Chapter Text
Percy was equally fascinated and disturbed by the Cocoa Puffs.
“Perce,” Annabeth sighed, not looking up from her textbook. “Love, we live in a world of monsters, gods, half-gods, nature spirits, and various other non-human entities. How are these shocking to you?”
Percy waved his hands around, and probably would have smacked Will in the face if they hadn't been communicating over Iris-Message.
“But they're like- His children!” He pointed accusingly at Nico, who was lounging on a bunk in the Apollo cabin and serving as a pillow for one William and several baby demons. “Does he look like he's ready for parenthood?!”
“Thanks,” Nico deadpanned.
“We’ll manage,” Will mumbled, hardly paying attention to the conversation and instead focusing on Nico playing with his hair.
Percy stared hopelessly for another second, then buried his face in his hands. “I can't believe Nico is a father now. Annabeth. I’m an uncle, Annabeth.”
“Excuse me?” Nico asked. He was ignored.
“We’re not ready for this kind of responsibility, Annie.”
“They're fairly low-maintenance, actually,” Nico said, scratching Will behind the ears like he was a cat. Will hummed and leaned into his touch. “We haven't had to bottle-feed them or anything.”
“Oh gods,” Percy groaned. “Don't even joke.” He raised his head from his hands, somehow looking even more woebegone than before. “Those creatures are your children. This isn't right.”
“Your brother is a horse,” Annabeth pointed out. That effectively shut him up.
𖤓𖤓𖤓
“Have you guys been to that one Italian place?” Percy asked after several minutes of light chatter between Nico and Annabeth, who were now both being used as furniture by their respective boyfriends.
“You mean Italy? Yeah, I’ve been.”
Percy was unimpressed. “No. Like, the restaurant. The one that's a few blocks from my mom's apartment. I thought you guys might have stopped in for a little nibble, y’know, on your way to The Pit. Their sandwiches are quite good.”
“I can’t say we’ve been.”
“You should totally go.”
“Why?” Will inquired.
Percy shrugged, but there was a bit of a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Dunno. Something to do. It must get a bit boring being the only two demigods at camp right now. Or you could always, y'know, swing by and visit us.”
“He just wants a sparring partner who's not scared of him,” said Annabeth. “And some help with his homework.”
“Do not,” Percy argued.
“I do think that the restaurant could be a good idea, though,” she continued. “A little date night.” Her eyes were filled with mischief matching Percy’s own as she glanced towards him. “The new parents could use a break from their kids, don't you think so, hon?”
Percy groaned.
𖤓𖤓𖤓
Date night was going well. So far, Will had only cowered in fear from three pigeons, and Nico had only confused one police officer for a telkhine.
“I swear those teeth were made for biting people.”
“That's just ‘cause he’s a New Yorker, darling.”
Nico thought they would have received more strange looks, walking through the downtown area of a large city looking like, well, themselves. Nico had convinced Will not to wear his offensively orange camp shirt for once in his life, and Will had taken this as an invitation to wear the one with the tacky smiling sun instead.
In turn, Nico had been persuaded to leave his sword at camp, due to Will's insistence that it was “unnecessary” and would “get in the way” and “you can literally just shadow it to you if something happens, you don't need to tote it around 24/7”. Despite this, Will knew that his boyfriend was hiding a frankly ridiculous amount of daggers on his person, which one might find extremely attractive until one tried to cuddle him.
“I think it’s up here?” Nico said as they rounded a corner. “Percy can't give directions for shit. Unless you're out on the ocean. Which we aren't. If you couldn't tell.”
“Did he even tell us the name of the place?”
“Nope,” Nico said, stopping in front of the restaurant and peering up at the sign. “I mean, it can't be that hard to remem- what the Hades does that say.”
Will snickered at his confusion, then turned to the sign himself. “Having a little trouble, are w…. what the fuck does that say??”
The restaurant logo above the door, (painted with the obligatory green, red, and white), was in the least dyslexia-friendly cursive font that either of the boys had ever seen.
“If we weren't Greek, I would say this was Greek to me,” Nico mumbled.
“Dude, forget Greek. I think those might be hieroglyphs.”
“That's-” He glared. “Don't call me ‘dude’.”
“Sorry, bro,” Will retaliated. Nico's glare sharpened. Will happily continued to dig his own grave. “Buddy. Man. Pal.”
Nico slowly opened his jacket and reached for the inside pocket, not breaking eye contact. Will desperately bit back a snicker.
“Homie.”
This was the last straw. In the blink of an eye, Nico lunged and tackled Will, who had been anticipating it, and countered by grabbing him in a hug and spinning him around.
He feigned innocence. “Awww, I love you too.”
“Yeah,” Nico said. “Love you.” He pulled Will down by the back of his neck and kissed him, hard, for as long as was socially acceptable to do in the middle of a busy sidewalk, or perhaps slightly longer than that. When he pulled away, his boyfriend was pink in the face and slightly dazed, perfect for him to stand on his tiptoes and whisper in his ear.
“Bestie.”
And with that, he let go of him and stepped into the restaurant, settling gracefully into the booth nearest to the window. Will trailed along after him, looking a bit forlorn and a bit uncomprehending, like a wet kitten.
When he tried to sit on the opposite side of the table, Nico scooted over and motioned to the spot next to him. Will happily obliged.
Within a few minutes, a teenage waitress approached the table with menus.
“Hi, welcome to-” Some asshole outside laid on their horn. “Would you two like some water while you look over our menu?”
“Yeah, sure, thank you.”
“No problem. I’ll be right over with that.”
Will picked up a menu and stared at it.
“Is it in English?” Nico laughed, looking over his shoulder.
“I- yeah.” The menu was perfectly readable. “It's just, I dunno…”
Will felt stupid. This was not a first date. He didn't have to impress Nico by picking the most sophisticated item on the menu. The window of opportunity for either of them impressing the other with their sophistication had passed when he had met a semi-solid, Hawaiian-shirted Nico on Half-Blood Hill and casually asked him if he’d ever delivered a baby.
“What should I order?” he finally decided on asking.
His boyfriend shrugged. “I dunno. Food.”
“Thanks, babe. Helpful. Didn't Percy say something about the sandwiches?”
“I don't trust Percy’s opinions.”
𖤓𖤓𖤓
“Hey Pat.”
The cook poked his head out of the kitchen. “Yeah?”
The waitress grabbed two glasses. “Some dudes just came in and they were arguing about what to get. Apparently their friend recommended us. But get this, their friend’s name is Percy.”
Pat looked confused for a second, then huffed a laugh. “Imagine if it's The Percy.”
She filled the glasses. “I’m morbidly curious now. I feel like I gotta find out.”
“Dude, you gotta. We haven't heard about the guy since he crashed that car last year. Fuck knows what he's up to now?”
“I feel like a detective. How should I eavesdrop? Just keep refilling their water? Take my break a few tables away?”
“Lemme see.” Her brother poked his nose out front. “Those dudes by the window?”
“Yeah.”
“Girl, just talk to them. Aren’t you like a magnet for other gay kids anyway?”
“I'm not gay, Patrick.”
“It's an umbrella term, Natalia.”
“And how do you know that they're gay? Friends can get sandwiches together.”
A snicker. “Not like you’d know.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
𖤓𖤓𖤓
“Have you two made your decisions?” I ask, approaching the table once I’ve deemed it safe. These guys’ bickering seemed lighthearted and jokey, but it’s always awkward to interrupt a customer (excuse me, grandmother, I meant a guest) argument.
“Yeah, we have,” the dark-haired boy says, flashing a brief, emotionless smile. Maybe he also works in customer service. I feel like he's about to take my order.
“Can I get the bruschetta, please?” the other one asks, pronouncing it only slightly wrong.
“Bruschetta,” his companion corrects.
“Broozguddah,” he retaliates, pronouncing almost the entire word incorrectly in a badly exaggerated New York accent.
“I hate you.”
He ignores this, turning back to me and flashing a dazzling grin. “And a lemonade, please and thank you.” He hands me back the menus, and I notice a trans flag among the bracelets on his wrist. I bite back an ‘aaayyy, twinsies,’ because this is a professional setting.
I take the other guy’s order and return to the kitchen. That guy’s shirt had the name of a somewhat-popular country musician on it. He hadn't struck me as the type.
The lunch rush is over and the place is practically desserted (haha get it) right now, so I have a few minutes to chill after I give Pat the ticket.
I sit on the counter. Nonna yells at me to get off the counter. She yells at me in Italian, mind you, even though she knows I can hardly speak it. I catch a feminine article, though. All hail the Gender-Affirming Italian Grandmother.
Speaking of which, if I’m going to follow Patrick's (shitty) advice about the Percy Investigation, I need to befriend these dudes without coming across as a massive creep.
Normally I don't wear my pride pins at work, because I feel as though they scream “hey, world, call me slurs!”. Which, yeah, is shitty, but better safe than sorry.
I keep the pins in my pockets, though, for just these cases, when a queer person comes in and I get to be like “me too!”. Not that it matters, particularly. (Diversity win! The teenager who got you your breakfast sandwich is transgender!) But I think it can be nice to have a little reminder that you're not alone. Especially for people who aren't as lucky in terms of family support as I am.
Briefly, I wonder if those guys out there have supportive families. Then I remember that it's none of my business, and if I want to find out the Percy Lore (I really do), then I have to be Not Weird. Even though this Percy guy is none of my business either. But let's not get into that. Listen, if the kid who was always coming into your family's restaurant with his mom to get sandwiches vanished for a week, then appeared on national news for busting a hole in the Gateway Arch, you'd be curious too.
Pat yells something at me. I pin my pride flags onto my apron and grab the trays to bring out.
𖤓𖤓𖤓
From the restaurant’s kitchen, the dulcet tones of an older woman yelling curse words in Italian were heard. At least, that's what Will assumed, from the way his boyfriend began giggling and refused to translate.
Then, Will made puppy-dog eyes at Nico and asked him to please help him learn the correct pronunciation of ‘bruschetta’. (He was pretty sure he already knew, but he wanted to hear Nico explain it anyway.)
The waitress brought their food out, and he very pointedly thanked her for the bruschetta, pronounced properly, receiving a fond eyeroll from Nico.
As she stacked their empty water glasses, he noticed that she had a little enamel trans flag on her apron, right above the unreadable restaurant logo.
“Nice pin,” he said, pointing at it and grinning.
She matched his expression. “Thanks. Nice bracelet.”
“Thanks.”
Nico put his head in his hands. “Oh gods, he's found another one.”
The waitress raised an eyebrow slightly. Whether this was due to the statement itself or the plural ‘gods’ was unclear, but her face quickly returned to normal.
“He says I’m a trans people magnet,” Will explained.
“You are,” Nico groaned. “How do you find so many?”
“I mean, it's not that surprising that there's a lot of us around here,” he said, smiling. Nico returned the smile, then realized something and shot him a warning look.
“Uh, y’know, in a big city,” Will amended. “This city. Where we live. Yeah.” Nico elbowed him, then made his best ignore-what-my-boyfriend-just-said face up at the waitress. “Sorry about that. Thank you for the food.”
She looked amused, leaning on the next table over. “You guys tourists or something?”
“No,” Nico said, at the same time Will said “Yes.”
They both looked at each other, flustered.
“Uh, I mean, not technically,” Nico tried. “Neither of us is from the city, and we're living here for a while, but not necessarily permanently.”
“Cool.” The waitress nodded. “You guys go to one of those fancy alternative schools or something?”
Nico snorted despite himself.
“Fancy isn't the word I would use,” said Will. “It's more like, um…”
“A summer camp on cocaine,” Nico offered.
“Yeah. That.”
A laugh. “Okay. What's it called? I might’ve heard of it. My brother was looking into alternative schools a few years back.”
They exchanged a nervous glance.
“Uh, Delphi Academy.” That was what Chiron got for letting Apollo pick the cover names.
“Huh. Like the oracle?”
They exchanged another nervous glance. “Yeah,” Will imagined himself saying. “Her name’s Rachel. Want her number?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“That’s neat. Well, nice talking to y’all. Enjoy your meal.” She stood up and walked away.
“Now she thinks we're in a cult,” Will whispered, way too loudly.
Nico stared mournfully at the jumble of letters on the back of her retreating polo shirt. “We still haven't figured out what this dam place is called.”