in which: a son of poseidon has himself convinced a daughter of athena doesn’t want to listen to him complain.
pairing: percy jackson x daughter of athena!reader
warnings: angst, my poor percy has been through TOO MUCH
tropes: hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers
word count: 2.1k
a/n: friendly reminder that request r open (esp for headcanons) and bc I have a four hour layover tmrw I will be absolutely active on here. plz enjoy. also, this is inspired by a tiktok I saw that said Percy's trauma is so overlooked. so here's me not overlooking it.
All eyes were on the great Percy Jackson.
Yours were, too, don’t be fooled. You had always found him impossible to look away from. But it wasn’t admiration you were studying him with as tales of his quests were told and retold and embellished around the bonfire. Quests you had been on, each and every time.
No, you were watching him with concern.
Because the son of the sea was drowning in all the attention.
It was almost painful for you to watch, but you couldn't look away.
A beautiful train wreck, you supposed, studying Percy's uncomfortable but obliging conversation with one of the newer sons of Ares who hadn't been around for Kronos or Gaea and simply thought fighting in those wars had been fun.
But people had died. Your people, your friends. It was war, and it was painful, and even though you were the daughter of the war goddess, you hated it with every inch of your being.
No amount of planning on your behalf could have saved Beckendorf. There was no stopping Leo from sacrificing himself.
"That's called being a demigod," Percy had told you one day, offhanded, sometime between nearly dying in a volcanic explosion and being stolen from her by Hera.
"That doesn't mean we have to stand idly by and accept it," You had countered, frowning, and Percy must have realized he'd said something that had upset you, because he had pulled you into a hug and muttered an apology you still hadn't worked out was necessary or not.
But what you did know was that he was your best friend, that you had been in love with him since you were both fourteen, and he absolutely did not want to talk about all his past glories like a good little Greek hero.
Seated on a front-row bench with Grover on on side and an assortment of other campers you knew he wasn't close with surrounding him, you knew you had to run a rescue mission.
Especially since Grover was too distracted by eating his marshmallow roasting stick to realize how tense Percy was as the Ares kid went on and on.
"Perce, there you are." You wedged yourself into the not-entirely open spot next to your best friend, smile on your lips and a sly look in your eyes. Percy's own widened in sight relief, his arm wrapping loosely around your shoulders in a casual movement that was entirely too familiar. "Thought you ran off on me."
"Never," He sighed, some of his tension already dissipating. You grinned a little unevenly at him, not wanting to give the others watching any clues that the great Percy Jackson wasn't completely and utterly alright.
"Good," You bumped him with your shoulder, and he squeezed his arm around you for just a brief moment, tugging you close to his side. You had to turn and face the young Ares boy to keep yourself focused. "How are your archery lessons coming?"
The new camper looked slightly put out about the change in conversation, but you pinned your stare on him and didn't back down. For a moment, you thought he would continue to pester Percy with questions about fighting in two wars, even with you sending up very clear signals that neither of you were interested.
But the boy made the right choice, launching into a rant about how long range combat was not his strength.
Halfway through the story about almost shooting Connor Stoll's foot, you felt Percy lean towards you, his breath warm against the shell of your ear as he dropped his voice to a whisper, meant only for you.
"Thank you,"
Since you had taken half a seat, your body was pressed firmly against his from your ankles to your shoulders. His touch warmed your skin like a sunny day on the beach, and you weren't sure if it was a son of Poseidon thing or a Percy Jackson thing.
So instead of answering him, you set one of your hands on his leg, just above his knee, and squeezed.
The moon was shining over camp when you gave up on finding sleep and decided to sneak out.
You’d been around long enough to know just how to sweet talk Mr. D into letting you be out past curfew, and Chiron had a soft spot for you, since you helped save the world. Twice. It was the harpies catching you that you were afraid of.
Travis Stoll had almost learned the hard way that Mr. D was not kidding about them eating campers.
But children of Athena had passed on the secret to sneaking out through generations, and you were exploiting that very information for a midnight trip to the lake to stargaze there when you spotted movement on the roof of Cabin Three.
Really, you weren't in control of your own actions as you turned swiftly to change course. Maybe it was Tyche with her luck or Aphrodite with her meddling in the affairs of the heart that had you scaling the side of Poseidon's cabin, a path you had taken more than once.
Or maybe, for once, you couldn't blame the gods. Maybe you were the only one making the choices that had you settling on your back beside Percy on the slanted cabin roof.
He hadn't seemed all too surprised to see you, but all he offered in way of greeting was a nod before he returned to studying the sky above.
You only let the silence last for three minutes, a gnawing feeling in the pits of your stomach unable to let it be.
"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked, voiced simultaneously quiet and startlingly loud in the otherwise silent night. With your head turned to watch his side profile, you watched him tumble from his thoughts and back onto that rooftop, with you.
"What?" He was playing coy, you knew him well enough. What you didn't understand was why he was holding back with you, of all people. You, who had been there with him from the night Grover dragged him over Half-Blood Hill. Who had followed him and Grover and Annabeth across the country to save his mom, who fought Luke and Kronos with him, and mourned the loss of so many friends.
You, who hadn't slept for six months when he disappeared, only to find him in New Rome with the claim that he had forgotten everyone and everything but you.
His tether to his life. His best friend. His something more.
"About whatever is bothering you so much tonight." You shot him a flat look, but his was still doing a good job at avoiding your eye. Frowning, you nudged him with your elbow. "I saw you at the bonfire, Perce. Something is eating at you."
For a moment, it was silent. And then Percy drew in a deep breath, like he was readying himself for something, but he still hadn't looked at you.
"I guess I’ve just been thinking about just… everything." He sighed, but you could hear the apprehension and exhaustion in his voice. He was still keeping things back, but you couldn't understand why. And that killed you, as a child of Athena. "I've been fighting since I—we—were twelve. It's too..."
"Too what?" You prompted when he trailed off, his voice dying in the warm night air. Your hand brushed against his on the rooftop between your bodies, and you considered the risks of just grabbing his hand and squeezing to offer comfort while he sorted through his thoughts.
"Forget it." He shook his head, and your heart sunk. "You don’t want to hear me complain."
You frowned, twisting to face the sky and wracking your Athena blessed mind for some way to prove to him that you did, in fact, want to hear it. You wanted to hear anything, ever, that he had to say.
But when words failed you, actions didn’t, and you finally stopped pretending to accidentally brush your pinky against his and just wrapped your hand around his.
You both stayed like that for a while, quiet and thinking, until you turned your head to face him, unsurprised to find a stormy look on his face while he still studied the stars. Maybe he was thinking of Zoë, of all the others the two of you had lost over the years.
But you were thinking about him, only.
"I’ve been fighting with you since you came to camp," Your words were quiet, little more than a summer’s breeze brushing across Percy’s skin, but you knew he heard you. "But maybe now we’re not fighting monsters anymore. Maybe we’re fighting the memories and scars they left behind. But I’m still fighting with you, Percy."
He turned his head, then, his eyes finding yours like they were always meant to. And, deep down, part of you knew they were.
Every shared glance during combat, or after a stupid joke, or when a battle ended and all either of you could do was search the carnage for a hint of the other—those eyes had found you.
"I’m just so scared I’ll never get to live my life.” Percy confessed, voice hauntingly hollow. You squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back like a lifeline. “I don’t know if I’m running away from what’s already happened or into the next big mess. And what if next time… what if…"
He trailed off, eyes wide in panic, a bit of desperation. You squeezed his hand again, because you couldn’t give him the words. He needed to find them himself.
Percy screwed his eyes shut and darted forward, slotting his mouth over yours in an unexpected, horribly angled kiss. Teeth clashed together, your bottom lip caught in the mayhem and you gasped at the slight bite of pain.
He jumped back like you had burned him, propped up on one arm as he leaned on his side next to you.
"I, shit, I shouldn’t have—" He fumbled for words, already trying to shuffle further away from you, but you held tight onto his hand to keep him close, sitting up to follow him. "Please, let’s just forget about this, okay? I just, I got caught up in everything and—"
"Tell me you didn’t want to kiss me, then." You promoted, brows knitted together as you studied his face, desperate for a glimpse of how he was feeling revealed to you in the moonlight. "Because if you can’t say it meant nothing to you, you need to tell me, right now."
"I… can’t say it."
And just like that, you were the one kissing him, one hand curving around the back of his neck to keep him close while the other remained threaded through his fingers. His free hand reached up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin as if he needed confirmation that this was real, that you were real.
When you finally pulled apart to breathe, you didn’t go far. Not from him. Never from him.
"I was worried next time I wouldn’t get the chance to do that." Percy finished his thought from before, a little dazed from the kiss you both had been long awaiting, apparently. You smiled softly and closed your eyes, pressing your forehead against his.
"If you’re running towards the next prophecy, I’ll run with you." You promised, pausing only briefly to shift your position so you and Percy were laying on the roof again, only this time your head was propped on his chest and his arm was wrapped securely around you. "But if you want to sit up here and talk about the monsters you’re running from, I’ll do that, too."
"Thank you." He echoed his words from the earlier bonfire. And you could tell from his voice that he really was thankful. Because as tough as he was, Percy Jackson was still half mortal. "I…" He started, the air thick with tension about what he was going to confess. "I keep having dreams about Tartarus."
You let him talk, devoting your attention and mind to him, tracing shapes and stars and waves against his chest by your head while he spoke.
Time moved quickly that way, with talk of his fears and what weighed heavily on his mind broken up only when his throat would clog with emotion and you would tilt your head up to kiss away the memory long enough for him to regain his composure.
Because no one knew him better than you, and he didn't have to be the great Percy Jackson with you.
He could just be Percy, the boy who was haunted by his past and terrified of his future.
And you would give him all of your peaceful nights for him to have only one.
