percy. I’ll be quick,” Paul said, comfortingly. He tried not to be too concerned about how warm his stepson’s skin felt, how much he was sweating. Most concerning of all was that Percy was shivering despite his fever and the late August heat.

The thermometer beeped and flashed a number. 102.4. That wasn’t good. Percy’s temperature had gone up overnight. Not much but there wasn’t much farther it could go before Paul would be forced to take him to the ER.

“All done,” Paul said softly. He brushed some damp hair off of Percy’s forehead. “You think you can try taking some meds for me? Drinking some water?”

“Ya,” Percy said weakly. He wiggled a hand out of his blanket cocoon, which Paul put the ibuprofen in. This was followed by the glass of water, which Percy chugged.

“Slow down, kiddo. You don’t want to upset your stomach,” Paul warned.

“What?” Percy said, his voice still scratchy.

“Drinking water too fast can upset your stomach,” Paul explained. “And throwing up is just going to make you feel worse.”

Percy blinked at him, confused.

Paul considered that, maybe, as a son of Poseidon Percy didn’t have to worry about regular human things, like the consequences of drinking water too quickly. Then again, they’d thought the same thing about Percy catching human diseases…

“Ah, never mind, sport,” Paul said. “Do you think you’re feeling up to trying some food now, or do you want to give the medicine some time to kick in?”

“What kinda food?” Percy asked, followed by some coughing.

“Blue rice,” Paul said. “I can make you some more tea too.”

“Okay,” Percy said, heaving himself upright, something that appeared to take far too much effort. Paul listened with concern at how quickly his stepson’s breathing became labored.

“You need help, sport,” Paul asked.

Percy shook his head before relenting. “Paul?” he asked. “Could you get my cloak pin off my dresser?”

“Sure kiddo,” Paul said. With a bit of work, Paul was able to locate what looked like a very large safety pin among the various items covering Percy’s dresser. (Percy’s dresser was messy per say. He just needed everything to be in view to help him remember where he put things.)

“This it kiddo?” Paul asked, holding the pin up.

Percy nodded, clumsily pulling a blanket around his shoulders. Paul handed the pin off to Percy. Percy struggled with the pin, clearly trying to secure his blanket like an Ancient Greek cloak. Paul wondered idly how many times Percy had pinned a cloak that way or if it was just instinctual knowledge for him.

However, it seemed that the illness was affecting Percy’s fine motor skills, or at least his hand joints. His fingers moved as if they were stiff and unsure, struggling with getting the pin and the closure aligned.

“You want some help kiddo?” Paul offered. Percy sighed and nodded. Paul reached forward and finished pinning the blanket around his stepson’s shoulders. “There. Now, are you ready for something to eat?”

Percy nodded and slid out of bed. He started to make his way to the kitchen, slowly, as if the short walk across their apartment was almost more than he could manage. Paul followed closely behind him, in case he needed any assistance.

Percy eventually made it to the kitchen table, where he slumped down into his regular chair. Paul dished him out a bowl full of blue rice and refilled his cup of water. Percy started eating while Paul got the kettle going.

Percy stared at the clock on their stove. It was perpetually the wrong time since no one in the Jackson-Blofis household wanted to figure out how to reset it after the power went out. “How late did I sleep?”

“It’s just after eleven,” Paul said, checking his watch. “I guess you’re having brunch, kiddo.”

“I hate brunch,” Percy grumbled, before he started coughing again.

He was coughing long and hard enough that Paul asked, “Percy? Are you choking? Say something please.” Paul moved over to stand by Percy getting ready to give him the heimlich maneuver if need be.

“Dying…” Percy managed to wheeze out between coughs. “I’m… okay…”

“You don’t sound okay, sport,” Paul said. “Try to drink some water when you can, okay?”

Percy gave Paul a thumbs up, too focused on trying to breathe to do too much more. Eventually his coughing subsided enough to drink some water. Percy laid his head down on the table next to his bowl, nestled in his arms, exhausted.

Paul set a mug of tea down next to him. “For whenever you’re ready. Take your time, Percy.”

Paul reached out to comfortingly pat his stepson on the back but stopped before he touched him. He knew that Percy was, understandably, particular about being touched. The line between being comforting and startling was a very fine one that Paul tried to avoid crossing.

Percy looked up at him with half closed eyes. “It’s okay,” he muttered.

Paul set a hand on Percy’s back and rubbed circles into it. “You’re going to be okay, sport. Just take your time. Ride this out. Your mom and I will take care of you.”

“Hmmm,” Percy said, eyes fluttering shut.

“I know, Percy. I know,” Paul said, comforting the sick teen as best he could.

*****

Percy woke up at the kitchen table with a groan. How did he somehow feel worse? All he’d been doing was sleeping and lying down. He’d been taking the meds his parents offered and drinking as much as he could when he was awake. So why did he still feel so lousy? He was so cold, and everything hurt.

He looked over at the stove clock. Well, he’d been out for a few hours. Glancing around some more, Percy noticed that his bowl of rice had been replaced with a bag of the really salty pretzels he liked, the opening of the bag in easy reach. His cup of water and mug of (probably cold) tea were still there, along with a note.

Percy tried reading it but well, his dyslexia made reading English a challenge at the best of times, and this certainly wasn’t the best of times. Before he could decipher what it said, Paul stuck his head in the room.

“Hey sport, how ya feeling?” Paul asked.

Cold and sweaty and achy and tired and like some small creature was actively scratching up the inside of his throat. But saying all of that felt like too much effort. Percy just swallowed, trying to soothe his irritated throat and groaned.

“Ya, I bet,” Paul said. He walked over by Percy, putting his hand on the back of his chair. “Anything I can do for you, sport? I can reheat your tea. I put your rice in the fridge but I can get that ready for you too. Or there’s pretzels if you’re feeling more up for that.”

“Not hungry,” Percy rasped out.

Paul sighed. “Ya, I imagine not. But you’ve barely eaten anything today, and I’m getting worried. Can you try to eat something? You can take it slow, or lie down while you eat, or whatever sounds most comfortable for you, okay? But you’re really going to need some food to help your body beat this bug.”

“Lie down… with pretzels?” Percy asked.

“Ya, sure thing kiddo,” Paul said. “Anything else? Water? Tea?”

“…Water,” Percy mumbled.

“Got it,” Paul said. “I’ll put some in a water bottle so you can curl up with it and your bag of pretzels.”

Percy hummed before breaking out into a coughing fit again. He was coughing so hard that it felt like he might tear his throat. As it was he was gasping for every breath. Like when he was drowning or breathing the air down in—

No. No! Don’t think about that now. Don’t— breathe, you idiot, breathe!

“Hey sport? Can you say something?” Paul’s voice cut into his whirling thoughts.

“…Ya…” Percy managed to rasp out. He was okay. He was home. He was with Paul. Not down in— Damn it!

Paul set a water bottle down by his head, straw already flipped up. “Can you try drinking something? It might help with your throat.”
Percy nodded and readily drank from the water bottle that Paul offered. After drinking what felt like most of the water bottle, Percy felt a bit better. Or rather, his throat didn’t feel like it was being torn apart and his mind felt a lot calmer.

“I’m going to go refill this, Percy,” Paul said. “Then we’ll get you to bed, okay?”

Percy hummed in response.

While Paul was busy refilling the water bottle, Percy figured he should get a head start on heading towards his room. He grabbed the bag of pretzels with one of his hands and then pushed himself up into a standing position. Every one of his joints ached in protest and a bone deep sense of weariness washed over him. He wanted desperately to collapse back into his seat. But somehow Percy managed to take a step. And then another.

And then his energy ran out. He leaned against the kitchen wall and slid down to the ground. He was kneeling, crumbled into a pile on the floor with only the wall he was leaning on keeping him somewhat up right.

“Percy!” Paul exclaimed, rushing to his side. “Hey there, kiddo. Are you okay?”

“Tired,” Percy muttered.

“I know, kiddo,” Paul said. “But that doesn’t look like a very comfortable position to be in. Just let me know when you are ready, and I’ll help you get into bed.”

“...Mkay,” Percy said. Ya know, aside from the cramped way his legs were positioned under his body, it was really nice to rest against the wall.

After a few moments, Percy gathered his remaining strength. He looked over at Paul.

“Ready?” Paul asked.

“Ya,” Percy responded.

“Okay,” Paul said, and repositioned himself so that he had Percy arm over his shoulders and one of his own arms wrapped around Percy’s torso for support. “Ready? Okay, on three. One. Two. Three.”

Percy pushed himself upwards with his remaining strength, leaning heavily on Paul.

“There you go. You’re doing good, kiddo,” Paul said. “Now let’s try walking.”

Together they managed to make their way into Percy’s room, with Percy only stumbling a few times. Paul helped lower Percy down onto his bed, where he gladly curled up around the bag of pretzels he’d somehow managed to keep a hold of. Percy closed his eyes and felt Paul unpin his blanket and tuck him in.

Paul rested a hand on Percy’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back, Percy. I’m going to go grab your water and the thermometer,” he said.

Percy just hummed in response. He heard Paul leave. Then he grabbed one of the pretzels from his bag and started sucking the salt off of it.

A few moments later he felt the annoying sensation of the thermometer in his ear. Percy made a noise of displeasure and opened his eyes to look at Paul.

“I know, kiddo,” Paul said. “But you’re still really warm which is concerning given that there is still a few hours to go until you can take another dose of meds.”

Ya, okay, that was fair, Percy supposed. But the thermometer was still annoying.

The thermometer beeped and Paul grimaced at the number. “Looks like we’re going to be taking you to the doctor, sport,” Paul said. “I’m going to call your mom and update her on the situation. And I’m going to get you a wet washcloth for your forehead and neck, okay? Here’s your water,” he handed Percy the water bottle. “Try to eat and drink something. And rest. We’ll take care of you.”

“Hmmm,” was Percy’s only response. He curled around the water bottle and pretzels, and snuggled the blankets around him tighter. He kept sucking on the pretzels, letting them dissolve in his mouth. It wasn’t like he had the energy to do much else.

After a few moments, Percy felt the coolness of the wet washcloths on his neck and head. He blearily looked up at Paul.

“Hey kiddo,” Paul said, softly. “We’re going to take you to the walk-in clinic once your mom gets off of work, okay? You just have to rest until then. And thank you for trying to eat something.”

“Hmmm,” Percy hummed around his pretzel.

“I’ll check in on you in a bit,” Paul said. “Yell if you need anything in the meantime, okay?”

“Hmmm,” Percy agreed, though he wasn’t sure how much yelling he could do right now.

“Okay,” Paul said. “Love you, kiddo. You’re going to be okay.”

*****

Paul barely had time to greet his wife once she got home. Which was fair, given the circumstances.

“How is he?” Sally asked Paul as she took off her shoes.

“Well, he was sleeping again, last time I checked on him,” Paul said, pinching his fingers together nervously. “I’m really worried about him, Sally. His fever keeps going up despite the ibuprofen, he’s barely eaten or drank anything, his coughing keeps getting worse, and he’s too tired to move much at all.”

“That’s definitely not good,” Sally agreed. “And his fever was at 103.2 a few hours ago?”

“Ya,” Paul confirmed. “I was just going to go check on him again. Give him his next dose of medicine.”

Sally grabbed Percy’s shoes. “Let’s just take his temperature again and take him to the walk-in clinic,” She said, making her way to her son’s room.

“Sounds like a plan,” Paul said, following close behind, stopping briefly to pick up the thermometer.

“Hey baby,” Sally said, kissing Percy’s head. Paul was right; he was burning up. “How you doing, baby?”

Percy made a pitiful noise, followed by coughing.

“Oh my poor baby,” Sally said, rubbing her son’s back. “We’re just going to take your temperature, and then we’re going to take you to the doctor, okay?”

More pitiful noises.

“I know, baby,” Sally said.

She took the thermometer from Paul and asked, “Could you go grab his insurance card?”

“Of course,” Paul replied, leaving the room.

A few moments later, after the thermometer beeped, Sally called out, “Paul?”

Paul reappeared in his stepson’s doorway. “What is it?” he asked, concerned.

“We’re not going to the walk-in clinic. We’re going to the ER,” Sally said. “His fever’s at 105.1.”

Paul sharply sucked in a breath. “That’s really not good,” he said. “Okay. I’ll help you get him up.”

*****

Despite Percy’s protestations and extreme fatigue, Sally and Paul managed to get him in the car. Then it was just a matter of fighting through New York City traffic to get to the hospital.

“So what are we going to tell the doctors?” Paul asked, as he turned another corner. “If any of them ask about Percy’s scars or anything else… unusual they might find?”

Paul remembered how concerned and puzzled he had been before learning that his stepson was a demigod. These days he was just concerned. He could only imagine that a doctor would be even more so once they got a good look at the physical toll that being a child soldier and divine errand boy had taken on Percy’s body. And that wasn’t even taking into account how Percy’s physiology differed from a full human’s. Or anything that might have happened to him over these past few months.

“We’ll just… be as honest with them as we can,” Sally said, glancing back at Percy with concern. “Tell them that he inherited a predisposition towards dehydration and hyponatremia. Explain that we just got him back from being kidnapped by his aunt and we have a physical scheduled for him next week. Hopefully the Mist will fill things in from there.”

“We could go home,” Percy protested from the back seat, before coughing once more.

“We really can’t, baby,” Sally said. “Your fever’s dangerously high and none of the medicine we have seems to be helping you. You need to see a doctor.”

Percy groaned, and cradled his water bottle closer to his body.

Eventually they made it to the hospital. Paul dropped Percy and Sally off at the ER before going to park the car. Either it was a slow day in the ER or they were concerned about Percy infecting other people because by the time Paul rejoined them, the medical staff were wheeling Percy off to a room.

Some basic tests were ordered. Temperature, throat swab, urine sample, chest X-ray, and…

“No!” Percy protested between coughs. “No! You’re not taking my— *cough, cough*— blood,” Percy finished weakly.

Sally held Percy’s upper arm comfortingly. Or maybe she was just trying to keep him from bolting. “Sweetie, they’re just trying to help you, but they need to figure out what’s going on.”

“Can’t they do that— *cough*— without my blood?” Percy protested.

Paul wasn’t quite sure why Percy was so adamantly against this. He’d never been very squeamish around blood before or terrified of needles. Heck, Paul had once come home to Percy stitching up a wound in his own thigh.

But Percy had been incredibly stressed out since he’d come home a few weeks ago. Maybe this reaction was just another symptom of his current mental state.

“Percy, they’re just trying to be thorough,” Paul said. “We don’t want them to miss something and you getting hurt.”

“I’ll be quick,” the phlebotomist said. “And I’ll get you all set up with an IV so that we can get you started on some fluids.”

“Fluids?” Percy asked, still sounding wary.

“Just some saline for now,” the phlebotomist explained.

“Saline, that should help you feel better, baby,” Sally said. “Remember how much better you felt after the last time you had saline?”

Percy looked like he still didn’t like the idea but he allowed the phlebotomist to take the blood sample and hook him up to an IV.

After that, all the three of them could do was wait.

“You’re going to be okay, Percy,” Paul said, trying to comfort his obviously uncomfortable stepson.

“Ya, until they look at my blood,” Percy grumbled. At least his coughing seemed to have eased a bit. “Then they’ll either realize what a freak of nature I am or think I have some horrible blood infection.”

“You’re not a freak of nature,” Sally corrected.

“What do you think they’re going to find in your blood?” Paul asked. He knew his stepson wasn’t completely human, but he’d seen Percy’s blood too many times and it had always looked frighteningly human to Paul.

“Ichor,” Percy said.

“I’m sure that won’t come up on any of their tests, baby,” Sally said. “I doubt the Mist will allow them to notice that.”

“They probably just want to see how your white blood cells are reacting,” Paul said, trying not to think too much about whether or not his stepson’s blood glittered slightly. “Trust us that we won’t let them hurt you, okay sport?”

“Hmmm,” Percy groaned, hugging his water bottle to his chest.

Sally ruffled his hair, “Just rest, baby. Let the saline do its job. Hopefully they’ll come back soon with some medicine for you.”

*****

Percy was napping again when the doctor returned.

“The flu? He just has the flu?” Sally asked.

“Influenza can be a very serious disease,” the doctor explained. “There is a particularly bad strain going around right now that wasn’t included in the last round of flu vaccines. And you said he’s been under some stress recently?”

“Yes,” Paul answered, really hoping that the doctor wasn’t going to push further with that line of questioning.

“Extreme stress can weaken the immune system,” the doctor explained. “That might be why he is experiencing a more serious infection despite his age. But usually, people his age recover quite well from the flu.”

The doctor stood up, “I’ll put in a prescription for some tamiflu for him. Alternate ibuprofen and acetaminophen as needed to keep his fever under control. And make sure he gets lots of rest and fluids.”

Paul glanced at his still sleeping stepson, drooling on the thin hospital pillow. He didn’t think rest was going to be a problem.

“We will. Thank you,” Sally said.

“A nurse will be by soon to give Perseus his first dose of medicine. If his fever has dropped in twenty minutes, then the nurse will remove his IV and give you his discharge papers,” the doctor said before leaving the room.

Sally sat down in the chair by her son’s head, resting her hand on his forehead.

“It’s just the flu,” Paul said, laying a comforting hand on his wife’s shoulder. “He’s going to be okay.”

“I know. Thank the gods,” Sally said. “Still, I wish he didn’t have to deal with this. Especially now.”

Paul knew what she meant. It seemed cruel of the Fates to allow Percy to get so sick when he was just starting to put his life back together.

“After we get his discharge papers, do you want to ask Percy what kind of takeout he’s in the mood for while I run to the hospital pharmacy and pick up his prescription?” Paul asked.

“That sounds like a good plan,” Sally said.

*****

Between the coffee and tea brewing, and the blueberry pancakes being made, and the New York Times crossword being filled out, it was shaping up to be a regular Saturday morning in the Jackson-Blofis household.

“Title of Apollo, ends in -er,” Sally said.

Paul flipped a pancake. Before he could respond someone said, “Farshooter.”

Paul looked over. “Morning, sport. How you feeling?”

Percy stood in the kitchen doorway rubbing at his eye, blanket wrapped around him. “Better,” he said, followed by some coughing.

“That’s good to hear, and thank you for the answer,” Sally got up, and went over to kiss her son. “You don’t feel as warm as you did yesterday either.”

“You’re still going to take my temperature again, aren’t you?” Percy complained.

“We have to until your fever breaks,” Paul said, adding a pancake to the stack. “It’s better to do it before breakfast anyway.”

“Also it’s time for your next dose of meds,” Sally said, ruffling his hair before going to measure out a dose of Percy’s various medicines.

“Ya, okay,” Percy said, sitting down at the table. “But then I get pancakes right?”

Sally and Paul chuckled.

“Of course, kiddo,” Paul said. “Of course.”