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Percy Jackson has faced down and conquered monsters with dripping fangs, venom, and way too many limbs.
He has NOT faced down a bowl of blue Jell-O.
“Well?” Annabeth asks, arms crossed, watching him like this is a battle strategy meeting and not lunch.
“It’s moving,” Percy says.
“It’s jiggling.”
“It’s breathing, Annabeth.”
Grover leans in, squinting. “I don’t think it’s breathing.”
Percy points at it accusingly. The Jell-O jiggles again, as if in response.
“See?! It knows I’m here.”
Annabeth pinches the bridge of her nose. “Percy. It’s gelatin. You’ve eaten it before.”
“Yeah, and I’ve blocked it out for a reason.”
He picks up the spoon. The spoon trembles. Or maybe that’s his hand.
“It’s blue,” Grover offers, like that’s somehow helpful.
“I love blue food,” Percy says, scandalized. “Blue cookies? Amazing. Blue cake? Incredible. Blue pancakes? Life-changing. But this-” he gestures at the wobbling mass “-this is a betrayal.”
Annabeth raises an eyebrow. “It tastes the same.”
“It does NOT taste the same. Texture matters.”
She opens her mouth, probably to argue, then pauses. Percy notices the shift immediately, the way her expression goes from annoyed to calculating.
“...This is a texture thing,” she says slowly.
Percy lowers the spoon. “This is a war crime, is what this is.”
“No,” Annabeth says, stepping closer. “You’re not being dramatic. You’re-” she gestures vaguely “sensory-thing-ing.”
“That is not a word.”
“It is now.”
Grover nods sagely. “My cousin has that. He can’t eat mashed bananas. Says they feel ‘emotionally wrong.’”
Percy points at Grover. “Yes. Exactly. Emotionally wrong. That’s what this is.”
Annabeth looks back at the Jell-O, then at Percy, then sighs.
“Okay. Try anyway.”
Percy stares at her.
“Annabeth.”
“Just a small bite.”
“Annabeth.”
“For science.”
He narrows his eyes, but, well. It’s Annabeth. And if there’s one thing Percy Jackson is consistently bad at, it’s saying no to her when she pulls the ‘for science’ card.
“Fine,” he mutters.
He scoops up a small, trembling chunk. It wobbles violently on the spoon like it knows what’s coming.
“This is how I die,” Percy says.
“You’ve literally nearly died before,” Annabeth points out, "Multiple times."
“Yeah, but not like this.”
He brings the spoon closer.
The smell is fine. The color is great. Everything is fine.
Except-
The way it moves.
The way it slides.
The way his brain immediately goes ‘NOPE ABSOLUTELY NOT ABORT MISSION GET IT AWAY FROM ME IMMEDIANTELY’
He forces it into his mouth.
There is a split second of silence.
Then-
Percy gags.
Not a polite cough. Not a subtle ‘hmm, not my favorite.’
A full-body, soul-leaving, dry-heaving gag.
The spoon clatters to the table as Percy bolts up, hand over his mouth, eyes watering.
“Nope,” he chokes out. “Nope, nope, nope-”
He barely makes it three steps before he’s doubled over, retching into the nearest trash can.
Grover yelps and pats his back. “Oh gods- Percy- are you okay?!”
“I told you-” Percy gasps between heaves “-I TOLD YOU!”
Annabeth is already moving, grabbing a cup of water and shoving it into his hands the second he straightens.
“Okay,” she says firmly. “Okay, that’s on me. That’s my fault.”
Percy takes a shaky sip, glaring at the table like the Jell-O personally wronged him.
“It’s EVIL,” he says hoarsely.
“It’s not evil,” Annabeth says, but she sounds less certain now.
“It moved, Annabeth.”
“It’s supposed to-”
“It moved with intent!”
Grover nods. “I did see that.”
Annabeth throws her hands up. “It does NOT have intent!”
Percy points weakly at the bowl. “It tried to KILL me!”
“You tried to eat it.”
“And whose fault is that?”
Annabeth opens her mouth, then closes it again.
“…Fair.”
There’s a moment of silence.
Then she sighs and gently nudges the bowl away from Percy.
“Okay,” she says. “No more slimy food.”
Percy leans back in his chair, still pale. “Thank you.”
“We’ll stick to solid blue things.”
“Bless you.”
Grover hesitates. “What about pudding?”
Percy and Annabeth both look at him.
“Grover,” Annabeth says carefully, “now is not the time.”
Percy visibly shudders.
“Absolutely not.”