Chapter Text
Grover barely keeps it together. His face is taut, his curls frizzy from the humidity, his tone on that edge-of-the-cliff call of desperation. "Guys. Please."
"I think us showing up to this meeting at all shows you tried," Annabeth says, eyes straight up pitying him.
Sigh. "Okay, but—"
"And what was that about 'ever since Beckendorf and Silena left'?" Percy says, tilting his head. "Dude, you make it sound like they died." He points vaguely west. "They just went to Elys-U. It's like two trains from here."
"We could visit," Annabeth says, nodding with Percy. It's their first show of unison in the last thirty minutes. "I have their numbers, if you miss them so much?"
"Yeah, and I can ask Luke, too."
"I can ask Luke, Jackson."
"Oh. Right. How about—"
"And Castor."
"Gotta admit, that guy had a weird name," Percy says, flashing a grin and waggling his brows. "It's like an Asterix character."
"Really?" Annabeth says, a perfect brow rising to perfect judgmental height. "From a Perseus?"
He puffs up his chest. "At least I'm a hero."
"Doesn't he kill his grandfather?"
"Well, lucky for you, Chase," he says, lounging between desks, "my grandparents are already dead."
She rolls her eyes. "Oh, to join them…"
"Just don't take Grover with you."
"What makes you think he's staying with you?"
"What makes you think he's not?"
"Jackson, you are so—"
"Me?! Chase, you are way—"
Grover zones out.
Honestly, he wanted to strangle them.
He would never, because they were to him the opposite of what they were to each other—his most cherished friends, and truly his family.
But yes. Yeah. Of course. He definitely wanted to strangle them.
"I understand that you think that this," he cuts in, waving his hand around to gesture to the empty orchestra room, "is a win for me, but it isn't. A win for me is getting you both on the fundraiser. A win for me is you guys getting along in general. A win, for me," he emphasizes, taking a deep, deep breath, "is having the entire student body care about the North Woods not getting torn down, and you two leading the charge."
"Grover, respectfully," Annabeth starts, and he knows it will be anything but, "that's the most stupid monologue I've heard all year." She points to the boy to her right. "And I've heard Jackson's Hamlet."
"Wow, first of all," Percy says, balking at her, "we agreed I would be doing drama this semester. You would take symphony orchestra. So you have no business being in the tech booth. Second of all, I ate that, and Mr. Brunner agrees. Third of all!" He raises a finger like he's keeping her mouth shut. "I am his favorite."
"…I take it back," Annabeth monotones. "That was the most stupid monologue I've heard all year." She cocks a brow. "I'm Brunner's favorite. He asked me to do drama this sem."
"That proves nothing," Percy says, but he's pouting.
"Eat rocks."
"Oh, very smart, Wise Girl."
"I am, yeah. Unlike a Seaweed Brain I know."
"You think you're so clever—"
"You think you're so funny—"
"GUYS," Grover yells, fingers digging into his temples. "I am asking nicely. As your friend. Your favorite person in the whole wide world—do not argue, Percy, I have that voicemail saved—and as a person in need. Please. Help. Me."
"…You made him mad," Percy mumbles, glancing at Annabeth. His head is ducked—out of respect or out of fear, nobody knows.
"Shut it," Annabeth mumbles back. She looks almost exactly like him. Ahem. "…Okay, Grover. For you. I'll try to get something going."
"Same," Percy says, a little subdued. "I promise to try."
"And not to kill each other," Grover says. It seems a little more pointed than it has to be.
"I hate him, but not that much," Annabeth frowns.
"Yeah, like—I would never hurt a girl," Percy pouts.
"…You two are the weirdest nemeses I have ever met," Grover squints. "Just—" Sigh, and a heavy shrug. "—who makes an honor code?"
"Well, there—"
"Rhetorical question, Percy."
Annabeth checks her watch. "I've got Bob in five. We good here?"
Grover waves her off. "Yeah. Thanks. Really. Seriously."
"I love you," she says, smiling apologetically. "Really. Seriously."
"Uh-huh. Go, Annabeth."
Percy has the decency to silently watch her leave, and to wait for Grover to sit (slump) back down to his chair before making a comment.
"…You still say that?" Percy asks, crossing his arms. It's oddly reserved, considering their subject.
Grover nods, chin up at his friend. "We still have our handshake."
Percy hums to himself, chewing the inside of his cheek.
"Just because you guys never got along with each other doesn't mean I have to pick between the two of you."
"Yeah. I guess."
Grover watches the door. The bell rings, and the stream of students blurs into nothing as he thinks.
He knew how Percy felt about Annabeth, and how she felt about him.
But it was time.
He'd been stuck in the middle all these years, playing mediator for two hotheads with relentless personalities. The girl who could command a room with one look and the boy who could tear everyone in it up with laughter.
They both have something about them—something that demands allegiance and promises respect. When they speak, people listen—and that's what he needs.
Rally cries and fierce speeches.
A war on The Man.
A bonafide united front.
Percy stands. "We should get going. Mr. D hates it when we're late."
Grover nods.
Whatever it takes.
We save the North Woods.
We make 'em friends.
He smiles at his own joke:
We profit.
§
"The problem isn't that they're not working together," Thalia says over the crackle of the phone, and Grover braces himself.
"But?"
"But it's—I mean, Grover, I don't need to be there to know being in their vicinity is going to make anyone nervous."
"Couldn't you just, I don't know…"
"I'm at training camp, buddy. I would if I could. Luke says hi, by the way."
"Hi," Grover says, heart not in it. "Hope you guys are having fun."
"If you call training four times a day fun, then yeah."
"…You do call that fun."
"I wasn't being sarcastic."
"Hard to tell."
"…Were you just being sarcastic?"
"Maybe."
"Oh, our poor Grover," Thalia croons. From the way her voice drowns out at the end, he figures she's spinning. "How the emphatic have fallen! Now we have but the Muppet—"
"Thaliaaaa."
"Joking aside, you are an inspiration. I believe in you."
"So you'll talk to Percy?"
"I believe in you a moderate amount."
"Could Luke?"
"You want him and Annabeth to fight?"
"So what am I supposed to do?!"
"What are you again?"
Grover feels like he got got. "…Student body president…"
"And whose idea was it to run for that, again?"
"…Mine…"
"So lead, dude. Annabeth's running for it next year and she adores you, so that part's easy. Percy's not, but he also adores you, so that's kind of just as easy."
"You would think that."
"I'm just saying, be patient." Some yelling, some laughing, some whizzes of arrows flying by play through her side of the phone. "Hey, Luke's gathering the troops—"
"—You're at Olympics camp, not bootcamp—"
"—so I need to go soon. Listen, they're hard-headed, but they're good kids." Pause. "Sometimes." Pause. "Annabeth more than Percy." Pause. "I'm biased." Pause. "Whatever. Just—if all else fails, you can always lock them in a room together?"
Grover shudders audibly, sounding almost like he's going to throw up. "Murder scene."
"They're more likely to kiss than to kill each other, G."
He hears the eye roll.
He still cringes.
"EW?! Untrue!"
"So true." Yelling, again, and Luke's distinct whistle. Thalia takes a moment to continue, so Grover's pretty sure she's flipping her assistant coach off. "Okay, really—bye, don't die, you'll be fine."
"You don't know tha—"
Click.
Grover sighs.
He hates being a senior.
§
So before you ask, this is what happened:
He'd put them in charge of a booth.
Nothing crazy, just a simple white table in the hallway, with a simple sign about the petition, and two simple clipboards with spaces for names and signatures.
All very basic, very normal, very student-budget.
The North Woods development plan was still in whispering stages, and with how Queens County liked to laze about, he gave it until next summer (earliest) for anything to get finalized. Enough time to piece together a resistance and maybe get his friends to reconcile (is that still the word if they never got along in the first place?) before he went off to college with Juniper. Leave P.S. 382 better than he found it, promote unity, yadda-yadda. If those two teamed up, it would bring every department together in a way not unlike uniting the country itself—
—okay, yeah, the "president" part of "student body president" was, yes, getting to him.
Usually happens on days like today, so. Nothing new.
But man.
His friends.
His best friends.
He had to hear it from Katie, who'd heard it from the Stolls, who'd gotten a call from Clarisse, of all people, after she'd received a string of surprised texts from her best frenemy Michael.
(Ah, talk about a weird friendship.
But.
Another story for another day.)
"What do you mean they're scaring everyone off?" Grover asked, speedwalking from his table with Katie at his heels.
"On the tin, Grover," Katie says, matching pace. "Apparently, they're making a competition out of it—you know them, always trying to one-up each other. Travis said they're acting extra aggressive, though." Shrug. "Hangry, maybe?"
He barrels through the cafeteria doors. "Those two? I've never seen more prepared snackers."
"I do not see why everyone's sooo gaga over them. No offense."
"A little offensive, Kates. They're still my best friends." Sigh. "But, one less person in the fan clubs is a good thing."
Katie snickers, helping him weave through the opposite-traffic crowd. "Could you tell Connor that?"
"Annabeth's gonna dunk him into the pool herself if he ever tries to ask her out again."
"Ooh, almost makes me want to egg him on." She points. "Hi-ho, cap'n. There's your Vesuvius."
"What an interesting combination of references, Gardner," Grover says, squinting at her.
"Listen here, Underwood—I can still badmouth you to Juniper," Katie says, squinting back.
"You would never."
"Travis would."
"And you think she would listen to Travis?"
"Fair." She pats his shoulder. "Well. Good luck. World peace and all."
Grover rolls his eyes as she heads back to lunch. He doesn't hear anything damning from where he's standing—maybe ten yards out—but there is a visible and wide berth between his besties and the rest of the hallway occupants.
It's almost like they've got a magnetic field keeping them in.
Or maybe keeping the student body out?
His phone is out at lightning speed.
§
american idol s4 GOAT
you look like you're in a bear circle
a literal bear
isn't that fitting?
^
american idol s4 GOAT
Annabeth, those are supposed to keep bears *out*
also don't ^ yourself
it's tacky
a literal bear
I meant my name, silly G
technically should work fine the other way around. or does magic have an option for one-way signals?
bc if so, can we one-way Percy to a city school?
american idol s4 GOAT
we're not kicking him out
one, I would be upset
two, you would need to find and train a new nemesis
three, I WOULD BE UPSET
a literal bear
boooo
and, unfortunately, you are correct.
but I won't be the one to break the news <3
§
nepo coach
[nepo coach has attached a screenshot.]
please stop scaring the students
waterboy
do u think i can post this
wait did u say train
nepo coach
no
she will never talk to you again
and yes
waterboy
rude
but oh how i wish
nepo coach
please, you'd have to deal with the voices in your head
waterboy
they're more like noises but bleh you're right
but i will not be put under oath!! i will not surrender!!!!!
§
american idol s4 GOAT
[american idol s4 GOAT has attached a screenshot.]
a literal bear
fiiiiiine.
american idol s4 GOAT
oh?
no gloating?
a literal bear
I've skipped ahead bc I don't want us to go in circles
american idol s4 GOAT
you are so sensible
a literal bear
thanks!
american idol s4 GOAT
sometimes
a literal bear
eat beef
american idol s4 GOAT
>:(
§
Grover walks up to them with a little less trepidation—they've at least stopped glaring at each other, but the student traffic has yet to fully absorb this information. Annabeth flashes her trademark Welcome to Delphi Straub! smile at one of the more unassuming freshmen—Bianca di Something, if Grover remembers correctly—and manages to get her first real signature on her clipboard.
Grover steps in before Percy can start acting like he's in a war zone again. "Thanks, guys," he says, not sounding particularly thankful, but definitely sounding particularly mediative.
"Why couldn't we have done this in shifts, again?" Percy asks.
Annabeth sticks her tongue out at him, and he mirrors her.
"If she passed here," he says, motioning to his side of the booth, "that would've been my signature."
"You really are the most delusional person I know," she smiles, a little too sweet.
Grover waves his hands at them. "Oi. We just reached an agreement, remember?"
"It's too easy, Grover."
"She's instigating," Percy says, pointing at her like she'd just fouled him at basketball. "She's instigating!"
"That's about as diplomatic as I expect from either of you," Grover sighs. "Look. The plan needs you two to be together."
"Gross," Percy says the same time Annabeth gags, "Ick."
"Not like that," Grover says. "As in united. It's a testament to working together with the people you disagree with for the good of all. Finding common ground in our humanity—"
"Dude, you're starting to sound like my therapist," Percy says, cringing.
"You see a therapist?" Annabeth asks, genuine surprise in her voice.
He puts a hand on his chest. "I have an incredibly complex home life, Chase."
"Your stepdad is our English teacher."
"There's more!"
"Only 'more' would explain your entire…" She moves her hand in a circular motion, directed at him. "…being."
"Ahem," Grover coughs, frowning at them like a disappointed father. "All I ask is a peaceful lunch break. It's not even that long."
"But it's so haaaaard," Percy whines, dramatically laying his torso on the table.
(The dude was born to play Romeo, if Annabeth were to be completely honest.
Not that she would ever suggest it to Mr. Brunner.)
"I don't even know which monologue perfectly encapsulates my predicament right now," Percy pouts, a hand covering his face.
Grover ehhhhs. "Let's not with the monologues, buddy."
"Your plan should just be, 'Get my richest friend to tell their parents to defund the project,'" Annabeth cuts in, redirecting the conversation. She puts down her clipboard, balancing it on Percy's head. "If possible."
"…Rachel?" Grover says after a minute. "Rachel's out of town until further notice."
"You have a rich friend with rich parents who applies to this situation?"
"Annabeth, you've met Rachel."
Her brows raise, and Grover remembers why she usually bags the comedic leads. "Um, not really? I was in SF the one month she was here, remember?"
"You've never met Rachel?" Percy cuts in, astounded at the knowledge that she, well, doesn't have knowledge.
"Alright loverboy, not everyone in the student body keeps track of your exes," Annabeth frowns, crossing her arms.
His frown is a little angrier than she expected. "She's not my ex. That's a rumor."
"Uh-huh."
"She really isn't," Grover says, all calm. "That was a misconception. Rachel's actually—"
"You don't have to defend him, Grover," Annabeth says, but she's tugging at the Yankees pendant on her necklace.
Grover's going too fast to notice. "He is, actually, my friend—so yeah, I'll defend him. Same as how I defend you."
A beat.
Two.
He shouldn't have said that.
Should not have said that at all.
At all, at all.
He knew better.
Even Percy knows it's a bad line, the way he backs off—two large steps with his hands up, mouth open in a small "O", not looking at Grover's direction in any capacity.
"…Sure, I get it," Annabeth says, in a way that Grover knows she's going to be mad at him for at least a week, and that he's going to have to bribe her with a backyard showing of The Maltese Falcon to make sure she's mad for only a week. She nods back, where Percy's currently hiding. "Mister First Grade over there over me, Wingman and Diaper Buddy."
"Wingwoman," Percy blurts out.
"…If he speaks one more time, I will end his stage career."
"Let's not be extremely calculated at 12:23 PM," Grover says, chuckling nervously. He places his hands on her arms, near her shoulders, patting there gently. "He's very…delicate," he whispers, half-joking.
"And I'm not?" Annabeth whispers back, fully incredulous.
Her mouth's frowning a little, brows knotting a little, eyes glassy a little.
Nothing is going right today, and the shoulder check he gets from her as she leaves for the cafeteria is the seal to the letter.
Grover pinches his nose bridge, eyes shut tight. He thinks about those funny little screenshots and how now his bigger problem is that Annabeth isn't going to talk to him. He picks up the clipboard she was holding—it has a scribbled Bianca di Angelo on it in the second space, under Percy's messy Percy Jackson.
He doesn't need to see Percy's clipboard to know Annabeth's name is on the top spot. They're insane, yes—but they're fair. Usually.
Except when it comes to Grover picking sides.
Last time it happened, Percy'd sulked his way to every P.E. class and was ignoring him consistently enough that even Mr. D was telling him to chill out.
It wasn't pretty.
It took a couple visits to skate shops and way more candy than a kid with ADHD should be consuming, but by the end of the month Mr. D finally returned to his usual program of mispronouncing their names and not giving them adequate exercise instructions.
(Why Mr. D got assigned to teaching at a New York public high school's least fun class when he was capital-"L"-Loaded is another story for another day, but in no uncertain terms was it clear that Percy was far below "favorite student" status. Caring about his well-being, even slightly, was big school news.)
Percy claps a hand on Grover's shoulder, clicking his tongue. "Thanks, man. You committed seppuku for me. I appreciate it."
Grover turns, slowly. His dark curls seem to hang lower, or it could just be the way his shoulders are sagging. "Don't thank me yet."
Frown. "You can't seriously still want us to work toge—"
"Unity, Percy," Grover insists, tapping a closed fist on his friend's chest. "I know it's possible. And it's the only way we beat the corporations." He nods, more to himself, and takes a deep, settling breath. "Unity over uniformity—always."
"…You sure you don't wanna join drama?" Percy asks, lips pursed. "'Cause that would kill as one of the kings—"
"Dude, just let me think," Grover frowns, pushing Percy back to the crowd. "Now, use your charm, huh?"
"This is not helping my case with Annabeth," Percy says, flashing a friendly smile to passing kids.
Grover clocks it.
He raises a brow.
"Like you care what she thinks?" he says, almost teasingly, while leaning over.
"Like I care about the truth," Percy says through a fake smile. One kid signs his clipboard without even reading. "Thanks!"
Grover gently guides her away before her swoon makes her trip herself. "…Sure, dude. Like you've ever argued with Clarisse the same way you have with Annabeth."
"…You know what, G? Both of us could be mad at you right now."
"…What's that thing you guys say? Exit stage left?" Grover says, backing off to stage right.
"Uh-huh," Percy says snidely, nodding him off. "That's what I thought!"
§
The Maltese Falcon on Friday night is followed by a Saturday trip to the Met, ice cream, and calling Luke up for a quick hello. Annabeth forgives him before the movie even starts, but Grover insists anyway—it's something about his exceptional will to please that keeps her from picking on how overkill this all is, and something about her true, genuine care for him that makes her feel guilty enough about her behavior to want to pay for ice cream.
(At least she doesn't need to apologize for stealing him away on the weekend—Juniper's free-est day is Thursday, and Annabeth has yet to see them out and about together on a Saturday afternoon.)
Luke's just glad they're chill again, but he does make the mistake of waiting until Grover's in line for the bathroom before asking if Percy's got a play coming up anytime soon, since me, Thalia, and Zoë will be back in town for a bit over winter break.
"We've got Hamlet at the end of the semester," Annabeth says, going for annoyed. "I wish Lee got lead."
"Understudy?" Luke asks.
"Yeah."
"Aren't you supposed to be in symphony this semester?"
"Also yeah."
"So…?"
"Mr. Brunner made a request. Besides, he knows I've always wanted to light that show."
"Does the junior class president ever stop?"
"Does the sun go down after six in the winter?"
"You should've applied to LaGuardia."
"Jackson should've applied to LaGuardia."
"Both. Both is good."
"Don't meme, Luke. It's unbecoming."
"Wow, big word from lil sis. How tall are you now? 4'11?"
"5'2, and you know it. And what are you bullying me about? That's well within my vocabulary!"
"I'm just saying—"
"Don't."
"—you're very similar."
"…Do you ever listen to me?"
"I used to. And then I got a job, and now I listen to the people giving me a paycheck."
"Wow. Way to bend to the whims of your employer."
"At least someone's paying attention to me."
"Are we still talking about your bank account?"
"Yes."
"You're weird. A weirdo."
"A weirdo who's going to treat you and G-man to a fancy dinner with my sponsor money." Luke laughs. "Don't bite the hand that feeds you."
Annabeth feels herself jump up. "Really? No Jackson this time?"
"Ad work's got me making enough to take him out separately. Don't want another fiasco," he says pointedly.
Annabeth does not have the decency to be embarrassed. "That was his fault."
"Sure."
"It was!"
"I mean, don't tell her," Luke says, in a voice that makes her immediately want to snitch, "but I think it was Thalia's fault. You and Percy just added to the fire. And then became it."
"…Dramatic."
"Play villains all through school and tell me it won't rub off on you."
"You know what—"
"Are you arguing with Luke now, too?" Grover asks, plopping down beside her. He makes grabby hands at the phone. "Gimme."
"Manners," Annabeth says.
"Gimme, please."
She hands it over. "I wasn't arguing with him."
He holds a finger up. "Yo—was she arguing with you?"
"She was arguing with me," Luke says.
Grover mouths, You're a liar. Really. Seriously.
Annabeth mouths, You're a narc. Really. Seriously.
"You see what I have to deal with now that you guys are gone? I don't get paid enough for this," Grover says, playing up an eye roll.
"You don't get paid at all," Luke says.
"So you agree—I don't get paid enough for this."
Annabeth laughs, softly executing a 1-2 combo on his arm.
"She's using me as a punching bag. Hey!" Grover frowns at her, fake incensed. "What happened to manners?!"
"Wasn't taught any," Annabeth says.
(It's a bold-faced lie, but she's a bold-faced girl.)
Grover hits Speaker. "Hear that, Luke? You and Thals were bad role models."
"Hey! That's not what I said!" A beat. "But, not completely untrue."
"Hey!" Luke says.
"Sometimes I almost forget your home life is just as nutty as Percy's," Grover says, squinting.
Annabeth pouts at the namedrop. "Dude, we were having such a fun weekend."
Luke laughs. "'Nutty'? That's Thalia." Shuffling. "Oh shoot, she heard me—gotta go!"
"Do you think she's ever going to live down the pine tree incident?" Grover asks, staring at the black screen.
"If she were more like Jupes, yeah," Annabeth says.
"…They're nothing alike."
Pat, pat. "You have your answer."
Sigh. "Well. What's next on the agenda?"
Annabeth grins, jumping a bit to haul him down by the shoulders. "Armory."
"And?"
"Grand Central!"
"You are five years old," Grover says, shaking his head. There is a silly, almost paternal smile on his face, and if she didn't just get her hair done this week, he would 100% risk a noogie.
He settles for freeing himself and motioning for her to lead the way.
Let her have this, he thinks.
Before I figure out what Plan C is.