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“There’s a hole in the bottom of the sea! There’s a hole in the bottom of the sea! There’s a hole! There’s a hole! There’s a hole in the bottom of the sea!”
He’s going to kill Leo. He really will. If Leo doesn’t shut up and stop this inane singing –
“There’s a log in the hole in the bottom of the sea! There’s a log in the hole in the bottom of the sea! There’s a log! There’s a log! There’s a log in the hole in the bottom of the sea!”
His fists are starting to clench. There is no hole at the bottom of the sea. There is no log in said hole. There’re a lot of fish, a ton of coral, and a dolphin or two. Maybe some crabs. For a moment he’s happy thinking about crabs skittering back and forth and getting into a claw war with a lobster.
“There’s a frog on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea!”
The frog wouldn’t survive down there! He looks around. Where did Piper and Jason go? How had they figured out the secret to surviving Leo’s singing?
“There’s a frog on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea!”
He sits up straighter. If he reaches across the campfire, careful of the flames, he’ll be able to reach Leo, and Leo’s neck, and the song will mercifully stop.
“There’s a frog! There’s a frog! There’s a frog on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea!”
“Percy.”
Annabeth’s voice is like a balm soothing sunburns, or nectar when he’s battling away wounds and bruises, or… well, it’s Annabeth’s voice, and it’s better than any other sound he’s ever heard.
“I’m going to kill him.”
“I think Nico might first.”
Percy considers the dark-clothed boy sitting as far away from Leo on the same log as he can. His shoulders are hunched so high that his head has mostly disappeared into the fluff of his aviator jacket, and even without seeing his face Percy can tell it’s somewhere between a grimace and a murderous glare. Annabeth nudges Percy’s shoulder and nods to Leo, who has broken into the next verse.
It’s not Percy who interrupts the campfire song, which Leo seems determined to finish. Instead Frank finally groans and shakes his head.
“Please stop,” he implores, and Leo smiles that impish grin, and it’s Percy’s turn to groan as Leo changes key and opens his mouth wider.
“There’s a spot on the frog on the log in the hole in the bottom of the sea!”
Annabeth is trying so hard not to laugh; Percy can see it in the way her lips purse, her eyes crinkle, her shoulders shaking just enough to be visible. She shakes her head a little.
“Let him have this,” she requests gently, and all the anger billows out of Percy like a bellows.
Leo’s acting differently; they’ve all noticed it. He looks more distant, too old, like he’s not quite in the right place anymore. His eyes always drift towards the nearest sea or ocean or lake or puddle or river, and his mouth sags, and he sighs with such loss that anyone can tell it’s painful to be him. Percy wants to ask, and has held off, afraid Leo might actually tell him. It isn’t that he doesn’t care, or that he doesn’t want to know, but if it’s so painful for Leo to even think about, Percy doesn’t want to drudge up more.
So Leo continues, his head tilted back and mouth wide open and voice cracking at the too-high pitch, and Hazel buries her ear against Frank’s shoulder and tries not to wince while Frank wilts under the musical onslaught. Annabeth leans contentedly into Percy, settling her head on his lap, and the night suddenly gets a lot warmer, and a lot nicer.
Alright, maybe one more verse of ‘Hole in the Bottom of the Sea’ won’t be too bad. He’ll give Leo that. Then he’s jumping across the campfire and strangling him just a little. Maybe.
Or they could just move on and sing ‘It’s a Small World’. The night is young, after all.