Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Annabeth’s POV

                I guess it’s partially my fault that I had that…encounter.

                I was reading a book on architecture, in Ancient Greek, of course, as I was walking to the bakery. As usual, Percy had me go to the store to get him food, but I didn’t mind as much. I’m still studying in school to become a full-blown architect, so he has to work constantly. Anyways, I was totally engrossed in the chapter on Egyptian structural supports when the poor guy came around the corner. I guess I shouldn’t really call him “poor guy” since he tried to assault me, but I kind of feel bad.

                I guess I took a wrong turn somewhere, because when I looked up, I was in alleyway I didn’t recognize. Bewildered, I was looking around, trying to get my bearings when I heard a voice.

                “Give me your money!” I spun around to see a guy in his mid-twenties dressed in black, and holding up a knife. My first thought was that he wasn’t even holding the knife right; my second was: Is he seriously talking to me?  I looked around me to see if there was anyone else.

                “Give me your money!” he shouted again. I looked him in the straight in the eye, and tried to tone down my irritation at his audacity.

                “Take it easy, just leave me alone; and we can both walk away.” In one piece I silently added in my head.  He looked at me like I was the insane one here.

                “Are you crazy, or something?” If only he knew how crazy my life was, “I said: Give me your money!” Now, I was annoyed.

                “Yeah, I heard you the first time. I said: Walk away. Now.” He just stood there, his knife held sloppily aloft. I sighed.

                “I didn’t want to have to do this.” I leaned my bag against the wall, and stepped towards him, cracking my knuckles. He faltered, but stayed in place. Idiot.

                Once I was directly in front of him, I took the time to size him up. He was fairly scrawny, and despite his fearless façade, I could see the nervousness in his eyes. Rightfully so, I thought.               

                I saw him tighten his grip on the knife and wasting no time in sweeping his leg while punching him in the jaw. He went down and even dropped his knife. I was feeling charitable, so I decided to teach him.

                “If you’re going to threaten someone; then do it right.” I showed him how to hold the knife, pointing away from me, with a slightly pressured grip on the handle, near the hilt. He started to get back up, so when he was eye level with my waist, I caught him in the chest with a spinning roundhouse kick and enough force to bring down Clarisse. So, a lot.

                He looked at me with fury, and tried to grab my wrist, but I grabbed his hand and twisted until I only needed to apply minimal pressure to break his arm. After minutes of him struggling to get out, I spun his arm the other way, flipping him onto his back and knocking the breath out of him. Again, he tried to grab me, but I rolled and came up with the knife pointed at his throat and him on floor, me on my feet.

                I sighed again, and stepped away.

                “Give it a rest, will you? I give you points for persistence, and dock a few for sheer stupidity,” I said spinning his knife in the palm of my hand. The knife trick seems to scare people who don’t know how easy it is. Spinning around, I chucked the blade as far down the alley as I could, and left, grinning to myself.

Time skip

                When I got home, Percy was sitting on the couch eating blue Cheetos. Where does he even find those? I wondered.

                “So…I was attacked by a mugger on the way home.”He sat up, looking alarmed.

                “Is he okay?” He asked.

                “Him, what about me?” I demanded.

                “I know you’re fine, you can kick anyone’s butt. I just want to make sure you didn’t kill him.” I grinned at his explanation, mostly because it was true.

                “You didn’t, did you?”Percy asked. I smiled and shook my head. He relaxed and pulled me into his lap.

                “Did you get my blueberry muffins?”

                “Of course.”

Chapter Text

Piper’s POV

                It was entirely Jason’s fault that he got a face full of ice cream. NOT MINE. He’ll deny it, but it was him. I swear on the River Styx. If you can’t hear the thunder to confirm that, it’s not my fault.

                It was a totally innocent day when the stupidest mortal on the planet chose to do the stupidest thing. (Is “stupidest” a word?) Even after hearing Annabeth’s story, I didn’t really give it any thought. Oh, if you haven’t figured it out, I got mugged. Well, it was attempted, not really executed the right way.

                Let me start from the beginning. So, I was talking to Jason-- well, arguing with him, really-- on our way to the park. We were discussing the possibility that Jason forgot our first date anniversary. I was making the case he had resembled a deer caught in the headlights when I brought it up, and that if he ever forgot it again, he would feel my, and my mom’s, wrath. He was saying that he was trying to make it a surprise for me…four days ago. And let me tell you, I have not seen an inch of that surprise. They were both respectable arguments. The difference is, is that I was right.

                “Jason, I swear, it was four days ago.”

                “Pipes, I’m not saying anything for fear of ruining the…the…surprise! That’s it! Uh…I mean…”

                “Save it, Jason.” I rolled my eyes and continued to walk down the abandoned street. He caught up to me and pulled me around.

                “Sorry, Pipes. You have to accept you were wrong this time,” he faux-glared at me, a smirk playing on his lips. I tried to fight my own smile creeping onto my face, but I was adamant that he was wrong. He had to be wrong. ‘Cuz if he was right, then I, Piper Mclean daughter of the Goddess of Love, had forgotten my fist date anniversary with Jason Freaking Grace.

                My mind at this thought: ………………………………Oh gods………………………………………….

                “Admit it!”

                “No.”

                “Jason!” I whined.

                “Nope.”

                “PLEASE!” Yes, that’s right, I begged. I’d do it again if it meant he would admit that he was wrong.

                “No!”

                “Give me your money!” a new voice interrupted our spat. I turned to him and glared Kaptropis’s at him. That is to say, “daggers” at him.

                I was not in a happy mood, so when this guy ordered me to do something, I was feeling a little indignant.

                “I said give me your money!”

                “Yes, I heard you the first time,” I blurted, my temper flaring. Jason gave me warning look. I tended to—ah—get carried away occasionally.

                “Either I shoot hams at you, or at him,” I told Jason. The guy stared at me like I was insane, which I was, but he didn’t need to know that. Apparently he didn’t understand the immediate threat of high velocity honey baked hams being shot at him from a cornucopia. Well, he was about to find out.  I leveled my trusty weapon at him, and out of it exploded a feast fit for the gods. It appeared less friendly to someone who was choking on it, but that wasn’t my problem. As he went down under the onslaught of goods, I turned to Jason.

                “As I was saying, can’t you just admit it?”

                “No.” I glowered at him, and he had the nerve to smile. I was seriously considering charm-speaking him into doing something embarrassing like, I don’t know, running naked down Madison Avenue with antlers on his head (1) like my friend Jace did once, though he won’t admit it.

                While I was considering this, my mouth twisted into a scowl, the guy who was supposed to be intimidating us dug himself out of dinner and faced us again with a gun. I decided I might as well give him my attention and turned away from Jason to glare at him.

                “Would you like to do the honors, or shall I?” I muttered to Jason. He chuckled.

                “Take this as my apology to you,” He said, looking at me sideways. He rose up to his full height, and glared at the guy. When he wants to, Jason looks scarily intimidating and authoritative.

                “Take one more step towards my girlfriend, and I will fry you where you stand.” The guy stared at Jason, subconsciously stepping back. I knew Jason wouldn’t actually hurt him, so I stood there.

                Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled; it was getting easier for him to control his father’s element. He rose off the ground, a mini tornado holding him aloft. He flipped his coin and it grew into a wickedly sharp imperial gold sword poised at the assailant’s throat. With his clothes whipping around him, his body elevated, and the menacing, yet fake, scowl on his face he looked terrifying. I stifled a giggle seeing him like this, yet knowing who he really was.

                Let me say this, the look on the other guy’s face: priceless. He was petrified. Jason sunk back to the floor appearing as if he was barely restraining himself from unleashing Hades on that dude. Jason swiped his sword faster than the eye could follow and sliced through the barrel of the gun, severing it from the trigger and handle.

                His only weapon rendered ineffective, the stranger tried for a last chance to look menacing, but failed. Jason growled at him something I couldn’t hear. But, the fear on the man’s face, if possible, only grew. He turned tail and ran for his life.

                The storm cleared and Jason and I were left alone on the street.

                “What did you say to him?” I was curious as to what in the world could frighten him more than he already was.

                “I might’ve threatened to kick him in a highly sensitive area if he didn’t stop looking at you… possibly… maybe.” Jason looked sheepish, as if embarrassed that he had been so demanding, like a god.

                I grinned and threw my arms around his neck, giving him a peck on the cheek. I pulled back and looked at him with a stupid smile on my face.

                “What?” he demanded.

                “Oh, nothing.” I was secretly ecstatic that he would get so angry at the prospect at someone doing so little as looking at me. I shrugged and turned to continue walking down the street. He looked confused, but followed and wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

                “You’re still wrong. You know that, right?” I smirked at him.

                “Dream on, beauty queen.” After that little—Ah—remark, I may have accidentally shot four cartons worth of Ben and Jerry’s mint chocolate chip ice cream at his face. He didn’t seem to mind, just merely licked his lips.

                “Delicious,” he said.

Chapter Text

Reyna’s POV:

                It was one, long, stinky, smelly ride. Public transportation is not the way to go. Giant, flying eagles, on the other hand, was preferable, or Scipio (May he rest in peace). But, no, on my way to meet the seven and Nico to “hang out”, I had to go on a bus with the drunks and hobos of the world. Awesome.

                I was trying to stand as still as possible for fear of ramming into one of these weirdoes when someone’s elbow jabbed me in the nose. Ironically enough, my years of battle training were less than advantageous in this situation when my reflexes told me to sweep the guy’s leg and press my dagger to his neck holding him down with my forearm. Yeah…maybe not the best idea in the middle of a crowded bus.

                He was talking into his phone…well, yelling, really, and gesturing grandly. One of his gestures caught me upside the head when he turned around.

                I turned to look at him as I narrowly missed another passionate gesture. With a glare I usually only reserved for the likes of Octavian (may he rest in pieces), I observed him holding his phone away from his ear to get a better angle to scream at the phone with. I cleared my throat and amped up the glare from “glaring daggers” to “do you have a death wish?” He glanced at me and smirked/scowled at my seriousness.

                I tapped his shoulder.

                “I’m sorry, can I help you with something, little girl?” He put his hand over the speaker on his phone and sneered at me with sarcasm and derision. After he said his piece, he turned away and resumed his activities. I noticed a baby crying next to us at the aggressive tone he was employing.

                I snorted at his ignorance and placed myself in front of him. I made a motion across my throat with my hand in a “cut it out” gesture.

                “Go cry to your dad.” Now, I’m mad.

                I started to shout at him, but before I could utter more than two syllables, he backhanded me. That’s right, NOT the best move, stupid. As he turned around again, I clenched my jaw.

                I tapped on his shoulder again.

                “What?!” He yelled. Or, he meant to, before I nailed him in the nose with my right fist. The bus stopped and I dragged him off by his coat. Apparently, he didn’t expect me to be so straight forward and strong because he flailed around, cursing.

                I let go once we were a bit away from the bus and turned to face him. His face was flushed and his fists were trembling. I could hear Lupa’s snarl in my head, don’t fight a battle you can’t win, cub. I raised an eyebrow, and cracked my knuckles and neck. I shouldn’t have any problems with this one.

                “You need to learn your manners, girl.” He snarled in my face.

                I almost smiled; people are adorable when they think they can actually win. I raised an eyebrow again and beckoned to him with my hand. Come and get me.

                He scowled and rushed me, but I side stepped and placed a kick to his stomach, placing myself behind him. He doubled over, clutching his gut, wheezing. I whirled and smashed his nose again with a roundhouse kick. He straightened up as if he was a puppet pulled upright by his strings. He had the heel of his hand against his broken nose and was glaring at me murderously. I merely brushed some dirt off of my cape.

                “That was the wrong move, girl.” He growled out through gritted teeth.

                “Which one?” I asked, feigning innocence.  “The one where I cracked your rib, or the one where I broke your nose?”

                He glowered at me from black, beady eyes hidden beneath bushy eyebrows.

                He growled something unintelligible and charged me again, beefy hands stretched out in front of him. I ducked and jabbed his side with the cracked rib with my elbow. He inhaled sharply and turned to grab me again. He lumbered around drunkenly, throwing his massive weight around and swinging his fists in my direction.

                Each time his wild lurches came close I evaded them with my hands behind my back to make me a smaller target. A few times I executed a back hand spring or rolled beneath him to keep him confused. It became clearer than ever as we continued our little dance that he was drunk.

                I caught him in the back of the head with my elbow and he crumpled into the stiff grass.  I swung around to face him, though he couldn’t see me; his head was buried in the soil.

                “Next time you have one too many, stay home,” I advised him. He groaned faintly in response. I rolled my eyes; I had gone easy on him.

                With that, I checked my watch and strode back to the bus stop to wait for the number 11 bus.