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Percy woke suddenly, and his vivid dream vanished into the void. He tried to grab at it, but it was like clutching fog, and by the time he remembered where he was, his memory of the dream was gone.
He was visiting Annabeth for the Thanksgiving holidays. The drive from New Rome to New York was a long drive to make in the few days they had off of school, so Sally got to see her boy at Christmas, and Frederick got to see his girl at Thanksgiving. They'd arrived Monday night. Annabeth's stepmom had turned her nose up at Percy sharing a room with Annabeth, but no one wanted him to share with Annabeth's brothers, who were reaching that age where all they did when they were in the same room was fight one another. That meant he could have the couch in the living room or share with Annabeth. Annabeth had won the fight of keeping Percy in her room, purely on the argument of, "Dad, what are we even going to do in this house? You'd be able to hear everything."
Frederick had gone very red and both parents had given their permission to let Percy sleep on a blow-up mattress in Annabeth's room. So now an unused mattress took up most of the floor of Annabeth's room.
Percy sat up carefully, trying not to wake Annabeth. She slept on the outside of the bed. He preferred the coolness of the wall, though being on the inside of the bed made waking up first very difficult. Normally, he would be content to lay back down and sleep again. He liked sleeping with Annabeth--just sleeping next to her. It was relaxing, comforting. Nap-dates were Percy's favorite dates. But he didn't feel right. He'd woken so abruptly, like something was wrong. He glanced at his pen on the on the floor, just sticking out of the pocket of his jeans, where they'd been discarded last night. The Greek lettering glittered in the soft morning sunlight. He'd have to climb over Annabeth to get to it. There was no gentle way to do that.
Percy crawled to the edge of the bed and managed to slip through the small space between the wall and Annabeth's feet. Luckily her knees were drawn up, and he had just enough space to slide to the floor. She didn't stir.
Percy picked up his jeans and his pen, thinking holding his weapon might help him feel a little better, but it didn't. Something still felt very wrong in the gut of his stomach, something terrible. He realized all at once what was going on and ran from the bedroom, across the hall, into the bathroom. He made it to the toilet just in time to retch up the contents of his stomach, which was exactly nothing.
They'd had a light dinner around six, and it was twelve hours later. Percy's stomach had seen only a glass of water in all that time, and that glass of water came up along with some very bitter bile.
When his stomach had given up trying to eject itself through his esophagus, he sat back against the wall. He knew it wasn't a real test, but he pressed his hand to his head to check for any sort of temperature difference. It didn't tell him anything. He stood up, feeling weak and achey, and tired more than anything else, and searched for a thermometer in the medicine cabinet. He found one that had to be years old, definitely the kind that went up baby's butts, and searched for something else. He found only aspirin, a half-full bottle of cough medicine, and a bottle of Pepto-Bismol with a quarter-inch of pink liquid in its base. He had no idea how old it was, but it might be the medicine he needed. Or, if he had the flu, maybe it was a bad idea.
What a great break from school this is, he thought. A week staying with my girlfriend's family, and I get sick on day three. I won't be eating any turkey on Thursday at this rate.
There was a knock on the door.
"Percy? Are you in there?" Annabeth called. "Can you hurry up? I have to pee, like, really bad."
Percy put the pink bottle back into the cabinet and closed it. He put his jeans on over his boxers, so at least he'd be half-decent if he ran into any family members in the hallway, and took a swig of mouthwash as quickly as he could to get rid of the terrible taste in his mouth.
He opened the door for Annabeth. "Hey--sorry. Didn't mean to take so long."
"It's fine." She edged around him and closed the door before he could ask her if there was a thermometer somewhere.
He stood alone in the hallway for a moment before deciding to just go back to Annabeth's room. He could at least get dressed.
He dug through his backpack for a clean shirt. The first one he grabbed was a long-sleeved blue thermal, so he pulled it over his head. The chill he'd attributed to being shirtless didn't leave him, and he sat down on the air mattress, thinking he might have to resign himself to being sick.
Annabeth knocked on the bedroom door before opening it, which seemed a little silly as it was her house, and she'd definitely seen him naked before, but he supposed he'd do it for her, too.
"Dressed already?" she asked. "Going somewhere?"
She was still wearing her lacy undershirt and pale-blue shorts that covered not much more than a bathing suit might. Getting back into bed to cuddle looked really tempting, especially with how cold Percy suddenly felt.
"I don't... feel well," he finished lamely, not really sure how to tell her he'd just puked up an empty stomach.
She frowned. Her brows knit together, and he knew from her expression her brain was trying to quickly solve him, like he were a problem to be figured out. He didn't mind. He certainly wouldn't mind if she figured out a sudden cure that might make him feel better.
"Did you take your temperature?"
"Couldn't find a thermometer."
"I'll look for one. Stay here."
Percy laid down on the air mattress and closed his eyes. He didn't know how long Annabeth was gone. He felt like he had only just closed his eyes, but he had the sensation he'd been dreaming for quite some time. Not that dreams were a good way to judge the passing of time, but it left him very disoriented when Annabeth nudged his shoulder and handed him a thermometer.
"Sorry it took so long," she said. "I don't know this house well, since I'm never here. You alright?"
Percy sat up and uncapped the thermometer. "Yeah," he said automatically, even though it wasn't true in any sense. "I just... threw up."
"Oh, gods, I'll get you something for your stomach, okay?"
Percy nodded and stuck the thermometer under his tongue. He thought it'd be nice to lay back down, but he'd risk choking on the thermometer, so instead he reached up and grabbed a pillow off of Annabeth's bed. He rested it against her bed and leaned against it. It was like each passing second his body felt worse and worse. How long had it even been since he'd woken up and not even known something was wrong with him? And now here he was, feeling too weak to properly hold his head up.
Annabeth returned with a glass of something clear and fizzing. The thermometer beeped, and Percy traded Annabeth the thermometer for the glass.
She took a minute to decipher the digital lines into proper numbers. "One-oh-two point three," she pronounced sadly. "Better get back into bed."
Percy wanted to groan, whine, complain, but he found he didn't even have the energy for a single sigh. He was very focused on staying alert and drinking the soda Annabeth had given him. He took a large sip. It was bitter, metallic, and almost as bad as his stomach bile. He spat it back into the glass.
"Are you trying to poison me? What is this?"
"Alka-seltzer, seaweed brain. What did you think it was?"
"I dunno. Sprite? Something sweet, not something that tastes like liquefied imperial gold."
"Sugar isn't good for an upset stomach."
"Mom always gives me Sprite or 7-Up when I'm sick."
"Maybe we have something diet. I'll check."
Percy felt bad as she left, like maybe he was being too demanding. He was a guest in this house, after all. But she was gone, and he made a mental note to ask for as little as possible. He set the glass on Annabeth's desk and pulled a spare blanket off the bed. He supposed this air mattress was going to get some use after all.
Annabeth reappeared with a can of diet ginger ale. "How's this?" she said, and opened it for him.
"That sounds amazing." He took it from her and sipped it. Diet soda wasn't all that great, but it was much sweeter than what she'd given him before, and he was grateful.
"You probably have the flu," she said. "Hopefully it's a twenty-four hour bug, and you'll be fine tomorrow morning. But my stepmom probably won't let you anywhere near the kitchen between now and dinner on Thursday."
Percy had been looking forward to helping cook. He and his mom had always cooked together, ever since he was little, but he nodded. "That's fair, I guess."
"For now just drink your soda, stay hydrated. I wish we had nectar or unicorn draught, but I honestly didn't think to bring any. I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it. It's just the flu. Though, if we were cuddling all night, you might get sick too. Sorry."
Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Remember when I said, 'Hey, Percy, make sure you get your flu shot after class today, because I won't be home to do it with you until after the clinic closes,' and you said, 'I never get the flu anyway,' and I said, 'Better safe than sorry,' and you said, 'Yeah, sure, okay.'? Just because I got a shot doesn't mean I won't get the flu, since they're all different strains, but it's very possible I'll be quite fine. Don't worry about me."
Percy didn't even have the energy to feel scolded. He only smiled crookedly at her and took another sip from the soda can. The sweetness tasted good, but the bubbly drink wasn't making him feel any better.
Annabeth stepped around Percy and the air mattress to get to her closet. Percy politely closed his eyes while she dressed, even though he'd seen her naked fairly frequently, but there was still a level of polite shyness between them. If he'd been feeling better, he might've made a joke about it, or openly stared for the sake of humor, but he didn't have the strength for something like that. He took another sip of his soda and rested his hand on his chest, like it might keep everything down, if he thought hard enough about it.
Even though plenty of time had passed for Annabeth to be dressed, Percy didn't reopen his eyes. Just thinking about it was exhausting. He continued sipping at his soda, waiting for the ginger ale to do its job and the nausea to settle.
The door opened and closed, meaning Annabeth had gone somewhere. Percy didn't know where. Hopefully not to get him more Alka-seltzer. He heard her come back, but she didn't give him anything. He heard her settle down on the bed and the scratch of her pen against paper. It was a comforting sound, listening to her work. He wondered what she was working on. Sure, they each had several assignments to do over the holiday break, but Percy didn't plan on starting any of them until Saturday, at the earliest. Why she was doing homework on a Tuesday was beyond him, but he was glad of the noise for comfort. The soft flip of a page, the harsher crinkle of notebook paper against the spiral binding, and her gentle "hmm" every time she ran into a problem that challenged her.
Timed almost perfectly to the end of finishing his can of soda, though, Percy began to feel very wrong all over again. He slipped his hand in his pocket for his pen, but knew what he ought to be doing was finding the effort to go back to the toilet.
It's not a warning for danger, he told himself. It just means my stomach is really mad about the ginger ale.
He used Annabeth's bed to help him up and walked across the hall to the bathroom. For the second time that morning, he ejected the contents of his stomach. Though this time, there were twelve additional ounces of ginger ale. It tasted only mildly better than stomach bile.
This time, Percy decided to brush his teeth instead of just swishing breath freshener in his mouth. It required more work, but it would be more effective. He took two minutes and felt a lot better when he was done, like a living human being and not a walking zombie.
He went back into Annabeth's room and collapsed on the air mattress. "I'm so hungry," he whined.
"You did just empty your stomach... is that twice now? It's no wonder you're hungry."
"I want pancakes."
"I'm sure you do, but you're limited to an ABC diet. Applesauce, bread, and--"
"Cake. Pancakes."
"Crackers."
"But I want pancakes. They're basically bread, right?"
Annabeth sighed. "Do you want me to get you a glass of water?"
"No. I'll probably just throw it up."
"You're drinking one glass of water in an hour, okay? I don't want you to get dehydrated."
Percy grumbled in agreement. He waited for the sounds of her working to begin again, but they didn't. After a moment he heard her let out a long sigh and mutter, "Now I want pancakes."
--- --- ---
Percy didn't know how long he was asleep for. He didn't know when he fell asleep and he didn't know what time it was when he woke up, but the sky still looked like morning. He sat up and noticed Annabeth was gone. He didn't feel amazing, but he didn't feel like he was dying, at least not as much. Except he was still absolutely starving. He took the cup of Alka-seltzer to the bathroom and rinsed it out, replacing the gross bitter water with fresh, plain, tap water.
It wasn't Sprite, but it would have to do.
He stepped out into the hallway and nearly bumped into Bobby... or Matthew. Percy had trouble telling them apart on a good day.
"Morning," he said, wondering if it was still morning.
"Hey. You alright? Dad said you're not feeling well."
"Uh, I'm a little sick. Have you seen Annabeth?"
"She said she left you a note, but she didn't say where she was going. Don't breathe on me."
"Yeah, right, sorry." Percy stepped around Bobby-or-Matthew and back into Annabeth's room. He took another sip of water and checked the back of the bedroom door. Sure enough, there was a note. It took him a minute to read it.
"Hey Sleepy, gone for pancakes. BRB."
Percy sat back down on the air mattress. His stomach's grumbling sounded more like a hum of excitement. He wondered if his body would let him eat pancakes, or if he'd just puke them up with everything else he threw at his stomach.
It was only another minute before Annabeth came in the door with a stack of to-go boxes. She handed one to Percy. It was warm in his hands and he could smell the butter pancakes before he even opened it.
"Thanks," he said with a wide smile. Then frowned, "But what if I just throw them up?"
"Then we'll get you soup and crackers and see if you can keep that down."
Percy thought that was fair, and he was so grateful to Annabeth for all she did for him.
She sat down next to him on the air mattress with her own box of food and leaned against him.
"You sure you want to cuddle with me?" he asked.
"I'm either already infected or already immune, so there's no point to quarantining you, is there?"
He grinned and leaned his head against hers. "No, I guess not. I love you, you know that, right?"
"I do know that." She opened her box and Percy could smell bacon. It smelled good, but he was not about to test his stomach with red meat.
"Where's the syrup?" he asked.
"Oh, no, you're not getting sugar. You couldn't even keep down diet soda."
"You want me to eat pancakes plain?"
"You have the flu. No syrup."
Percy took one of the thick pancakes and ripped off a bite-sized piece. He shoved it in his mouth and without even chewing said, "I take it back. I don't think I love you."
"I'm not entirely sure what you said, but if you said what I think you said, I'm going to pretend you didn't, and that you're actually very grateful I went all the way to buy you breakfast when you're sick."
Percy swallowed. "Yeah, I know. You're really the best girlfriend ever."
"Percy, you still can't have syrup."
"It was worth a shot."