Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sharon paced back and forth in the kitchen, arms crossed, face stern.

“…maybe it’s, like, something little Sean made up?” Whit offered, seated at the counter and similarly confused.

Sharon and Whit tried their best to be attentive to Cody’s friends, so they both knew that Sean Marshall Jr. loathed being referred to as ‘little Sean’ to his face, but for adult conversation that concerned the whole Marshall family, it was an undeniably useful shorthand.

“Why, though?”

Whit pursed his lips, giving her rather exasperated eyes. “…look. They’re old enough to ‘get it,’ if…well, you know how kids their age like Greek myths and stuff….maybe it’s come out that little Sean’s not….you know…biologically his.”

Sharon stopped her pacing, leaning back on the sink and looking at him, rapt at attention.

They both knew that being ‘biologically’ a parent was of no importance to being real family.

And Cody did too.

But however much they liked their son having such a good friend, it was clear from the moment they’d met Andrea and Sean Sr. that they were likely not the sort of family to share those values.

“So, you see? Think about it. Little Sean finds out, Big Sean’s probably furious with Andrea, little Sean wants to talk it out with his friend…so he makes up something to make it sound cool. Like it’s a good thing.”

“But a god? An actual god?” Sharon asked. “Couldn’t he have picked, I d’know, a rock star or actor or something?”

Whit paused, thinking.

That might make more sense, if little Sean was trying for plausible.

Then again, they were 13 (or Cody would be, tomorrow). Right at the age where plausibility and imagination crash into each other and run wild.

“Well, little Sean’s always been pretty dramatic.”

Sharon crossed her arms again. “I’m just worried how it’s affecting him.” She pointed at the ceiling, to where Cody was presumably asleep in his room. “Cody doesn’t make things up like that,” she asserted firmly, voice low and certain.

Whit had to agree there. Their son was inescapably earnest and honest.

The story Cody had come home with – Mr. Marshall isn’t Sean’s biological dad, that Sean is actually the son of the Greek god of war, and the Greek god of fear showed up in the Marshalls’ front yard to take Sean away to some kind of camp, because he’s technically Sean’s big brother, and he was driving a giant black car that appeared out of thin air – blasted right past ‘far-fetched’ into ‘concerningly delusional’ territory.

“Maybe he’s upset? About, y’know, parentage?” Whit offered, emphasizing the last word with a rather unsavory timbre.

Sharon frowned. “Maybe. But, now? Why would this be so important all of a sudden?”

He sighed heavily. “Well. He’s kind of at that age. Starting to question things, y’know?”

They made deep, solemn eye contact, both silently acknowledging that uncomfortable possibility.

They’d done absolutely every bit of reading and research they could on being good adoptive parents, how to be honest with your adopted child so they never feel lied to, but also always feel unconditionally loved and truly theirs. Cody had never seen this whole thing as any kind of stumbling block.

But he was about to be a teenager.

And something like…whatever was going on at the Marshall house could certainly shake things up.

Granted, neither of the Griffins ever assumed that being a parent would be without challenges. That’s just part of life. Every kid is going to have growing pains, literally or metaphorically, adopted or otherwise.

They’d be there to love him no matter what through whatever uncertainties he was feeling.

Sharon gave a wry, tired smile-wince. “It’s just awful it had to all happen right before his birthday.”

Cody hadn’t even really registered that as an issue; they’d had to remind him at dinner earlier that night. Sharon and Whit had, of course, been there for the swim meet, prepared for the disappointment at him losing the record and coming in second, but Cody had been remarkably mature and buoyant about it. Hadn’t seemed put out at all, really, just happy for his friend (and eager for a rematch next season, of course).

They hadn’t had any objections when Cody asked if he could walk over to Sean’s house later that afternoon. If anything, they thought it was a good sign of him taking the loss healthily, not letting sports interfere with friendship.

Then all this happened.

“Mom? Dad?”

They both looked up; Cody was in the doorway of the kitchen, pajama pants and T-shirt wrinkled, hair askew, and rather bleary-eyed.

“What’s up Code?” Whit asked kindly, glancing at the clock.

11:48 PM, May 14, 1999.

“Got thirsty,” he said simply, helping himself to a glass from the top shelf and joining his mom at the sink to fill it.

“Someone here’s 12 minutes away from being a teenager!” Sharon said, almost too cheery to be convincing, but she still hugged him and kissed the top of his head.

“Mom,” he fake-whined, more a gesture than anything. Cody Griffin loved hugs.

He guzzled the water rather loudly, then re-filled it, and started guzzling again. Sharon and Whit looked at each other, both nervous smiles, unsure whether to bring up the topic from earlier.

“Hey, honey…” Sharon began.

“Mmmm?” Cody ‘replied,’ still drinking his water but comically twisting his eyebrows into some sort of inquisitiveness.

“Are you still…um…how are you feeling?”

“MmMmm.” He shrugged, doing the ‘I don’t know’ melody.

Voice careful and even, Whit spoke up too.

“Well, dude, with everything going on with Sean, we just wanna make sure you feel OK.”

Finally, he finished his water with a loud swallow, hazel eyes flicking between his parents’ faces, mouth in a tight line, overall appearance broody and uncertain.

“…you guys don’t believe me.”

“No, hon, we do believe you. You told us what you saw.” Sharon pulled out a chair by the counter and patted it for him to sit; he accepted it, elbows on the counter and chin on one hand, still looking suspicious. “We just want to…maybe you can help us understand some things?”

Cody let out a long sigh. “Uh, yeah, I guess.”

Whit leaned forward with a kind but serious smile. “Cody, what do you think about all of that? Are you scared? Worried?”

“I….hm.” He stared off, pondering that for a long minute.

Sharon and Whit waited, neither of them breathing.

“I…I guess worried,” he mumbled, voice rather small.

“What about?” Sharon prompted, reaching over to rub his back soothingly.

Cody put his other elbow on the table and his face in his hands. “Sean. What if he gets hurt?”

“Well,” Sharon began, but Cody cut her off, talking fast as his head snapped back up, palms clapping to the countertop emphatically.

“What if he never comes back?!?”

“OK, hon, let’s just calm down a bit?”

Cody didn’t seem inclined to obey, face now far more agitated. “He might be gone forever! And you don’t believe me!” Cody hit his fist on the table in frustration.

“We understand, honey, we do.” Sharon glanced at Whit, who reached across the table to cover Cody’s hand with his own. Cody relaxed, softening a little, anger drizzling back down into worry.

“We understand that Sean went away with someone who you don’t know, and you don’t trust. That’s fine, that’s just being a good friend.”

Part of Cody objected to this – he was old enough to recognize Mom and Dad’s ‘active listening’ stuff, and didn’t want to be treated like a little kid.

But it did kind of still work on him; plus, there were more details to be angry about.

“And Mr. and Mrs. Marshall….they just let him go!”

“Well….” Whit started again, glancing to Sharon to tap her in.

She fumbled slightly, but managed to sound mostly confident. “It might be someone that they do know, who Sean just never met before?”

Cody frowned, frustration coming back into his eyes. “I told you guys who it was. He told me, and Mrs. Marshall believed it too!”

“Are you sure - ?”

“Yes! She was right there! She packed up Sean’s stuff for him to leave!”

Cody pulled his hand out of Whit’s, looking between them again with some blend of bewilderment and confusion.

“Cody, sweetie…” Sharon began. “…we’re just not certain about the whole…gods part of it.”

“But his car, the giant symbol, the - ”

“Oh, yes, yeah, we’re not saying you didn’t see it!” Sharon said quickly and reassuringly. “But sometimes things might not be what they look like at first, you know? Like a magic trick?”

Cody grumbled and crossed his arms; an awkward silence fell between the three of them.

Cody impatiently tapped his foot against the leg of the high counter chair, mind working fast.

Why wouldn’t they believe him? Mr. and Mrs. Marshall had basically agreed with all of it.

That scary guy obviously wasn’t a normal human, with his weird coldness and magically-appearing car.

Maybe they just had to see something like that for themselves?

Maybe tomorrow, they could call Mr. and Mrs. Marshall and talk about it?

Like, yeah, they were trying, but it felt like they were on a whole different planet. Sure, it sounds crazy, but….

…but with a moment to consider, Cody did kind of sort of understand why Mom and Dad were skeptical.

Think it through. Put yourself in the other person’s shoes.

Those annoyingly-persistent-and-productive parenting lessons drifted to mind in spite of his almost-teenager surliness.

And. Yeah, that made sense.

If someone had told him all that, he’d be skeptical too.

“I…I guess it could’ve been…something else.” Cody mumbled haltingly.

Sharon and Whit got the impression that he was conceding the point, if not entirely convinced.

Then again, it was late. This all could wait until morning.

“You feel a bit better?” Sharon asked, rubbing his back again.

“…yeah.”

He still looked glum, but mostly just tired.

“We’ll – we’ll talk with Mr. and Mrs. Marshall tomorrow, how ‘bout that?” Whit suggested.

At that, Cody perked up a little, nodding eagerly. “Yeah, sure!”

He untensed, uncurling his fists, settling back into the chair a little more, leaning into his mom’s hand working circles over the top of his back; face still in his Cody-brooding expression, but at least somewhat less agitated and upset.

From where he was sitting, Whit had the best view of the clock – and a perfect reason to change the subject.

“Hey, Code?”

He snapped out of his pondering, decisively less worked up after the pause to think things out. “Yeah Dad?”

“Happy birthday!”

Sharon and Whit both exhaled in relief: that got Cody to smile for real.

“Thanks!”

“Birthday hug? Or are teenagers too cool for that?” Sharon offered, arms out wide.

Cody bashfully hopped off the counter chair and hugged her tight, closing his eyes as she squeezed around his shoulders.

“We can talk more tomorrow?” Sharon offered.

“…sure.”

“I want in on this!” Whit said cheerfully, getting up and joining the hug. He wrapped his arms around both of them, enjoying the warmth and closeness for a moment…

“Dad!” Cody laughed, as Whit suddenly crouched down and snatched him around the middle, hoisting him up over his shoulder.

“Ugh, man, teenagers are heavy!” Whit fake-complained, lumbering to the living room and dropping to sit on the couch, swinging Cody down into his lap and bear-hugging him around the arms from behind. “I liked you better when you were just a kid!”

“DaHaahaaD!” Cody tried to protest, squirming and giggling as Whit deviously rubbed his 11-o-clock stubbled chin into the crook of his neck. He managed to wriggle free, rolling to the floor into a spy-ninja-like ready-stance.

“You think you can take your old man?” Whit teased, joining him in a similar pose.

Cody had always liked wrestling; not enough to join the school’s team (especially not if it conflicted with swimming), but definitely a favorite way of playing around with his friends or his dad.

“Bring it on!” Cody replied with a challenging eyebrow wag, then tried for a lunge. Whit dodged, instead managing to catch him around the arms. He tried to twist into a hold, but Cody then just dropped his full weight to the floor, pulling his dad down too, leaving them both laughing and tangled together. Whit got his arm around Cody’s neck, Cody got his fingers around his dad’s wrist -

“Hey, no wrestling in the living room!”

They both stopped, the two of them looking up at Sharon watching them fondly – if somewhat admonishingly – from the doorway.

“I think we should all get some sleep before the party tomorrow, how ‘bout you two?” she suggested.

“Yeah, you wouldn’t wanna lose a wrestle on your birthday!” Whit chuckled, lightly noogieing his knuckles into Cody’s stomach, making him crumple into giggles before letting him go.

“Oh, I totally had you!” Cody replied, crawling away and standing up clumsily.

“No one had anyone,” Sharon said with joking finality, making a sweeping hand motion like a referee declaring a draw. She walked up between them as Whit stood up too, albeit rather more stiffly than his sprightly brand-new teen. She wrapped an arm around each of their shoulders and started leading the way toward the stairs.

“We’re not gonna fit through the hall like this, Shar,” Whit chuckled.

“You’re right.” She disentangled herself and steered Cody ahead of them, kissing his cheek as she did. “Birthday boy first!”

“Suuuure.”

Even with only 10 minutes into teenagerhood, he was already perfecting the eye-roll.

Sharon and Whit let him go on ahead, leading the way upstairs. He turned to the left, stopping outside his room.

His mom hugged him and kissed his cheek again.

“Night sweetheart!”

She stepped back, letting her husband past for his turn.

“Night Code,” his dad said quietly, hugging him too. “Get some sleep, OK?”

“I’ll try.”

“Do, or do not, there is no try!”

“Your Yoda voice sucks,” Cody fake-complained, grinning in spite of his words. “More like Kermit.”

“mmMMM, like my voice, the teenager does not! Cake tomorrow you shall not have!” Whit made a comically-offended face and turned on his heel, disappearing down the short hall and into he and Sharon’s room.

Sharon shook her head, some blend of amused, tired, and exasperated, but all threaded through with love.

They’d face the cosmos-shifting question of whether Greek mythology was true tomorrow.

First thing’s first: it’s her baby’s 13^th birthday.

“Sleep well, hon. Love you.”

“You too, Mom. Love you too!”

Chapter Text

All in all – stressful and strange mythology-hopefully-not-delusional conversation last night in the rearview, for now – Sharon felt like the party had gone pretty well.

As much as Cody and his friends were slowly entering teenager-ness, they were still kids. Only so much anyone could get up to, so the afternoon hadn’t been too eventful. Standard kids’ party fare, well within the skillset of a practiced mom.

Cody did have a lot of friends, and friends of friends on good enough terms to be extended invites; his birthday had become a sort of inaugural summer tradition at the school. Big house by the beach, likable host, easygoing but safety-conscious parents – all the ingredients for hyping up the excitement toward the end of the school year.

And Sharon considered herself pretty involved: she certainly knew and recognized all of his close friend circle (large as it was, what with encompassing most of the swim team).

Birthdays could attract a bit of a larger crowd though.

So – as she approached the rather unfamiliar girl enthusiastically working over the snacks table in a manner that could only be called ‘grazing’ – Sharon wasn’t quite sure who this was.

“Hey, hon,” she started, but the girl interrupted cheerfully instead.

“Man, so much great variety, and all vegetarian! I love you guys! Seriously!” she declared, happily adding more vegetables to her paper plate.

The girl had bushy brown hair down her back, a rather loose-fitting and seasonally-odd hat, a regular-enough stylish shirt with quite long and loose-fitting jeans, showy green glitter nail polish and a remarkable number of bracelets.

“Well, glad you like it!” Sharon replied, genuinely pleased with the enthusiasm. Not every kid appreciates an all-vegan menu at a birthday party. “Are…are you another friend of Cody’s?”

“mmmMm.” She turned around, mouth full of celery, chewing quickly as if to speed up a polite reply. Sharon just waited, smiling kindly and reassuringly. No need for anyone to choke for a social convention.

The girl swallowed with a gulp. “Well, I hope so soon!” she said, smiling bright, then held out her right hand, balancing her very-full plate on her left with a concerning wobble in its structural integrity. “Heather Fairfield! You’re Mrs. Griffith, right?”

“Um, Griffin, dear, but close enough!” Sharon looked her up and down once. “You wanna sit down?”

“Sure!” Heather followed her gesture toward one of the tables set up on the lawn; Sharon was actually surprised by how spritely she moved. Another moment, and she was chomping more vegetables, so this time Sharon waited for a pause.

“Did you wanna go in the water with everyone else?” Sharon suggested. Most of the party had, by now, actually wrapped up, kids biking off or picked up over the last half hour or so. Only Cody and a small handful of friends were down at the beach, Whit and one or two of the remaining parents supervising.

“Nah, I’m fine up here, I think.”

“Ah. OK.” Sharon privately wondered if this Heather couldn’t swim; rare for a coastal place, but not unheard of. “Well, let me know if you need anything, OK sweetie?”

Heather gulped again for another large swallow; Sharon privately wondered about the digestive health of so much not-very-chewed-up fiber, but wasn’t about to comment. Some kids have stomachs like goats.

“Uh, if you’ve got time, could you sit?” Heather asked.

That raised a few flags for Sharon – she sat down hesitantly, eyes bright and attentive, mentally flipping through supportive-mom concepts and preparing for what might make a teen she had barely met ask for company like this.

“...yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“Carrots?” Heather offered, slightly pushing the plate in her direction.

“No thanks.” She gave Heather a purposeful look. “Is everything OK?”

Heather chewed her lip for a second, eyes flicking back and forth, like she was deciding something. After a moment or two, she appeared to have made up her mind.

“So…well, I’m told that you probably already know what’s up.”

“…no?”

Heather rolled her eyes. “With everything that happened with Sean, I don’t think we have to beat around the bush. Cody saw everything, he’s prob’ly told you about it already, right?”

That set off even more alarms in Sharon’s mind – she took a sharp breath, sitting up straight in her seat.

“What do you mean, ‘what happened with Sean?’ Do you know him?”

“Met him for just a sec, when Phobos dropped him off. I was already packed up to head here though!”

Sharon felt her heart skip several beats. When she spoke again, she’d unconsciously dropped to a whisper.

“Hon…when who dropped him off?”

“At camp. He drives most of Ares’ kids, once they get claimed.”

Apparently nonplussed by repeating the same wild premise that Cody had, she took a big bite of carrots, casual as could be.

Sharon was stunned to silence as she waited for Heather to elaborate.

However, now, Heather got a wry, almost apologetic sort of wince-smile. “…oh. Maybe…maybe it wasn’t you, then, huh.”

“Wasn’t me what ?”

Heather took a deep breath and leaned forward, face serious as she steepled her fingers, elbows on the table.

“Can I ask you something kinda personal?”

Sharon looked at her blankly, but didn’t object.

“Did you give birth to Cody?”

“…what?”

Heather bit her lip again. “Did you?”

“I – no. I didn’t.”

“Ahhhhhh OK, yeah .” Heather popped the last of her vegetables into her mouth, chewed quick, and swallowed loudly. “But Cody told you about Sean, yeah?”

“I – well – yeah, but – hon, what are you talking about?!” Sharon did her best not to sound frantic, but that was getting harder by the second.

She stood up and crossed the short distance to pat Sharon on the shoulder. “I guess I’m gonna have to fill you in, huh.” Heather glanced toward the beach. “So, it was your husband then.”

Heart in her throat, Sharon didn’t even register what Heather might be implying. “Hon, can you tell me again…what exactly are you referring to?”

Heather rubbed Sharon’s shoulder reassuringly. “It’s all OK. Lots of humans don’t believe it at first.”

“…humans?”

“Uh huh. Normally, I break the news easier…and, to be honest, your husband should already know. Kinda works that way.”

“I - ?”

Heather cut her off. “Long story short, what Cody told you happened? Yeah. That actually happened.”

Despite the fact that this was a strange teenager saying it, there was a truth and certainty to her voice – the way that she already seemed to know everything – that told Sharon that Heather was being honest. Unnervingly so.

“….what.”

Heather gave a dry snicker that vibrated her throat like a sort of bleat. “The gods are real.”

“… what ??!” Sharon whispered.

“Like, the Greek gods.”

Sharon stared up at her, eyes saucer-like.

“The ones you learned about in school lit class. Most people don’t pay attention though.”

Sharon opened and closed her mouth, throat unable to properly form words.

“Well, it’s no big deal, ‘cause they usually don’t pay attention to you mortals either.” She wagged her eyebrows and jerked her thumb toward the beach, and the rest of the dwindling party. “’cept when they have kids, of course.”

Slowly, Sharon felt feeling come back to her face. “So…Sean…?”

Heather got a dawning look of realization, then sighed as she nodded.

Guess she was gonna have to spell it out.

“Mrs. Griffin, I’m – well, it’s my job , but still, sorry for being, like, awkward and all – Sean’s not the only son of a god on your kid’s swim team.”

She clapped Sharon on the shoulder with an apologetic look. “Or…a goddess, I guess.”

Chapter Text

Whit took a second to take his shoes off before heading inside – no need to track more sand into the house.

(sand in the house was sort of an inescapable given when you live at the beach, but one must be considerate where possible)

“Shar?”

“…in here.”

The tone of her voice raised Whit’s worry: he’d simply come inside as the party wound down, leaving Cody with the last two swim team friends down by the water, but his wife…he didn’t like that timbre.

He hurried quickly around the corner to the kitchen, to find Sharon sitting at the table with a blank expression, a large half-finished glass of water in front of her, eyes wide like she’d seen a ghost.

“Mr. Griffin?”

Whit hadn’t noticed the unfamiliar girl standing at his sink, helpfully doing dishes like she lived there.

Kind of odd for her to be wearing a large wool hat in the summer – oh.

What in the - ?

“Yeah, hat gives me a bad hair day,” the girl chuckled as she deposited it on counter. “It’s kinda necessary, though, see?”

Whit did, in fact, see.

See the terrifying-shocking revelation that this girl had tiny goat horns??!?!?

She gave Whit a knowing kind of smile as she finished drying the last dish and putting it in the drying rack.

(that was the dirty dish holding rack, but that detail couldn’t be farther from what Whit was concerned with at the moment)

“C’mon, Mr. Griffin, you can’t be that surprised to see a satyr, right?”

“A – a what?”

“Heather Fairfield,” she smoothly introduced herself, reaching out to shake his hand. Whit took it robotically, glancing frantically between the girl – well, her horns – and his wife.

“Sh-Sharon?”

But she was looking at him with a strange, confused sort of…glare?

“Mr. G – can I call you Mr. G? - c’mon, have a seat with us.”

Whit dropped into the chair, eyes wide, failing to not to stare, so surprised and distracted that he didn’t even notice the subtle sound of Heather’s hooves clicking on the hardwood floor.

She sat down across from them, hands folded, looking between them.

“So…I mean, you can guess why I’m here, right?”

Whit didn’t move until Sharon nudged him, as if prompting him to speak, still looking at him with some brand of…accusation?

“It’s about Cody,” Heather said matter-of-factly, speaking slow, head tilted curiously. “But…you…should’ve known? Right?”

“I – uh – look, um, Heather, I have no idea what you a- what you’re talking about?!?”

Whit has almost said ‘what you are,’ but one must try to remember manners talking to a mythological teenager in one’s kitchen.

She leaned her chin on her hands, eyes narrowed. “Cody’s your son, right?”

“ Our son,” Whit said emphatically, reaching out to grasp Sharon’s shoulder – and finding it weirdly tense.

Finally, Sharon spoke, voice strange and far-away.

“You – you said you didn’t know where he came from.”

“ What ?” Whit gasped, shock getting worse.

“When we found him, you said you didn’t know where he came from.” Sharon said, more firmly this time, but sounding like she was almost choked up.

“I didn’t! Honestly, I didn’t!”

Heather pursed her lips, privately pondering other times she’d had to break the news to a demi’s parents. Some were certainly more awkward than others.

Guess she’d have to be – well, forward .

“Mr. G – sorry, Griffin – you…well, before….uh….Mrs. Griffin?” She bit her lip, summoning courage. “Cody’s, like, biologically yours, right?”

Whit’s jaw dropped, going from shocked to offended as he shook his head.

“No! What – who in the hell do you think you are?” Whit demanded, then caught himself, shrinking back.

Whit rarely swore, and never at a kid.

“I’m sorry. Just – what exactly are you implying?”

But Sharon was the one who replied.

“Greek gods are real. Sean…the thing with Ares that Cody said, that really happened.”

Whit turned to her, face going pale. “…c’mon, hon, are you sure - ?”

“There’s a satyr in your kitchen, for starters.” Heather cheerfully clicked her hooves and gave a sort of proud little bow. “We’re kind of a package deal.”

“So…so, is Cody yours? With a – a goddess?” Sharon asked in a thick, almost resigned whisper.

“Shar,” Whit began, running his hand down her arm. “It’s only ever, ever been you. I’ve never lied to you.”

Heather watched closely, curious where this was going.

Guess these two were more stable than a whole Hades of a lot of demigod parents.

Sharon exhaled with a relieved smile. “OK. Yeah, I believe you.”

Making things much more awkward (from Heather’s perspective), she leaned in and kissed him, slow and loving and familiar. “I’m – I’m sorry I doubted.”

“Hey, um. This is a lot to take in.” Whit gestured at Heather, the sky, the universe at large. “I don’t blame you.”

He brought their lips together again.

“…hey, uh, whenever you’re done, I’m still over here.” Heather said, deadpan and awkward after a moment or so.

They parted, both looking at her again, slightly flushed, but a million times happier and more relieved than a minute ago.

“So…you did find him?”

“Yup,” Sharon replied, taking Whit’s hand with a loving grin at him.

“…and that never registered as weird to you?”

“Oh, it’s – well, it was bizarre, at the time, but…but he’s ours.” Whit squeezed his wife’s hand, returning her smile.

“It was like someone left this incredible little gift on our doorstep,” Sharon added.

“….O-K…um…”

In her long and storied and seasoned career as a satyr guide (3 years), Heather hadn’t encountered this one before.

When Sharon had said he just showed up, she’d been betting on Athena. Random baby, no…uh… union , so to speak, required…was sort of her thing.

But this was a twist.

“Where’d you find him?”

“On our boat,” Whit said, seeming to come back down from the high of reconnecting with his wife’s trust. “So…he’s…?”

“On a boat ?” Heather looked at them closely, somewhere between wary and suspicious.

“Is that bad?” Sharon’s tone jumped several registers into worried.

“Um… weeeell ….not necessarily.” Heather realized she didn’t sound convincing, but she couldn’t deny that the…implications…were concerning.

Ugh , did someone break the rules? Again ???

They’re gods, breaking their promises to each other is kind of their thing her more-critical conscience commented.

But no reason to worry anyone.

Yet, anyway. Much to be seen.

“But yeah, he’s – well, he’s at least half god.” Heather said, remarkably casually.

The Griffins shared a look.

“How do you know?”

“It’s my job. Satyrs are protectors, we find demigods, and bring ‘em to camp.”

Both Griffins gulped, tightening their hands as if barring Heather from their son.

“Does he have to go?” Sharon said defensively.

Heather shrugged. “For a lot o’ kids, it’s just for the summer. Lets ‘em meet their siblings, learn about their powers, how to fight monsters. Oh, yeah, now that he knows, you’ve gotta watch out for monster attacks.” She winced apologetically. “So, like, he doesn’t have to go, but he’ll be safer while he’s still new to – um – all this. The camp’s protected by the gods.”

It took Sharon and Whit several moments and flabbergasted glances at each other to find words.

But the front door opened first.

“Hi!” Cody called happily. “Todd’s dad just picked up him ‘n Zach, so everyone’s – oh.”

Cody appeared around the corner, stopping short in the doorway, still in just his swim trunks, hair wet from the ocean, nose wrinkling in confusion at whatever awkwardness he’d just walked in on.

“Who’re you?” he asked Heather, rather bluntly – then he saw the horns.

Then looked her up and down.

Then he saw the hooves.

She got up – looking him up and down too, with a decidedly different sort of appreciation for the view , so to speak – and held out her hand.

“Heather Fairfield. We’re gonna be good friends!” She wagged her eyebrows, eyes looking him over again, blushing a little with a semi-coy smile. “At least ,” she added with a snicker.

“Honey, come sit with us,” Sharon began cautiously, consciously ignoring whatever in the world that was.

Some cyclone of confused, apprehensive, and flustered, Cody grabbed the fourth chair, all thoughts of not getting his wet swimsuit on furniture abandoned, and sat down heavily.

“What’s wrong?”

Chapter Text

Y’know, Cody Griffin had never really thought about the concept of summer camp.

When you live in what’s basically a destination for most people’s vacation, not a whole lot of reason to go anywhere else. San Francisco Bay had pretty much everything nearby.

Cody Griffin had also never really thought too much about the concept of his birth parents.

Mom and Dad had been honest with him growing up. He didn’t come from them, like, biologically.

But he was theirs. Never a single qualifier or doubt in his mind – he’d never really felt the need to ask where he’d come from. Guess in the back of his mind, he assumed an adoption agency; but it just hadn’t been something he’d been curious about in his 13 years of life.

So the revelations that 1) nope, they just found him on their boat one day and 2) yeah, at least one birth parent wasn’t human…

Just enough to be a little bit shaken up.

(probably the other parent was human – Cody was pretty sure he’d know if he was a deity by now, and that felt a little dramatic to even ponder)

There were about three weeks between his birthday and the end of the school year; despite dealing with the fact that some random girl showed up and was half-goat and told him that Greek mythology was true, Mom and Dad still had wanted to make sure he responsibly wrapped up 7^th grade.

Y’know, before leaving to a battle camp run by the Greek pantheon for their illegitimate kids from around the world.

Said random girl had been their awkward houseguest for those weeks.

Ostensibly, she was there for the very normal and commonplace last-3-weeks-of-7th-grade reason of sensing whether any mythological monsters were coming to try to eat a newly-discovered demigod. Because apparently that happens.

And apparently she has super-smell, and is a destined protector of demigods, courtesy of the half-goat thing.

Cody didn’t really know any girls who could fight – well, the girls in Sean’s martial arts classes could, theoretically – but he really, really hoped he wouldn’t have to see Heather in action.

Luckily, nothing yet.

Kind of made homework tense and weird though.

He’s supposed to just work through improper fractions, review history quiz questions, and ponder whether a cyclops or sea serpent or hydra or something was about to bang down the door? Maybe kill his parents?

Normal stuff.

For better or worse, Heather seemed to stay cheerfully confident that this was no more daunting than a moderate inconvenience.

 

Two days of their new houseguest’s stay, and Sharon came home from the tourboats to a bit of a surprise in the garden. Whit was inside, working on correspondence and monitoring baked vegetables in the oven.

(once they’d established that the girl in the guest room was a gods-ordained protector of nature, they had mutually agreed to absolutely no meat of any kind in the house while she was there)

“Whit, the garden looks great! All the weeds in one day?”

“Huh?” Whit looked up from the papers on the desk.

Sharon put her shoes on the rack by the door. “I saw it all taken care of when I came in!” she said brightly.

Whit gave her a confused raised eyebrow. “Um, I didn’t work in the garden today…”

“They tasted great!”

They both startled, looking up at Heather coming in from the back porch, the remnant of a thorny weed in one hand, which she then popped in her mouth.

“Oh. You…ate…them?” Sharon asked haltingly.

“Mhm!” Heather nodded, mouth full. She swallowed rather loudly, and without too much chewing. “Goat stomach!” she added. “Anything else in the garden you want me to take care of?”

Sharon and Whit exchanged a look about that, then both shook their heads.

Unbothered, Heather just shrugged.

Some of the native grass planted along the fence had looked very tasty, but she (accurately) guessed that the Griffins had planted that there on purpose.

(so she only took a few small and easily-missed bites while searching for weeds)

“OK. I’ll get back to patrolling then.” Heather turned on her heel – well, her hoof – and strode back out to the yard.

But now, it was the afternoon before Cody was set to leave for the summer.

He was doing his best to not think leave forever.

He didn’t care what god or goddess was his birth parent – they’d never showed up or anything so far, so he had no intention of a change in custody based on any revelations.

He also was doing his best not to let those stereotypical, nagging adoption-anxiety thoughts ripple in.

So, what, they didn’t want me? My human parent didn’t want to deal with a half-god kid? Did they know monsters would attack when I grew up? Did they not care?

Nope. Think of something else.

His room was kind of a mess, suitcase on his bed, clothes strewn about. He and Mom had done all the laundry over the last week, so he’d have options for what to bring. Fortunately, Cody was rather outdoorsy, so most of his stuff would probably work.

Heather had also said that the camp provided some stuff. T-shirts, housing.

Weapons and armor. Y’know, usual stuff.

Cody walked to his stack of shorts and jeans for the millionth time, considering what to bring. He knew how junior high worked in San Francisco: fashion was a thing. Someone wears the wrong kind of shorts, people talk.

Did demigods care about that kind of thing? Was New York cold? Would there be bugs or ticks or mosquitos, or did being half-god make him immune to those now? Was he gonna unlock superpowers of some sort?

The fish in his bedroom aquarium had seemed strangely…well, attentive, since he’d gotten this news.

He loved his fish, named all of them, so he knew their behaviors.

No one had told the fish, exactly, but there was something…different, about the way they all looked at him now. More than just the usual ‘here comes flakes’ excitement.

Like they were watching, waiting for…something.

Heather had said that the gods didn’t always announce who their half-human kids were. That, usually, they waited for some moment, some achievement or event, then sent a sign.

Cody was familiar with that.

Guess winning a state record counted in the god of war’s book as a notable event.

For this reason, Heather had explained, kids at camp trained to protect themselves, but also to go on quests, win glory and recognition from the gods.

Cody had never felt a need to win glory or recognition from his real parents (Sharon and Whit), so that didn’t really sit too well with him as a threshold for his god-parent to claim him.

Still. Guess it made for a fun challenge at camp?

He was 13 and rather sporty. A sense of adventure came naturally.

Then again…maybe not something life-threatening.

If he did quests, it would be for himself, or for whatever cause or something. If he got superpowers, it was the polite and responsible thing to do to use them for good, right?

Heather had, somewhat frustratingly, been weirdly evasive when Cody asked if she knew what god or goddess might be his parent.

Cody knew he could sometimes have issues paying attention or being observant, but he often was pretty good with people.

He could tell when someone was hiding something.

So he’d had to speculate all that alone.

And, unlike a lot of demigods, he had something of a case study to look to.

Sean loved to compete, he loved to fight, for the sheer thrill of it. Sure, he loved to win, but the passion was in the struggle. And he had quite a temper when something riled him up.

Being a son of Ares, then, made sense for him.

So Cody had considered himself.

If he had to boil himself, his skills, his interests down to one thing?

…he loved the water. He loved swimming, he loved his fish, he loved being near and in and with the ocean. The beach, the coast, the waves and the water itself…it was home. It felt right, when he was in there.

Cody knew enough Greek mythology to guess whose domain that was.

Deciding that if he was battling monsters or learning combat, he didn’t want to risk his more fashionable pants or shorts, Cody just grabbed the ones he used for working on the boats and tossed them into his suitcase.

Heather had insisted that they take a chain of trains back across the whole country. Something about her not liking planes.

Great. A whole couple days just hanging out one on one.

Chapter Text

All in all, a few days of train rides with Heather Fairfield hadn’t been too bad.

Usual getting-to-know-you conversation stuff. Small talk about landmarks they passed, train schedules, when the food would be coming.

Heather loved the Backstreet Boys and hiking and theater. She had two little brothers (also half-goats, of course). They lived with their parents in a village near the camp. Her best friend was a daughter of Demeter who she’d met after spending a year with her in Virginia, then killing a cyclops together. Satyrs mostly are home-schoolers, but she had done a few grades here and there while scouting a new demigod to bring in.

Cody was the 5^th half-blood she had escorted to camp, and – Cody had had to stop himself from flinching – she’d proudly said that none of them had died, far more casually than he would have liked. The thing about monsters hunting down demigods by their smell had seemed a little ridiculous at first, but then fizzled into a generic, hazy sense of danger over the last weeks at home. Only so much doom and terror could be imagined from the always-safe-and-loving home Cody had always known.

But a cross-country train ride?

Yeah. The world can seem a lot scarier a lot faster.

Heather had noticed, about a day into the trip, that Cody stared warily at every new set of passengers coming on board, shifted in his seat to stay out of view as much as possible.

“Y’know, I can smell them coming too. I’ll let you know if something’s up.”

Her confidence was not quite overwhelming, but it helped him sleep a little bit better in the bunk of their train car. Sometimes.

As juvenile as it felt – and he didn’t admit it – he missed his mom and dad. Like, a lot. Yeah, it was only a few days, but still. What if he never saw them again? He sorely hoped that camp had phones.

When they rolled into Grand Central Station and finally de-trained, Heather’s demeanor got decidedly more business-like – or maybe battle-like.

“OK. Stay close to me. Sometimes they know that this is a trade-off point, and there’s tons of people, so I might not sense them coming. Do you have any weapons or anything?”

“What?!? No!” Cody was already rather occupied with trying to haul his rolling suitcase over the bumpy floor of the station and not get trampled by the thousands of commuters and tourists. He was no stranger to city life – growing up in the suburbs of San Francisco – but New York was far larger and more gruff, and he could tell that by only a few minutes off the train.

“Who’s they? Where would I have gotten weapons?!”

“OK, fair. I’ll take the lead on anything.” Heather straightened up, casting around the station and sniffing the air, then seemed – well, not satisfied, but less on-alert. “OK, let’s go. We’ve gotta get three platforms down for the Long Island rail.

And she took off.

Some protector Cody thought, trotting fast to keep up. He also did not like the lack of answer to ‘they,’ but could fill in the blanks. Minotaurs, hydras, Meduas (Meduses?).

Literally, when was he supposed to have gotten weapons?

“Hurry!” she called back over her shoulder, weaving through the crowd.

“Trying!” Cody got nudged rather hard by a tall man pushing his way toward the train. “Can you slow down?!?”

“Oh.”

Heather stopped and waited for him to catch up, and gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. Forgot you’re not as fast.”

“I can be fast, it’s a new place!” Cody retorted, 13-year-old-jock sensibilities rather miffed at that dig at his athletic prowess. Granted, he was always far faster and at-home in the water than on foot.

“It’s not much further. And we’re right on time to catch it.” Heather produced two tickets from one of her many overall pockets. “Ready?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

OK, she didn’t have to make a show of walking slowly next to him either; and Cody didn’t particularly like the barely-hidden little smirk she had.

“I can walk faster.”

“Hey, I’m just being considerate. Human feet are only so useful.”

Cody just grumbled, craning his neck to look ahead. “That one?” he asked, pointing.

“Oh, yeah.” Heather grabbed him by the elbow, suddenly far more pointed, having noticed the time. “C’mon, we’ll gonna miss it if we don’t run.”

Maybe being half-goat also granted super-strength, because Cody had not expected how powerfully Heather urged him forward, not quite dragging him, but he definitely had to be careful not to fall.

It worked; they skidded to a stop right in front of the conductor, as the engine up at the front started to rev up.

“Two, Delphi Strawberry Service.” Heather said cheerfully, ignoring how Cody was panting out-of-breath next to her. The conductor looked at the tickets, then up at her, then at Cody, and nodded once. She punched them both with her clipper thing and waved them on board.

Heather led the way – again, as always – and found two seats pretty close to the exit. Another cursory sniff of the air, and she sat down, much more relaxed.

“’K. It’s safe.”

“You – sure - ?” Cody gasped, dropping heavily across from her.

“Uh huh.” She looked him up and down, then winced. “You’re gonna have some work to do when we get there.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“What’s the strawberry thing?”

“You’ll see.” With that, Heather pulled out her CD player and popped in her earphones.

Annoyed, but getting the distinct (and correct) impression that Heather was not going to elaborate, Cody looked out the window as the train pulled out – he spotted the skyline, receding fast. He’d never been to New York, of course, but one recognizes the iconic buildings.

The summer morning was – well, it wasn’t overcast or raining, sooooo….

…why was there a lightning strike above the Empire State Building??