Work Text:
Annabeth had seen a lot of astonishing things in her life. Perks of being a demigod.
A classmate turning into a lamia mid-semester? Normal.
A hellhound chasing a car like it was a chew toy? Fantastic.
A pre-K teacher hissing at her during an overly enthusiastic rendition of "Let’s Be Kind"? Honestly, expected.
But a grey Mercedes-Maybach pulling up in front of her school?
That was new.
The car eased to a stop by the curb, too smooth, too quiet compared to the mess of parents and buses around it. The window slid down.
Athena.
Annabeth stopped so suddenly her backpack strap slipped off her shoulder.
“Mom?”
“What?” Her friend whipped around, eyes wide, following her stare. “I thought she lived abroad. Like your dad.”
“She does,” Annabeth muttered, not taking her eyes off the car. Or the woman behind the wheel. For half a second, she wondered if this was a trick. A Mist thing, Something with teeth perhaps.
“You never told us she was rich,” her friend added, almost reverent. “That car is sick.”
Annabeth felt a hand land on her shoulder and forced a tight, nervous smile. “I don’t really know much about her family,” she lied. “She lives far away. Probably just visiting.”
She stepped back, shrugging off the hand. “I should go, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She waved quickly and started down the steps, slower than usual, counting them without meaning to. Just in case something decided to go wrong.
Athena waited until Annabeth reached the passenger side before unlocking the doors. The inside smelled faintly like leather and something clean, unfamiliar. Athena glanced at her as she got in, a small smile touching her lips, restrained, almost cautious.
“Wasn’t expecting me?”
Annabeth blinked, fingers still curled around the door handle. “It’s not like you pick me up after school. Like. Ever.”
“Everything has a first,” Athena said, eyes already back on the road.
“Well, yeah, but—”
“Buckle up.” Athena started the engine, the sound barely more than a hum. “This isn’t a waiting zone, and I’m not in the mood for paying a fine.”
Annabeth clicked her seatbelt without argument. The car slipped into traffic smoothly, leaving the school behind far too quickly. She stole glances at her mother, the way her hands rested steady on the wheel, precise even when they turned.
“Who was the girl at the top of the stairs?” Athena asked suddenly, as if they hadn’t skipped several beats of conversation.
“A friend.”
“I never would have guessed.”
Annabeth frowned, turning in her seat slightly. “Was that sarcasm?”
“Then you need to answer questions better, child.” Athena didn’t look at her. “How was school?”
Annabeth hesitated, watching the buildings blur past the window. “Good. I guess.”
She hummed under her breath, then glanced back at Athena. “So… why did you pick me up?”
She shifted in her seat. “I don’t want to be rude or anything, but I’m really not in the mood for a quest. Tartarus kind of exhausted me. I just want to go to my school in peace and—”
“I’m not here to give you a quest,” Athena interrupted.
After a moment, she added more quietly, “I thought I might surprise you. Especially since you’ve been… low lately.”
Annabeth frowned. “Low? How would you even know that?”
Athena flicked her a glance, one brow lifting. “You were crying last night.”
“I was not—”
“I am a goddess, child.” Her voice stayed even. “I hear my daughter’s stress.”
Heat crept up Annabeth’s neck. She turned her face toward the window, pretending to be very invested in a passing traffic light.
“Especially now,” Athena continued, “since your grandfather loosened certain restrictions after the Gaia incident. The gods are… adjusting. It has not gone unnoticed.”
Annabeth let the words pass over her. God politics always came with a headache.
“It wasn’t that serious,” she said instead. “I just got a D-minus. And it’s not even fair! My dyslexia messed me up. I didn’t realize I’d switched to Greek.”
Her words sped up, hands fidgeting in her lap.
“I know,” Athena said. “I spoke to your teacher.”
Annabeth snapped her head around. “You what?”
Athena sighed softly, easing the car to a stop at a red light. “I asked her to reconsider your answers. The language was incorrect, yes, but the content was not. Your dyslexia is not negligence.”
Annabeth stared at her. “And?”
“She agreed to reevaluate. After I translated your responses, she understood they were accurate.”
Annabeth swallowed. Her mouth felt suddenly dry. “Th-thank you.”
Athena allowed herself a small smile as the light turned green. “You’re welcome.”
Then, casually, “A little bird also mentioned you have your first license exam this weekend.”
Annabeth frowned. “Little bird? Who told you?”
“Glaucus.”
“…Who?”
“My owl.”
There was a beat. The car rolled on in silence.
“You sent an owl after me?” Annabeth groaned, dropping her head back against the seat. “Mom.”
Athena lifted both hands briefly from the wheel in a placating gesture before returning them. “He watches you for me. You are still a demigod. And still in a city.”
“You could’ve told me!”
Athena sighed, eyes still on the road. “Change of topic. Have you been practicing for your exam?”
Annabeth shot her a look. “With what? I don’t even have a car to practice with. And Sally and Percy are off at their beach cabin.” She paused, then added quickly, “They invited me, but I heard there are, like, so many spiders, so I said no.”
Athena was quiet for a moment, the car slowing as she thought. Then she spoke, calm as ever.
“Well. You do have a car.”
“Huh?” Annabeth blinked. “Where?”
Athena tapped the steering wheel lightly. “Here.”
Annabeth’s eyes widened. “This car? No way. I am not driving this.”
Athena frowned, genuinely puzzled. “Why? What is wrong with my car?”
Annabeth stared at her. “Everything. I am not taking a Mercedes to practise. What if I crash it?”
“Then I repair it, well, Hephaestus would,” Athena said simply. “You will still be fine.”
Annabeth let out a long sigh, slumping back in her seat. “…Fine. What do I do?”
Athena pulled over smoothly and stopped the car. She unfastened her seatbelt and stepped out.
“First,” she said, “we see how much you know without being inside the car. Out.”
Annabeth followed, nerves buzzing under her skin. The air outside was cooler, quieter. Athena walked to the front and opened the hood, the metal lifting with an easy motion.
“Now,” Athena said, gesturing inside, “explain these.”
Annabeth leaned forward, blinking at the unfamiliar layout. Athena waited a second, then sighed.
“Alright. Show me the engine oil.”
Annabeth pointed hesitantly.
“That is the brake fluid, child.”
Annabeth pouted. “Okay.”
Athena exhaled and shifted closer, pointing one by one. “I will show you first. You repeat later.”
She tapped the battery. “This is the battery. Without it, the car will not start.”
Then the air filter. “This cleans the air before it enters the engine.”
She pulled out the dipstick slightly. “This is engine oil. You check the color here. It is very important.”
Her finger moved again. “Coolant. It prevents the engine from overheating.”
“Brake fluid.”
“And washer fluid. This one, you can add yourself.”
She straightened. “Alright?”
Annabeth nodded, jaw set, determination clear in her grey eyes.
Athena folded her arms. “Now. You repeat.”
Annabeth repeated everything without a flaw. Athena listened closely, then nodded in approval.
“Good.” She closed the hood with a firm click.
She turned toward the car. “Inside again, child. Act like you’re in the exam and about to start the vehicle. Driver’s seat.”
Annabeth’s stomach fluttered as she climbed into the driver’s seat, fingers brushing the steering wheel before she pulled her hand back. Athena slid into the passenger seat, closing the door calmly.
Annabeth reached for the wheel again.
Athena stopped her with a raised hand. “Do you think the seat is adjusted properly?” Her eyes flicked down. “And you are not buckled.”
Annabeth frowned. “Seat?”
“You are too far back because you are so short for it,” Athena said. “You can barely reach the gas or the brake. They will not adjust it for you during the exam. You must do it yourself.” She nodded to the side. “There is a handle on your left.”
Annabeth leaned down, found it, and pulled. The seat slid forward with a small jerk.
“Good,” Athena said. “Now buckle up. Forgetting it is an automatic failure. Safety first.”
Annabeth clicked the seatbelt into place, then rested both hands on the wheel, shoulders tense.
“Now,” Athena continued, “the dashboard.” She pointed calmly. “This is the speedometer. This is the fuel gauge. Seatbelt warning.” Her finger paused. “And these are important: battery light and engine warning light. If either turns on while driving, you pull over and call for help. Do you understand?”
Annabeth nodded quickly.
“And here,” Athena added, glancing down, “gas pedal. Right foot. Brake pedal. Left foot. And this—” She tapped the gear selector. “You tell me.”
“PRNDL,” Annabeth said, a little too proudly.
Athena frowned. “The what?”
“The- I mean—”
“This is the gear lever,” Athena corrected. “Repeat.”
Annabeth did, without a single mistake.
“Good,” Athena said, and the praise made Annabeth’s lips curve into a small smile. “Now, before we move, mirrors. Always first. Tell me , can you see clearly?”
Annabeth checked each mirror carefully, adjusting one just a little, then nodded. Her chest felt lighter. Her mom actually made this feel doable.
Athena nodded back. “Foot on the brake. When I shift to D, you slowly release.”
Annabeth watched closely as Athena moved the gear. Then she lifted her foot too quickly.
The car rolled forward.
“Okay, now the gas, slow—”
The car lurched.
Athena reacted instantly, hand gripping the wheel. “Slowly, child. Slowly. I have no intention of sending you to the hospital, nor placing myself on Hephaestus’ repair waiting list.”
Annabeth laughed under her breath, cheeks warm. “Sorry.”
Athena reached over and briefly ruffled her blond curls. “Continue. Slowly.”
Annabeth stuck her tongue out slightly in concentration and pressed the gas with care. The car moved at a steady pace now.
“Okay… okay. Is this good?”
“Yes,” Athena said, keeping one hand lightly on the wheel, just in case. “Now relax. Do not press the gas further. Keep your foot ready on the brake. Move gently to the right.”
Annabeth turned the wheel too sharply.
The car swerved, but Athena corrected it immediately. “No sharp turns. Ever.” Her voice stayed calm. “Straighten the wheel. Now continue.”
Annabeth obeyed, pride bubbling in her chest as the car rolled forward smoothly beneath her hands. She was actually driving. During the ride, Athena explained the road signs one by one, what each meant and how to respond. Annabeth soaked it all up, listening closely, afraid to miss even a word.
Athena chose an open road, far from heavy traffic. Annabeth was still a beginner, after all. Athena kept one hand hovering near the wheel, just in case, explaining calmly that even if they went a little far, she could easily take them back. There was no need to worry.
Annabeth enjoyed the quiet quality time, the way her mother taught without rushing, without scolding. Athena’s sudden depth of knowledge about cars wasn’t shocking, she was the goddess of wisdom, apparently knowing everything, but it still impressed her.
They drove slowly, Athena continuing to explain safety rules.
“If the car ahead signals right,” Athena said, “you reduce your speed and—”
“Mom!” Annabeth gasped suddenly. “Look! Cows!”
Athena frowned. “What?”
“Cows! On the right, see?” Annabeth pointed eagerly.
Athena tightened her grip on the wheel at once. “Child. You are driving. You do not point while driving.” She glanced anyway. “Yes, I see them. Bovines. I am familiar. They eat, they ruminate, chew, produce milk—”
“And they’re cute,” Annabeth added.
Athena hesitated. “I wouldn’t—” She sighed. “Fine. Yes. They are… acceptable.”
Annabeth smiled. “I still like them, even after what Hera did. I love animals. They’re all so cute! Speaking of animals, remember when I once wanted—”
“I am not getting you a dog,” Athena said immediately.
“It’s small! And easy to take care of!”
“A Doberman is neither small nor easy.”
Annabeth pouted. “But—”
“You are still in school,” Athena cut in. “Who would care for the dog? When you graduate, I will consider it. Deal?”
Annabeth sighed. “Fine. I guess.”
Athena nodded, watching the road. “Your control of the wheel has improved. You are no longer turning sharply. You follow the signs well and check your mirrors.” She glanced at Annabeth. “Just don’t let yourself get distracted again.”
Annabeth nodded, chastened.
“I will teach you parking tomorrow,” Athena continued. “It is not fair to teach everything in one day.”
“You’d pick me up again?” Annabeth asked quietly.
“Yes,” Athena said without hesitation. “I would.”
Annabeth smiled, warmth settling in her chest.
“Now pull over slowly,” Athena instructed. “We’ll switch. You’re not ready for traffic yet.”
Annabeth did as told, easing the car to the side before they changed seats.
She buckled in again, watching her mother do the same.
“You did well,” Athena said, placing a hand briefly on her shoulder. “I am proud of how quickly you improved.”
Annabeth smiled wider.
“Now rest,” Athena added, adjusting the seat so it leaned back slightly. “This will be more comfortable.”
“Thank you, Mom,” Annabeth murmured. “I had a good time.”
Athena ruffled her golden curls gently. “Me too. Much better than Olympus. Even with the minor heart attacks.”
Annabeth giggled. “Do you think I’ll pass on my first try?”
“I think you will do well,” Athena said. “But I cannot see the future.”
Annabeth nodded, eyes finally closing as the car started again. The low hum of the engine, her mother’s quiet presence, and the soft buzz of the world outside lulled her to sleep.