Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Honestly, Paul, it's been years. I get that it's a bit of a drive, but that’s no excuse to miss Christmas for the third time in a row.”

“I– I know mom, and I’m sorry, but it’s just… not in the cards right now.”

Cynthia Blofis pursed her lips. There was no way in hell he was getting away with this. Her son was a busy man, a bigshot New Yorker now, with a good teaching job at a nice school that required a lot of effort to keep. She understood that. She understood that if he came, he probably wouldn’t be able to stay the full week that the rest of her children and their families’ were. But here he was, calling her for the first time in weeks just a few days before the holidays, and telling her he was skipping out on Christmas. Again. It was unacceptable.

She sighed frustratedly into the receiver. “I just don’t understand what is so important that you can’t come home for Christmas! We’re old, sweetie, we can’t drive from Maine to New York, especially not in this weather.”

“You know I hate to miss it, especially for the third year in a row, but I’ve just got so much work to do–”

“Paul, school let out 3 days ago, and I know damn well you just showed those kids The Muppet Christmas Carol the last few days instead of assigning them any actual work you’d have to grade. Just come over! It’s Christmas, and the last time you saw any of the family was at Thanksgiving 3 years ago. We’re your family, sweetheart, we’re supposed to be together for the holidays. You shouldn’t be spending them alone in your apartment with a cheap fake tree you bought at Lowe’s.”

“I think my tree is actually quite charming, I really enjoy spending time around it–”

“Give me one good reason why you can’t come home, no shoddy excuses.” She said with finality.

On the other line, Paul let out a shaky sigh, then went quiet for a minute.

“Well?”

“Mom, uh… You might want to sit down. I have some… news.”

When he told her, the old handset fell from her grasp, and it took her a full minute before she regained the ability to pick it up.

…

“What the hell do you mean YOU GOT MARRIED?!” Cynthia shrieked.

“Mom, please–”

“Who the hell to?! When did you get married?! What’s her name?! Why didn’t you tell any of us?! When did you get married?! How old is she?! Where did you meet her?! It is a her, right? How long have you even been together?! When did you get married?! Paul William Blofis, when did you get married? ” She barked.

“Her name is Sally Jackson, she’s 39, and she’s the most incredible woman in the whole world. We met at a writing seminar 3 years ago and I’ve never loved someone more.” He said, his voice trembling, but never unsure.

“When. Did. You. Get. Married.” She hissed.

“2 years ago. During the spring. Just in one of her friend’s backyards, it was small. Hardly anyone was at the ceremony, only her closest family.” 

Her ears were ringing. She couldn’t believe it. Paul, her son, her youngest, her own little baby boy, had run off and married some strange woman he’d only known for a few years. In a backyard. Without even telling his own mother. Not even a mention to her, much less an invitation in her direction. Suddenly, she felt like crying.

“–Mom? Oh god, oh– Mom, please don’t cry, it’s okay. God, I’m sorry.” Panicked desperation was clear in Paul’s voice.

Cynthia unsubtly wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “My god, Paul, just– do her parents even know? Or did you leave those poor people in the dark about their child's marriage, too?”

Paul was quiet for a moment, then spoke softly. “Sally doesn’t have any parents. They both passed away when she was 5.”

“Oh.” A pang went through her heart at that. Poor thing, no parents to see her on her big day. No parents to see her on any big day at all. Even if it was some secret wedding she hadn’t been informed of, no one should have to walk down the aisle all alone.

“Yeah.”

“Sweetie, I still don’t understand why you didn’t tell any of us.” She paused. “You didn’t tell the rest of the family and just exclude me, did you?”

“No! No, nothing like that, mom. I didn’t tell anybody in the family. Sally’s just not used to being around that big of a family. She was raised by an uncle, and after he passed, she was on her own. I didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable by introducing her to all of you at once, and on her wedding day too. And I knew if I told you, everybody would try to come anyway. I didn’t wanna do that to her.” He explained.

Cynthia sighed deeply. She knew their family was a big and bold one, and that that could be intimidating to someone who grew up without one. She could respect those wishes for privacy, but she still wasn’t pleased about being left completely out of the loop about one of the biggest days of her child’s life.

Despite all this being revealed to her so quickly– and over the phone, no less– her resolve to get her baby boy home just strengthened.

“Paul, I am absolutely furious that you didn’t tell me about your secret wedding and your secret wife, and I am definitely going to take at least a decade to get over it. But I need you to know that you’re still my baby, and I still love you more than anything. And you and this Sally girl are more than welcome here for the holidays.”

“Thank you, mom. I love you too. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything.” Paul said, audibly relieved.

Cynthia took a second to quietly enjoy the peace of the moment. Suddenly, a realization struck her.

“Wait a moment, you said the only guests at the wedding were her closest family members. If she doesn’t have any parents and her uncle is gone, then who was there?”

The line went completely quiet. Paul’s breathing had even stopped. He inhaled an unsteady breath.

“Sally’s son, Percy.”

It was like someone had erased all their progress and pressed replay on the whole conversation.

“What the hell do you mean HER SON?!” Cynthia shrieked. Questions spilled from her lips by the dozen– How old is he? Is he your son, too? Do I have a new grandchild that I don’t know about? When did Sally have him? How the hell did you keep this a secret? How the hell COULD you keep this a secret?

Paul sighed deeply. The two of them seemed to have been doing that a lot over the course of the conversation. “Sally had him with, uh… a man she was with when she was in her early twenties. Percy is 17 now, and Sally and his biological father haven’t been together for his whole life. He’s such a good kid, and I’d honestly look into legally adopting him if I didn’t think his father would incinerate me on the spot for it.”

Once again, Cynthia was frozen in complete shock. She was definitely going to need a drink after this. Maybe 3.

“So his father is still in the picture? And yet you’re absolutely certain that Sally and this man haven’t been seeing each other in this kid’s lifetime?” She asked incredulously.

“The answer to the first question is pretty complicated, but they absolutely are no longer romantically involved whatsoever. Trust me."

“What do you mean by complicated?”

“Well… Percy didn’t know his father until he was 12 years old. And he usually only visits Percy on his birthday and during emergencies. Other than that, Percy has just started visiting him once every month or so. They’re not very close, but they're on good terms.”

Cynthia was in disbelief. Paul had married a woman in less time than it took for him to start and finish high school, a woman with a child from a previous relationship whom was a flimsy presence at best, and had conveniently not mentioned either of these facts to a single soul in his own family. And she couldn’t help but wonder…

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding coming home?” She whispered.

Paul was quiet. “I’m so sorry, mom.”

The urge to cry came back full force. Along with numerous other feelings. Sadness. Hurt. Shock. Disbelief. Indignant, indescribable rage. Above all, love.

She had already worn the title of mother and then grandmother like a badge of honor. Paul was her third and final child, and the older two both had spouses and children of their own. She already had 5 beautiful, amazing grandchildren that she loved with all of her heart. They were some of the most precious things on the earth to her, and she made her love very well known.

Goddamn if she was going to let the one grandchild she didn’t know about go without that same love.

“Paul Blofis, my son,” She said sternly, “There is only one way in the world you could possibly make this up to me, and to the rest of the family.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. Whatever it is, mom, I’ll do it, I swear.”

Perfect. Now he was bound by honor. There was no way of escape. “Bring Sally and Percy with you to Christmas this year. No other way, honey.”

…

One and a half long hours of arguing, playing the not-invited-to-my-son’s-wedding card, guilty apologies, and intensive planning later, Cynthia Rose Blofis was very proud to say that Paul and his hitherto unknown family would be attending the Blofis family Christmas gathering. They would arrive on the 20th, along with everybody else, and stay the whole week. Just like the rest of the family.

She slumped down beside her husband onto their well-worn couch, and let out a huge exhale.

“What’s the matter? Is Paul flaking on Christmas again this year?” Her husband asked, obviously miffed at the idea.

Cynthia shook her head. “No, he’s coming, Anthony. He’ll be here with the rest of them, stay the whole week.”

Anthony blinked in surprise, then visibly relaxed at the news. “Oh. Good, that’s good. Haven’t seen my boy in years.”

She hummed. “Yeah. Oh, and he’s bringing his secret wife and stepson with him.”

“WHAT.”

Chapter Text

Cynthia stood up from her spot on the couch and checked the open window for the millionth time that day. Like all the other times, nothing new– no body new– had pulled into the driveway. She began pacing.

“Mom, you're making me anxious. It's gonna be okay.” Her oldest daughter assured her.

“Elizabeth, he called and told me he left the house at 10 this morning. It's past 9 o'clock at night and there's still no sign of him. I'm allowed to be nervous.” She replied.

“You know it's already a long drive for him, mama. Plus, it's Christmastime in New York, he's probably been going from traffic pile to traffic pile since he left.” David, her middle son, reasoned.

Cynthia worried her lip. All that was true, but she couldn't help but worry after Paul anyways. She trusted that he would come; he wasn't the type to break his promises, especially not ones made in a situation like this, yet the fear that something had scared him off totally was still dancing around her head.

What if his wife had convinced him that he shouldn't come and he hadn't had the heart to tell her? What if his stepson had gotten sick and he was taking care of him and didn't have the time to let her know? What if they did come, and his wife wasn't really the great woman Paul said she was? What if his stepson wasn't really so sweet? What if Sally was catty, and rude, and taking advantage of her son? What if her son Percy was the same, a bully to all the other kids?

“You gotta admit to being curious as all hell about this, though.” David said, snapping her out of the anxious circles she'd been pacing.

Elizabeth chuckled and took a sip from her wine glass. “Yeah, not everyday your brother reveals a secret family. Wonder if anybody else coming has a spare kid or two they've neglected to tell us about.”

“Hm, maybe cousin Rachel. We don’t see her a whole lot, she could have one we missed.”

“I don’t think so, she’s too vain to not brag about how great of a mother she’d be, she couldn’t keep it secret.”

“Oh, hush, you two. I'm not happy about Paul forgetting– no, refusing to tell us he got married and now has a stepson either. But Paul says they're good people, and we are going to treat them as such and do our best to make them feel welcome. It's Christmas, we're not going to shun our guests before we even meet them.” Cynthia scolded.

Elizabeth and David glanced at each other from across their spots on the couch, looking chastised. Cynthia checked the window again, and resumed her pacing.

Elizabeth sighed. “I'm sorry, mom, but I guess I'm still a little suspicious of this whole situation. I just don’t get why he wouldn't tell us about them if they're really so great.”

“Paul said neither of them ever had much family, so they'd be overwhelmed by all of us. I told you that.”

“Yeah, but even if he didn't want everybody to know about it, why not at least tell you and dad he was seeing someone?” David cut in. “He didn't have to invite the whole brood to the wedding, but an announcement couldn't have done much harm. Why keep them such a secret if there’s nothing he thinks we wouldn’t approve of?”

Cynthia shrugged and shook her head in exasperation. “I guess we'll just have to wait until they get here to see.”

As if on cue, the muffled sound of a car door slamming shut came from the driveway. Elizabeth choked on her wine, and Cynthia and David jumped out of their skins. They all stared at each other for a moment, frozen, unsure of what to do, before Cynthia jumped out of her seat and flew towards the front door. 

Paul was already a few feet from the front porch when she swung the door open. He looked up with a slightly startled expression, bags slung over his shoulder. Cynthia ran forward, footsteps crunching on the thin layer of snow, and wrapped her son in a bone-crushing hug.

“Don't you dare stay away from home that long ever again. I missed you, sweetie.” She said.

“Hi, mom. I missed you too.” Paul said, awkwardly trying to hug her back without dropping his luggage in the snow.

Eventually, she released the hug, and stepped back to look her son over. Behind him, carrying suitcases and wearing thinly disguised expressions of alarm, were a middle aged woman and a young man.

“Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry, please come in, you all must be freezing out here.” She said hurriedly, grabbing one of the smaller bags from Paul's arms and leading the way inside.

She heard them shuffle up the porch awkwardly, and gently shut the door behind them with a soft click. Elizabeth and David hovered near the entrance to the living room, watching the four of them conspicuously. She gave them both a sharp look.

“I'll, uh. I'll go get dad.” David muttered, and disappeared up the stairs.

“...And I should make sure the kids are actually in bed.” Elizabeth said quietly, and scrambled upstairs after her brother.

Satisfied, Cynthia turned back to her youngest and his family. Paul looked the same as ever, though he wore a slightly terrified expression that was rather out of place on him. The woman standing to the right of him was pretty, in a subtle sort of way. She had bright blue eyes, and soft laughter lines wrinkled her face. Her long brown hair had a few grey streaks in it and was braided down her back, falling against her dark green coat. 

There wasn’t much physical resemblance between her and the teenager in terms of appearance, but their expressions and the way they held themselves were identical; light but confident. His curly dark hair was slightly messed up from the long car ride, and his intense green eyes looked tired. A beaded leather necklace peaked out of his worn hoodie, emblazoned with AHS SWIM TEAM in bright blue letters.

Paul cleared his throat. “Guys, I would like you to meet my mom, Cynthia.”

The woman stepped forward a bit and offered a small smile. She opened her mouth to speak, but Cynthia beat her to it.

“Sally! I would say I've heard so much about you, but Paul has been frustratingly cryptic these past couple days. I'm very happy to meet you.” She exclaimed, reaching out to hug her.

Sally looked slightly taken aback at the gesture, but she gently returned the hug. “It’s an honor to meet you, Cynthia. I’m so sorry we got here so late, but there was just so much traffic everywhere we went.”

Cynthia assured her it wasn’t a problem, but she still looked a bit guilty about it. The young man moved to stand next to his mother, a polite smile on his lips and his hand out to shake.

“I'm Percy, ma'am. It's nice to meet you, thank you for having us.”

Cynthia smiled and took his hand. “Oh, please, there's no need for that kind of formality here, you can just call me Cynthia. Or grandma, if you’d like. It's nice to meet you too, Percy.”

Percy’s smile widened a fraction. “I can do that.”

Behind them, the stairs creaked, and down came her husband. Paul looked up, and Percy and Sally resumed their anxious positions.

“Son.” Anthony said gruffly.

“Dad. I missed you.” Paul smiled.

“Missed you too.”

Sally and Percy glanced between the two of them, obviously confused, but Cynthia just smiled. Paul had always been close with his father. Despite his rough demeanor, Anthony was truly a softy at heart, which was evident when he stepped forward and hugged him even harder than she had. Paul gently slapped him on the back twice, then stepped back and held a hand out to signal to Percy and Sally.

“Dad, I’d, uh– I’d like you to meet my family.” He said awkwardly.

Once again, Sally stepped forward with a smile on her face. “Um, Sally Jackson, Mr. Blofis. It’s lovely to meet you, Paul’s told me all about you.”

Anthony nodded. “You too. Anthony’s fine.”

Sally nodded in return with a tight lipped smile. “Anthony, then.”

Percy, who up until this point had looked vaguely intimidated by Paul’s father, moved forward with his chin up and his hand out. 

“I’m Percy, sir, Paul’s stepson. It’s nice to meet you.” He said.

Anthony’s eyebrows raised just slightly. He grasped Percy’s outstretched hand and gave it a firm shake. “You too.” 

Cynthia clasped her hands together in delight. Her husband was a rather old-fashioned sort of man, one who cared about etiquette and all the other old rules of politeness that she tended to find tedious in most cases. Entering with sir on his lips and a handshake with hardly any hesitation? Percy had immediately managed to score himself some positive points with that gesture, Sally too.

“Alright, well, it’s late, so everyone else is already in bed, and I’m sure you all must be exhausted from that drive. You’ll all be staying in Paul’s old room for tonight, if that’s alright.” She explained, already dragging a random suitcase towards the room.

“That sounds great.” Paul said.

Sally and Percy regathered the rest of their things and hurried after them, whispering softly to each other from a few paces behind. Cynthia leaned in to whisper in her son’s ear.

“So far, so good. Hope we haven’t already scared them off.” She said.

Paul chuckled softly. “Sally and Percy don’t really scare easy. They’re both tougher than they look.”

Cynthia quirked an eyebrow, but didn’t inquire further. She figured she’d find out what he meant in time.

But, as far as she had seen, everything her son had promised her about his family over the phone was completely true. Sally was a sweetheart right out of the gate, and Percy was such a well-mannered and considerate kid. They both thanked her graciously when they arrived at Paul’s old room, bid her goodnight, and promised to properly meet everyone in the morning.

A very successful evening indeed.

For the past 15 years or so, Cynthia, her sisters, sisters-in-law, a few of the older cousins, and even her ancient Aunt Phyllis, had woken up bright and early on the days of Christmas vacation to huddle around the breakfast table, huge mugs of coffee in hand, and gossip. Years ago, when he was still in college, David had dubbed the group ‘The High Council’, which always made Aunt Betty huff and Cynthia giggle.

The morning after the arrival of Paul and Co., The High Council reconvened with renewed vigor. This was bigger than what that harpy Gertrude had said about Evelyn’s lovely casserole after church last month; it was the introduction of entirely new family members, ones they had been kept in the dark about for several years. As the only one present who had actually met the mysterious new wife and stepson, all eyes had been laid on Cynthia, questions buzzing in the air, some good and some bad.

“So is the wife a slimy little gold-digger like I said she would be?”

“Was she forcing Paul to stay in New York with her? Is that why he missed Christmas last year?”

“Was her kid some snotnosed brat? You know, most teenagers are like that nowadays, no respect.”

…Alright, mostly bad.

Cynthia shook her head emphatically. “No! Paul swore up and down that they were the best people in the whole world on the phone, and they really were!”

Betty, the little gossip, slumped over disappointedly in her seat at the news that her nephew’s new wife was not actually some horrid wench, while everyone else made little noises of surprise and curiosity.

“Sally– that’s his wife’s name, remember I told you– was just the sweetest thing. They didn’t get here till late, and the poor thing apologized to me even though she was clearly exhausted. And when Anthony came down, she introduced herself like a teenaged kid meeting their sweetheart’s parents for the first time, so polite.”

A couple of the cousins cooed, while everybody else stared with rapt attention.

“What about her son? I heard he’s a troublemaker, been to juvie twice in the past 3 years.”

“Oh, where on earth would you have heard that, Marjorie, Paul’s the only one who knows anything about the kid!”

“I just know things, Alice! Don’t question my intel!”

Cynthia rolled her eyes. “The kid’s name is Percy, and he’s just as nice as his mother. Carried his mom’s bags to Paul’s room for her like a little gentleman and thanked me for inviting him. And, you’ll never guess what he did when Anthony came down.”

The entire group leaned forward, gripping their mugs, and Cynthia leaned in to match them.

“He shook Anthony’s hand and called him sir, before Anthony could even offer a handshake of his own.” She announced.

The council erupted into excited gasps and approving whispers, all very well acquainted with her husband’s chivalric values. Cynthia leaned back in her seat, watching it all unfold. She took a long, slow sip of her coffee.

“Wow, if I was curious before, now I need to meet these mystery people.” Someone exclaimed. Murmurs of agreement sounded all around the table.

Despite Cynthia’s high praises of the two, very little was actually known about Sally and Percy Jackson–

( “She kept her last name? That has to be a sign of some kind.” “Yeah, a sign that she doesn’t want to live her life haunted by blowfish jokes.” )

–And the conversation quickly delved into aimless speculation about the nature of the mother and son.

Now, Cynthia’s firm belief in the idea of speak of the devil was reaffirmed when, not 15 minutes into an animated debate about whether or not Percy was just being polite because his mom was watching, the boy in question stumbled distractedly into the dining room, still wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“Hey Paul, do you know where– oh. Um.” He glanced around the table, taking in the large number of unfamiliar faces all staring at him intensely.

“What can I help you with, Percy?” Cynthia asked, smiling in a way she hoped was reassuring.

“I was just, ah–” He cleared his throat, “Wondering where Paul is.”

“Oh, he always gets up early to take the dog out for a walk. He should be back in about 20 minutes or so.”

“Oh. Okay, thank you, Mrs. Blofis.” He said, and turned to leave.

“Wait a minute! Percy, why don’t you join us? We’re not doing anything important over here, you’re not interrupting anything. It’ll give you a chance to meet everyone– or, well, some of everyone, at least.”

Percy was a deer staring into headlights. 10, nosy, gossipy headlights, that he had absolutely no means of escaping.

“Come on! Don’t be shy, it’s just us old ladies right now, no one else is up this early. Nothing to be afraid of.” Cynthia assured him. 

This was only partially true. While it really was just a bunch of old ladies right now and would be for a while, there were, in reality, many, many things to be afraid of.

Percy had obviously picked up on this, and was hesitantly glancing around the table. Cynthia patted the only free seat, the one next to her, and Percy semi-reluctantly walked over. He sat down stiffly, still in his pajamas from the night before. He wore faded blue flannel pajama pants, and that same old swim team hoodie over top of whatever shirt he was wearing.

Ever the vulture, Betty noticed the text silkscreened on the front right away and lifted an eyebrow. “Swim team, huh? Are you on the school team?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Are you any good?”

A slight smirk tugged at Percy's mouth, which he quickly suppressed. “I try, miss. I'm on the varsity team, so I must be doing something right.”

Betty looked entirely too pleased at being called ma'am and miss unprompted, so Cynthia cut in before Percy’s innate politeness started getting to her head.

“That’s very interesting! What got you into that?” She asked.

Percy had started to visibly relax at now being in more familiar territory. His barely-there smile became more genuine.

“I guess it's just always come pretty naturally to me. This is only my second year on the team, but I've loved the water basically my whole life. Me and my mom used to spend weekends on the beach at Montauk every summer when I was a kid and I’d spend the whole time sitting in the ocean. It’s like…” He trailed off.

“Like it’s in your blood?” Cynthia summarized.

Percy cracked a wide grin, like she had just said something totally hilarious and didn’t realize it. “Something like that.”

“And I bet it gets you all the girls, too! Ladies love an athletic guy.” Aunt Alice said conspiratorially, taking a long sip from her mug.

Percy blushed awkwardly. “Actually, I've already got a girlfriend.”

Oh, the poor, young fool. He fell right into her sister's trap. Now the interrogation would never end.

Questions flew left and right, all of them talking over one another. What's her name? Is she pretty? How long have they been going out? Is she a nice girl? What does she want to do for college? How'd they meet? Was she his classroom crush? 

Percy looked vaguely terrified, yet still somehow managed to sufficiently answer their prying questions without putting his poor girlfriend completely on blast when she wasn't even present to defend herself.

“Her name is Annabeth. We met at summer camp when we were 12, and we've been dating for a little over a year.” He said carefully.

The entire table aww'd in unison.

“That’s so cute, you don't normally see teenagers staying together that long!” Someone cooed.

Again, a deep blush crept down Percy’s cheeks, and a lovestruck look crossed his face. “Yeah. I guess I'm lucky enough to have found someone that I really want to stay with.”

The aww ing increased tenfold. Cynthia was happy to have added to it.

“So are you two classmates together at Goode, then? That must be fun, having your stepfather as your teacher and your girlfriend as your classmate.” One of the cousins asked innocently.

“Oh, uh–” 

Then, like Percy’s knight in shining jeans-and-a-sweater, saving him from awkward conversations with unfamiliar aunts, Sally Jackson walked through the kitchen doorway.

“Percy, sweetie– Oh! Good morning, ladies. I don’t believe I've met you all.” She said, smiling.

The High Council quickly adjourned, and all rose to introduce themselves to the woman they had been whispering about for days. After they had all told them their names and what a nice young man she had raised, and Sally in turn had uttered about a thousand nice to meet you ’s and aw, thanks a lot ’s in response, a fresh mug of coffee was pressed into her hands and a slightly less interrogative conversation began amongst them. Percy discreetly crept away from the aunts and towards his mother’s side, something that made Cynthia chuckle under her breath.

This state of relative peace managed to last all of 15 minutes, before the thumping of several small pairs of feet hopping out of bed sounded from upstairs, and the floodgates opened.

“THEY’RE HERE!”

Chapter Text

Cynthia’s grandchildren barrelled down the stairs like an avalanche descending upon a small and woefully unprepared mountain village, followed quickly by their frantic parents, who were whisper-yelling at them to calm down and be quiet.

Try as you might, trying to keep family drama under the rug was an inevitably fruitless endeavor. Especially when your family drama was something like secret family members being discovered via a single phone call. This meaning that, all the grandchildren already knew about Uncle Paul’s secret wife Sally and secret son Percy, and had been absolutely fascinated with the idea of them. 

Nora, Elizabeth’s 15 year old daughter and the family’s oldest grandchild, had reportedly spent the past few days wheedling any tiny bit of information (read: rumors) about the two of them out of her parents that she could. David’s 3 kids’ opinions had ranged from highly suspicious of these newcomers to not caring as long as they had someone new to play with at family events. On the other hand, Emmy, Elizabeth’s youngest and by far most excitable daughter, had been so elated by the news that she spent the entire day of her arrival asking after Uncle Paul and his family and sharing her grand theories about them.

Now, she raced into the kitchen ahead of everybody else, darting between the legs of the people blocking the doorway. Frantically, she searched for a face she didn’t yet know. When her eyes locked on Percy, she shot forward and wrapped her tiny arms around his legs, effectively attaching herself to him.

“Hi, I’m Emmy, are you my secret new cousin?” She asked innocently.

Before Percy could even begin to respond to the question, Elizabeth burst into the room and snatched her daughter off of him.

“Emmy! You can’t just start latching yourself onto other people, it’s rude!” She scolded.

A small laugh escaped Percy, and he crouched slightly to be eye level with Emmy from her spot in her mother's arms.

“Hi, Emmy. I'm Percy, Paul's stepson.” 

She gasped softly. “So you are my new cousin.”

“Yup.” He smiled.

Emmy stared at him with all the unwavering scrutiny of a 5 year old meeting a new family member. Percy held her gaze, albeit far less intensely. Her eyes narrowed. His eyebrows raised.

“Do you think sharks are cool?” She asked finally.

Percy blinked. “I think sharks are the coolest.”

“What kind are your favorite?”

“Hm, I’ve met a lot of really nice thresher sharks.”

A grin split Emmy's face, and she turned to her mother. “Okay! He can stay.”

The entire room broke into laughter, except for Emmy, who had absolutely no idea what was so funny. Suddenly, the rest of the children managed to break through the doorway, their parents still chasing after them. 

They all crashed into the room in one giant explosion, ramming into each other and completely ignoring their parents and one very harried Anthony. All of their heads whipped around, quickly searching for the newcomers just as Emmy had. Nora noticed Sally and Percy, who were standing in the corner by the stove looking startled, first. When she noticed them, she nudged Thomas, who tapped Sofie, who poked Luca, who poked Sofie back in retaliation just because he felt like it.

They stared. Excessively.

Cynthia cleared her throat to break the tense silence. “Sally, Percy, these are the grandkids. Kids, this is Paul’s wife Sally, and Sally's son Percy. Say hi.”

A chorus of awkward and unsure variations of hello sounded. Sally and Percy each uttered their own in return.

Emmy raised her chin and pointed a stubby finger directly at Percy. “Percy likes sharks, that means he’s cool and on my team.”

This managed to snap the group out of their weird version of a staring contest, and they immediately all began arguing over top of each other.

“Why do you get to have first pick? You’re 5, you can barely even throw!”

“We don't even know if he's any good–”

“He's older than all of us, that's not fair!”

“–Honestly, it'll probably help you if you just give him to me–”

“I'm your sister, Emily, how could you pick him before your own sister?”

But Emmy stayed firm in her decision. “Nope. Percy is with me.” She declared stubbornly.

Hesitantly, as if not to accidentally invoke the wrath of the toddler in front of him that was apparently deciding his fate for him, Percy raised his hand. Emmy nodded at him.

“What, exactly, am I on your team for?” He asked.

Emmy stared at him. “It snowed more last night. We're having a snowball fight.” She said, like that should be perfectly obvious.

Beside her son, a smile began spreading its way along Sally's face. “Oh, that sounds like a lot of fun.”

The front door opened and shut in the other room, and a small terrier scuttled into the kitchen and settled at Anthony’s feet. Paul entered shortly after, and glanced around the room before his gaze settled on Sally.

“What sounds like fun?” He asked.

Sally's smile widened and she shrugged. “Just Percy in a snowball fight.”

“Oh.” Paul grinned, “Yeah, that does sound like fun.”

…

Hardly an hour later, after all had scarfed down some form of breakfast at the insistence of their parents, the kids of the Blofis family all stood in the snowy backyard, bundled up against the cold wind. Percy was still wearing his precious hoodie, but this time with the added bonus of a sherpa lined denim jacket and a blue knit beanie, decorated with tiny embroidered sea creatures. The younger kids were not so lucky, wearing snowsuits and puffer jackets so thick they could barely put their arms down. Teams were quickly decided. Wasting no time at all, Emmy grabbed Percy’s gloved hand and began marching him to the opposite side of the yard, Sofie jogging behind them. 

Underneath a few inches of snow that reflected the morning sunlight beautifully, the yard looked picturesque. It was surrounded on all sides by tall trees of varying species, the grass dotted with hydrangea bushes and lilac plants around the edges. All of the plants were adorned with dustings of snow and even a few small icicles. A white wrought iron bench was placed near the door to the back porch.

Emmy stopped them on the far side of the yard, right next to a short stone wall that created a small garden around the outside of the house.

“Here,” She said, and she and her cousin immediately got to work.

They both grabbed huge chunks of snow in their arms, packing it tightly together in a long strip between themselves and the opposing team. Pretty quickly, Percy took the hint and copied them, building up the height of the wall until it was tall enough for him to comfortably take cover. In 15 minutes, the wall already stretched across 6 feet and stood at about 4 feet, several inches above Emmy’s head.

“Sofie, start making snowballs. Nora’s gonna make Luca and Thomas come after us as fast as possible. Me and Percy will keep making the wall better.” She commanded.

Sofie grumbled a little, but sat down and started balling fistfulls of snow together anyways. 

“So, Emmy, how do we know when we’ve won the snowball fight?” Percy asked, carefully reinforcing the (unusually frozen) base of the wall.

Emmy turned to look Percy in the eyes, a deadly serious expression on her face. “When they beg for mercy.”

After a pile of just 4 snowballs had been made by Sofie and a fifth was being molded, the attack began. A single snowball as big as an overstuffed softball whistled through the cold air, and hit Sofie squarely in the face. A victorious cheer went up from the enemy trenches. 

“TAKE COVER!” Emmy screamed at the top of her lungs.

Emmy, Percy, and Sofie all hit the ground accordingly. Soon, lopsided snowballs of every shape and size would be raining down upon them, and they hardly had the stockpile to retaliate accordingly.

Luckily, Emmy’s decision to get Percy on her side paid off pretty quickly.

He jumped up onto the balls of his feet, grabbing one of the precious few premade snowballs, and launched it at the opposite side. There was a shout as it connected with the wall that they had built on the other half of the yard. Quickly, he grabbed a huge handful of loose snow and pressed it together into what was the roughest approximation of a ball you could make in half a second. Again, he lobbed it at the other team, only this time it was met with more prominent results. As the snowball hit the wall, a muffled crack came with it. This was followed by screams of terror and the sounds of snow being frantically shuffled around as the enemy wall crumbled under the impact of Percy’s snowball.

( “Holy shit, Paul, does your kid do fastpitch or something?” “Nope.” )

“THEIR DEFENSES ARE DOWN! FIRE AT WILL!” Sofie shouted, and punctuated the sentence by throwing a tiny, rock-hard snowball at her older brother.

All hell broke loose. They may not have had artillery ready to go, but with the enemy’s defenses completely destroyed, Emmy’s team managed to gain the upper hand. Snowballs flew from both sides, all with greatly varying levels of accuracy (and frozenness). Through it all, their wall held steady. 

In a very short amount of time, Percy’s hair was white with snow. Sofie targeted her brothers almost exclusively and roared in victory every time they fell back with an oof . Emmy nailed her older sister in the face more than enough times for it to be embarrassing for Nora.

Evidently tired of getting a disproportionately lower number of hits, the opposing team gathered up armfuls of their slowly depleting snowball stock, and charged forward with a loud battle cry. Sofie shrieked, flung a snowball into Luca’s face, and ran for the treeline. Emmy and Percy dashed after her, abandoning their carefully crafted citadel for the glory of open air battle.

They paid for it dearly, getting pummeled from all angles no matter how hard they tried to dodge, shrieking and giggling all the way. Percy somehow managed to throw a couple loose handfuls of snow in the general direction of their attackers without slowing down, but other than that, they were completely uncovered.

Sofie made it to the edge of the yard first, disappearing into a small clump of bushes. Emmy and Percy managed to hide themselves behind a few of the thicker trees. Just a short distance away, the footsteps of their assailants crunched through the fresh snow. There were only a few patches of white on the ground where the snow had managed to drift through gaps in the tree branches, not much to make ammunition out of. But, just enough for a distraction.

Slowly, silently, Percy grabbed a handful of snow and packed it together. Taking care to keep himself hidden behind the tree, he chucked the snowball at a low hanging tree branch 10 feet from the ones he and Emmy were hiding behind.

“There!” Nora shouted as it made contact with the tree.

As they raced towards the area the snowball had hit, Percy and Emmy scuttled closer to the bushes Sofie had vanished into. Before either of them could even begin to strategize a means of winning, a golden opportunity presented itself.

Taking care to quiet the rustling of the branches surrounding her, Sofie emerged from the bush, carrying the one surviving snowball from their meager stockpile. Percy’s eyes widened, and a grin broke across his face, a lightbulb going off over his head. Silently, Percy bent down and gathered all the snow from one of the few patches, and packed it onto the snowball. Sofie caught on quickly and grinned up at him. Emmy had to clamp her hands over her mouth to stop her delighted cackling. 

Sofie stood at the front of the group as the designated Snowball of Doom bearer, creeping carefully towards her brothers and cousin while Percy and Emmy flanked her sides, smaller snowballs at the ready. The opposing trio were standing together under the trees, debating whether or not Nora had just hallucinated the tree moving. Their backs were turned, the moment was perfect. Sofie raised the snowball above her head, drew it back…

…And released it.

…

When the group entered the house again, every single kid was shaking snow from their hair and out of their hoods. Paul, along with his brother and brother in law, who had been watching the whole dramatic ordeal from the windows, laughed and congratulated him on his evil genius before rushing off to get their own kids into drier clothes before the snow melted all over the hardwood floors. Percy walked back to his mom’s/Paul’s/his room to do the same, a light feeling in his chest.

Chapter Text

Cynthia stared down at the shriveled brown domes sitting on the cookie sheet, confused. She was certain she had done everything right. The correct ingredients, the correct baking time, everything. Her chocolate chip cookies should not look like piles of baked deer crap.

“I think that maybe something may have gone wrong somewhere along the way.” Her niece Celia said, peering over her shoulder.

Cynthia shook her head in disbelief. “Apparently so, but I have no idea what I could have done. I followed all the instructions on the back of the bag! ¼ cup of sugar, ¼ cup of brown sugar, bag of chocolate chips…”

Celia looked at her skeptically and grabbed the empty chocolate chip bag off the counter, putting on her reading glasses. She squinted at the ingredients list. “Aunt Cynthia, this says it calls for ¾ cup of sugar and ¾ cup of brown sugar.”

Not for the first time in her life and probably not for the last, Cynthia cursed her shoddy old lady's eyesight. Sally looked over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised.

“Everything alright over there?” She called from her dough-kneading station on the other side of the kitchen.

Cynthia sighed. “I messed up the chocolate chip cookies.”

“Aw, they just look funny. I’m sure they taste fine.” Celia said reassuringly.

To prove her point, she picked one of the larger ones off the pan and popped it in her mouth. Slowly, her features twisted into a less than pleased expression as she chewed. She swallowed, and shook her head at Cynthia.

“Guess that means I’m gonna have to start over.” Cynthia frowned.

As she dug through the baking cabinet for a fresh bag of chocolate chips, the barely-there sound of footsteps in the hallway caught her attention. When she turned around, Percy was standing in the doorway, staring at the veritable army of cookies of all shapes and sizes scattered across almost every flat surface in the kitchen.

“How’s the baking going?” He asked distractedly, eyeing one fresh batch of snickerdoodles (courtesy of Celia) sitting on the counter to the left of him.

“Oh, Percy! Perfect!” Sally exclaimed, glancing backwards at her son, “Wash your hands, baby, you’re helping us make Christmas cookies.”

Instead of throwing his head back and groaning like she figured most teenage boys his age would’ve at the statement, Percy just shrugged and walked to the sink, doing as he was told. Cynthia couldn’t help but smile– he really was as nice as Paul said.

“What exactly am I helping with, mama?” He asked, wiping his hands off on one of the few non-decorative towels in the kitchen.

Sally nodded in Cynthia’s general direction. “Cynthia ran into some, ah– trouble with her chocolate chips–”

“The trouble being that I’m too blind to read directions.” Cynthia cut in.

“–And she needs to make another batch. Do you remember the recipe? The one that I always use?” 

Percy visibly brightened. “Yeah, of course. But, um–”

He turned to look at Cynthia, a vaguely embarrassed blush on the apples of his cheeks. “Do you happen to have any blue food coloring?”

Cynthia blinked. “Uh, I think so. Why do you need that? They’re just chocolate chip cookies.”

Sally laughed softly. “Blue food is a tradition in our house. Most of my recipes call for it.”

That cleared up one question, and then raised a whole bunch more. One look at Celia told her that she shared the same thought.

Percy and Sally shared a look and a laugh. Percy grabbed a clean mixing bowl and began measuring out the flour.

“It’s been a thing for us since I was a little kid. I guess we just never stopped doing it.” He said.

Celia made a small noise of interest and Cynthia turned towards him to pay more attention to his story. “How’d it start?”

“Well, I was too little to really remember all of it, but basically, mom’s–” A dark look crossed his face for a fraction of a second, but it vanished just as quickly as it had come. “Uh, someone told mom that there were just some things in the world that were impossible and shouldn’t even be attempted, like blue food. But obviously tons of food is blue, even without dye, so they kinda got into an argument about it–”

“ Really ?” Celia said, eyebrows raised, “It’s hard to believe someone as sweet as you, Sally, would get into any kind of disagreement at all. Actually, it's hard to believe that anybody would even disagree with you in the first place, ever.”

“Well, it’s true.” Sally said, her tone playful but strangely tight.

“Yeah, I know, right? She’s like the best person in the whole world, I don’t know how this guy could’ve started an argument over that.” Sally smiled a little at her son’s words, and Cynthia and Celia nodded in agreement.

“But mom doesn’t like that kind of worldview, y’know, that there are some things you’re just never gonna achieve. So she started going out of her way to make as much food blue as she could. Now it’s kindof like a symbol for us, that everything is possible and you shouldn’t let other people tell you what you can and can’t do.” He finished, dumping the sugar (the correct amount, this time) into the bowl.

While she initially had found the blue cookies strange, especially for the Christmas season, Cynthia found herself growing very fond of the idea; particularly the sentiment that Percy had explained.

“That’s lovely, you two. The food dye should be right in that cupboard, the one above– yep, that’s it Percy, there you go.”

Over the span of the next hour or so, Percy proved to be an actually pretty great baker, despite the flour that ended up decorating his t-shirt and jeans. At least, he was as long as they were using his mother’s recipes. His mother’s recipes, by the way, quickly became very sought after by Cynthia and Celia. Sally, however, held them close to her chest, citing the fact that they had been passed down on her mother’s side for generations.

“Maybe,” She had said coyly, “One day you’ll learn them.”

They had just enough ingredients left to make 2 fresh batches of bright blue chocolate chip cookies, more than enough to make up for the one that Cynthia had squandered. By the time 8pm rolled around, all 4 of them had ended up sitting around one of the counters, eating a few of the cookies that had turned out less than pretty but still tasted fine. Percy, of course, was devouring the duds of the blue batch.

As they chatted idly, his phone ding ed and lit up with a notification– someone called “Grover the GOAT !!!!!” wishing him a merry Christmas– but that wasn’t what Cynthia’s attention was drawn to as she peered inconspicuously over his shoulder. On his lockscreen was a photo, taken on a beach surrounded by trees somewhere at sunset. In the photo, sitting cross-legged on the old wooden dock, was a very pretty girl about Percy’s age, her blonde curls tied back in a loose ponytail. She wore a bright orange t-shirt, cuffed denim shorts, and dirty white converse, a bandaid covering a long scrape along her left cheek. She was grinning at the camera with one eyebrow raised, and– weirdly enough– casually pointing a very ornate looking dagger at whoever was holding the phone.

“Is that your girlfriend?” Cynthia asked in a way she hoped didn’t sound too prying.

Percy blushed right up to the tips of his ears and smiled. “Yeah, that’s Annabeth, last summer at camp.”

“Speaking of Annabeth…” He muttered under his breath, “Is it okay with everyone if I go call Annabeth now? I promised her I would before I went to bed.”

Sally smiled and made shooing motions at him, as did the other two ladies. “Go call your lady love, sweetheart, you’ve been helpful enough here.”

Percy smiled widely and thanked them. He quickly stepped around to the other side of the table and gave Sally a peck on the cheek, then made for the doorway.

“Merry Christmas Eve, mama. Cynthia and Celia, merry Christmas Eve to you too.” He said on his way out.

They all returned the sentiment, and went back to their cookies.

Chapter Text

It was 4 o’clock on Christmas morning. Lights were twinkling, children were sleeping, snow was falling, and Percy Jackson was fighting a monster in his step-grandmother’s backyard.

Typical.

Percy dropped to the ground to avoid the slash of talons, getting a faceful of cold snow in the process. The gryphon above him squawked in frustration.

Percy rolled to avoid another slash, and took off in the opposite direction, drawing it away from the house. When he had awoken to the sounds of snow crunching outside his window half an hour ago, he had to admit that this was not what he expected. He thought he'd find a deer or a raccoon or something, wandering around the backyard. Part of him, the part that was perpetually anxious and always dreading the worst, worried that one of his younger cousins had decided that an unsupervised midnight jaunt in the freezing cold was a good idea.

Instead, he was greeted by a scraggly looking gryphon, dragging a scrap of gold wrapping paper it probably stole from someone’s trash through the snowy backyard. Unfortunately for Percy, the back door had squeaked when he opened it, and he barely had 2 seconds to uncap Riptide before the gryphon was on him and abandoning its find. He quickly discovered that the phrase dashing through the snow was not nearly as fun in practice as the Christmas carols made it sound.

So here he was, fighting a mythical garbage beast in his pajamas and untied converse on Christmas morning. Somehow one of the less weird things he’d ever done. Right now, his only goals were to kill the gryphon without waking any of his relatives, and without getting himself killed in the process. He wanted to say he was succeeding at the moment, but he also had enough experience being a demigod to know better than to jinx himself like that. 

As he ran, he heard the beating of wings close overhead, accompanied by more furious squawking. He knew the gryphon was probably right on his ass, but he didn’t dare look back. This turned out to be a bad move on Percy’s part, because he quickly felt a sharp stabbing pain in the middle of his back, followed by the feeling of very swiftly becoming weightless. He couldn’t swing Riptide at the gryphon that was currently trying to carry him away for Christmas dinner from this angle, but that wouldn’t stop him from trying. After a couple desperate swings, he managed to jab the monster between the ribs with the pommel of his sword just hard enough to make it drop him, causing him to plummet 10 feet into only a few inches of freshly fallen snow.

Percy allowed himself exactly 2 seconds after he faceplanted into the ground to think ow and to question all of the life choices that led him to this moment. To be fair, most of the things that led Percy to being attacked by a glorified trash demon at ass o’clock in the morning were absolutely not his fault– he didn’t sign up to be a demigod, after all– but he was still regretting several things. He forced himself to his feet just as the gryphon dove, managing to put a little bit of distance between him and it before it could fillet him instantly. 

In the distance, he heard the quiet sounds of waves crashing on the beach, and a part of him wondered if the wild run he would have to do to get to the shore was worth the advantage it would give him. He still had control over the snow on the ground, true, but pelting the thing with snowballs was not as helpful as having unrestricted access to his father’s domain– and, by extension, the full extent of his powers. Still, he focused on freezing the patches the gryphon was standing on until they were too slippery to stand on, making it more difficult for it to attack him.

He watched as it thrashed about wildly like Bambi on ice, slipping in his general direction, and took a moment to collect himself and try to strategize. Gryphons weren’t the smartest monsters, but they also weren’t stupid enough to just let him get close enough to stab it without putting up a fight. He needed a way to get it closer without just risking using himself as bait and letting it shred him to death, needed something to lure it in…

Underneath one of the snow-covered hydrangea bushes, the glint of something shining in the moonlight caught Percy’s eye. There. In all the excitement, the gryphon had dropped its golden wrapping paper in favor of attacking Percy, leaving it where it had previously stood. Percy looked at the gryphon that was sliding ever closer to him, weighing his options; it was dangerous, running past the thing currently trying to eat him in the hopes of getting a distraction.

But when had Percy ever been concerned with such frivilous things as safety?

He made a mad dash for the damp square of foil, never letting the snow slip from his control enough to allow the gryphon to catch up with him. He snatched the gold paper off the ground and whipped around to face the gryphon, holding it high in the air. Its eyes locked on the paper immediately, and the creature went completely still. Slowly, he relinquished his control over the snow, letting it become walkable. The gryphon stepped forward carefully, eyes never leaving the paper. Percy gripped his sword tighter.

It was inches from his outstretched hand now. When its beak opened to nab the paper, Percy lunged forward and struck it with Riptide, impaling it through the heart. It died with a horrible, miserable shriek that almost made Percy feel bad for it. Then he remembered that it had picked him up and dropped him on the hard ground because he dared to breathe the same air as it, and all that sympathy disappeared. The golden dust that accompanied the death of a monster drifted in the air, mixing with the snow and settling on Percy’s hair and clothes.

He stared at it, just letting himself breathe. A moment of peace was nice after how nerve wracking the past few days had been. Paul’s family was great, don’t get him wrong– they were nice and funny and they accepted both him and his mom with little resistance– but there was still something terrifying about being thrust into an entirely new environment, full of people that mattered a lot to someone who mattered a lot to you. A break was needed. Taking his time, he capped Riptide, and walked back into the house. This time, because the universe could never decide whether it was on his side or not, the back door didn’t squeak.

Percy kicked off his shoes and tiptoed back to his parents bedroom. The door shut with a small click behind him, and his mom stirred.

“Percy?” She whispered, squinting in the darkness. Next to her, Paul rolled over slightly.

“Yeah.” He whispered back, walking to where his backpack was sitting on the floor. “There was a gryphon in the backyard. It only nicked me a little bit; I’ll take some ambrosia, I’ll be fine.”

Sally sighed tiredly. “You ran out on the way over, remember? When that emposa attacked you at the gas station?”

Percy stopped rummaging through his things for the ziploc bag of ambrosia squares he usually had with him. He swore in ancient Greek under his breath and dropped his bag.

At all the commotion, Paul finally rolled over all the way and blinked awake. “Perce? Are you okay?”

“Gryphon,” He said by way of explanation, “I’m fine.”

Sally flicked the bedside lamp on, and inhaled a sharp intake of breath when she saw Percy. Paul fumbled for his glasses, put them on, and then did the same. Percy grimaced.

“Percy, sweetie, you’re covered in monster dust, mud, and there’s blood on your shirt. Come here, you need to get cleaned up.” She said, leaving no room for argument.

Percy sighed and sat down at the foot of the bed, showing his mom the cuts from where the gryphon’s talons had dug into his back. She hissed slightly when she peeled his shirt up, and sent Paul to get a wet washcloth from the bathroom. Gently, she brushed some of the gryphon powder from his hair, and he wiped some off his cheeks.

Paul returned from the bathroom, a dripping rag in hand. He silently sat down next to Sally and handed her the rag, who took it and began gently pressing it to the slashes on her son’s back, letting the water drip down as she went. Percy sighed, feeling the water slowly but steadily heal his wounds closed. His skin knitting itself back together was never a pleasant feeling, exactly, but it wasn’t painful either.

“Well, there’s no ichor, so at least the gashes weren’t deep. They all gone? No more cuts I can’t see?” Sally asked softly.

Percy paused, taking stock of his body. “Nope. They’re all gone.”

“Good. Now look at me, you’re not going to bed with all that dirt on your face.” She instructed.

Percy dutifully turned around, scrunching up his nose while his mother scrubbed the dirt and monster gunk off of his face. Paul laughed a little at the sight of it, and Percy tried his best to glare at him through one squinted eye. It probably wasn’t as effective as he hoped.

When she deemed him clean enough to pass out, Percy kissed his mom on the cheek, wished both her and Paul a good night, and collapsed onto the nest he had made from his provided air mattress and blankets for some well needed rest.

...

2 hours later, Percy, along with the rest of the Jackson-Blofis family, was awoken by the sound of Emmy and Lucas running around and shouting excitedly for everyone to wake up for presents. Nobody moved a muscle.

Paul stumbled out of bed first, blearily leaving the bedroom to get coffee for him and Sally (and to beg the little kids to save the screaming for at least another hour), while Sally and Percy curled up tighter into their respective blankets and refused to move.

Paul returned a few minutes later, 2 steaming mugs in each of his hands. “Alright, you two, it’s present time. Up and at ‘em.”

Sally emerged from her comforter to take her cup, while Percy sighed dramatically and continued his mission to become one with the mattress.

“5 more minutes please? I did save you all from a gryphon a few hours ago.” He mumbled.

“Percy, thanks for the gryphon, but it’s Christmas morning with a bunch of little kids in the house. It is physically impossible to sleep in today.” Paul said sympathetically.

Percy grumbled a little under his breath, but otherwise crawled from his bed without complaint. He followed his parents out into the living room, curling up in the corner of the antique couch next to them. Soon, the rest of the family had been corralled into the living room, all settling into various spots surrounding the tree.

Within a few minutes, gift exchanging had already become well underway, people handing boxes to whoever’s name was on it as fast as possible. Sally gasped excitedly at the pair of pearl earrings Percy had been saving up to get her for months, and Paul’s eyes widened at the antique copy of A Christmas Carol he and Annabeth had found at an antique store.

As the gifts under the tree dwindled and the living room slowly filled with discarded wrapped paper, Percy sat happily, holding the new skateboard deck his mom and Paul had gotten for him, as well as the blue striped beanie Cynthia had been nice enough to knit for him. Emmy shot straight up from where she had been sitting with her parents, terror in her eyes.

“WAIT!” She shouted, startling everyone.

Suddenly, she darted upstairs to where her room was located, leaving the entire family looking at each other in confusion. She bolted back down the stairs a few seconds later, a piece of paper hidden behind her back.

She screeched to a halt in front of Percy.

“I have a present for you.” She announced, and presented him with the paper.

He took it from her gingerly, and grinned when he realized what it was. On it was a marker drawing, colored from top to bottom, of a thresher shark. Its tail took up most of the page, and a tiny red crab scuttled along the sand drawn beneath it.

“Do you like it?” Emmy asked nervously.

“I love it.” Percy answered honestly.

Emmy glowed with the force of her smile.

...

Several holiday movies, Christmas cookies, and cups of cocoa later, Percy sat on the floor with his back against the foot of the couch. His mother padded across the floor, her own cocoa mug in hand, and sat down right next to him.

“Did you have a good Christmas, baby?” Sally asked quietly, carding her fingers through his hair. He leaned into the touch.

“What, you mean despite the fact that I spent this morning getting assaulted by a giant mythical rat with wings?” Percy snorted.

Sally chuckled under her breath. “Yeah, despite that whole part.”

Percy hummed contentedly, taking in the glimmering lights and laughing family members around him. “Yeah. Good Christmas.”