Chapter Text
Take it from Apollo and his many millenia of experience, romantic reunions are best done when one isn’t completely drenched in the scent of garbage after dumpster diving.
Additionally, after ghosting someone for months—even if it wasn’t intentional—it’s not usually the best idea to show up unannounced at their doorstep looking miserable after getting beaten up by some common street thugs with a strangely aggressive adolescent girl in tow.
In such cases, it’s pretty common for the ghostee to join in and teach their ghoster a lesson with their fists. Yes, it’s much wiser to send a text beforehand in warning. A little Hey! Sorry for going AWOL for the past few months! Can I drop by? can save one from a good thrashing.
Unfortunately, Apollo’s father was not so merciful or considerate to throw a phone alongside him when Apollo got booted out of Olympus.
Thus, as he stands outside the Jackson apartment, Apollo doesn’t need his powers over prophecy to know that he has a third beating coming his way. Apollo’s desperate enough, though, that he doesn’t even think he’ll mind (that much.) Sure, maybe a drop kick will hurt his probably-bruised ribs, but going without a Percy Jackson refill for any longer will definitely hurt his heart.
Apollo stands, trying his best not to hunch in on his injuries, deciding to face whatever anger comes his way with full responsibility. After all, it’ll make it easier to wheedle his way back into Percy’s heart if he doesn’t upset him anymore.
And, as per usual, Perseus Jackson lives outside any of Apollo’s preconceived notions.
“Apollo,” Percy breathes, voice surprised but also colored with relief, his face looking awed rather than disgusted.
Well, Apollo tells himself. That won’t last long.
Once Percy finds out about Apollo’s state, it’s inevitable that all reverence will dissipate, but after his past hour of humiliation, Apollo revels in it.
In comparison to Apollo’s stuck in some body of a very sadly average teenager, Percy stands in the doorway to his apartment, looking just as unreal as he had months ago, storming across ruins in Rome to Apollo. The yellow light of the hallway glows against Percy’s skin, making him look like the godly one.
(Though… Percy might actually have more divinity between the two of them right now. As far as Apollo can tell, Lester’s just a plain old mortal. Truly, it’s a disturbing thought. Apollo doesn’t want to be plain.)
What more is a mere human supposed to do when presented with the divine? True to his new role, Apollo stands frozen in place as he simply… marvels.
It’s been a long time since he last saw Percy. He’s already trying to memorize the new little changes. The gray streak in Percy’s hair has finally faded, his tan looks a little lighter than it had in the summer, and… he looks alleviated from a crushing weight on his shoulders.
For however much Apollo is staring, he still somehow doesn’t realize Percy is moving until Apollo finds himself wrapped in a warm embrace as Percy hugs him, yet instantly, something wound tightly within Apollo begin to relax.
He rests his head against Percy’s chest and inhales that unique seaside scent that so few ever get to breathe. Apollo can feel himself trembling a bit, which is pathetic, he’s supposed to be a god—but, for the first time since he found himself falling from the sky straight into a dumpster, Apollo allows himself a moment of reprieve.
Yes—okay. Zeus kicked him off Olympus. Again. Okay. Things are—they’re not great or good, in fact they’re pretty bad, but. It’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. Eventually. He always is, and though Apollo’s definitely pissed off his father, he’ll surely calm down. Probably. For now, even though there’s this strange weight of dread in his stomach, Apollo can’t feel completely miserable when he’s so comfortably enveloped by Percy and—wait.
Apollo wrenches himself out of Percy’s hold, a feeling of dread washing over him as he remembers his current form. A form that has a face covered in itty-bitty pimples and giant pores, with oily skin that gave him goosebumps too look at too closely in the reflection of windows. A form that smells like rotting deli food, spoilt juice, and that is shorter than Percy.
Considering everything else that he has going on, this shouldn’t be the revelation that sends him to the edge, but it is. A feeling of horror begins to creep up over Apollo.
What was he thinking? Why would he ever show Percy this utterly miserable side of him? Apollo can’t even blame Percy for how he’ll slam the door shut in his face once Apollo doesn’t shed this mediocre form within the next few minutes. After all, he certainly wouldn’t open his doors to some pathetic wretch.
“Apollo?” Percy asks while Apollo tries not to gag on the lump in his throat. Percy’s looking closely—too closely—at Apollo’s unfortunate, beaten and bruised form with those beautiful, cracked sea green eyes, and Apollo can nearly make out his reflection.
Suddenly, there’s this urge Apollo can’t quash to cover Percy’s eyes and cower someplace where no one will ever have to see him.
This is not how the two of them are meant to be.
Percy is meant to be the world-weary yet still hopeful and merciful hero, and Apollo is meant to be an honor on the side, a source of pride in myths and in Wikipedia. This is meant to be the story of a mortal with a heart so raw that it could move even the will of the gods. The tale of a valiant demigod who captured the affections of the lustrous, unattainable sun god.
Percy only deserved the best of the best, and even as a god, Apollo learned what a blessing his attention was.
Except Apollo’s not a god right now.
He’s disgraced, trapped in a middling human body, unable to do anything against a couple of puny street thugs, and Percy is still as humanely flawless as he has always been, deserving more than Apollo could offer as a god, and far, far more than what he could even imagine as a mortal.
“Apollo?” Percy repeats, voiced flooded with worry. “What’s going on? What’s wrong? Where have you been?”
“I—” Apollo’s voice breaks off in his throat as a sudden wave of nausea rushes through him. He’s going to have to explain to Percy how far he’s fallen, shattering whatever ideals may exist himself.
“It’s a bit of a long story,” Apollo manages, though he can feel that his face belies his dismay.
He can feel a pair of eyes bore into his back, annoyed at having been forgotten, so Apollo gestures behind him to introduce the street urchin he picked off the street. “This is Meg. You don’t need to pay her mind; she’s a demigod I found.”
“A demigod who saved your ass,” Meg corrects Apollo while he sputters in indignation—his ass has never needed saving—before she addresses Percy. “Hi. I hear you have food.”
“Oh, hello.” Percy blinks, as if only noticing her presence for the first time. He tries to give a friendly smile, though Apollo can see the concern underneath it. “Saved, huh? Why don’t you two come inside first? We do have food, and I’m sure there’s… a lot that I need to be filled in on.”
And with open arms, Percy, ever the kind-hearted hero, beckons a beaten-up, ugly, ex-god and feral, unmannered half-blood to take refuge in his family home. Apollo cherishes what are likely to be his last moments receiving goodwill from Percy as he steps inside.
Even as the god of poetry, Apollo always struggled with trying to encapsulate how exceedingly incredible Perseus Jackson is in mere words, and with his muddled mortal brain, Apollo knows that it’d be in vain to try.
When—if—Apollo regains his divinity, perhaps he will try his hand at it again. Maybe a haiku will be appropriate—they’re short and concise, simple and restrained, a nice fit for Percy. Or, Apollo could write a song, or maybe even a musical, about him.
Yet, deep down, Apollo knows that nothing could ever hope to encapture the true essence of Perseus. Assuming that Apollo lives for a long time, he knows that this boy will haunt him for ages, will become his muse for centuries, will follow him in myths for millennia.
For now though, Apollo and this silly little mortal brain which he’s equipped with, are satisfied with being mesmerized.
Percy, likely due to his mother’s upbringing, is nothing but a hospitable host. He guides Apollo to the bathroom attached to his bedroom and leaves him alone to shower off the dumpster gunk.
Apollo’s a little bit more used to having some company when he bathes, but he’ll take what he can get. It’s definitely too much to expect some assistance, no matter how long it’s been since they last saw each other.
While Percy hadn’t made any faces to indicate that he even noticed how badly Apollo reeks—which must have taken a large effort that greatly Apollo appreciates it—Apollo still takes a steaming hot shower, scrubbing at Lester’s pale freckled skin till it’s red and raw.
Now that he’s gotten to see all that Lester has to offer, Apollo can’t say he’s gained any confidence. He’d been hoping that perhaps Lester was hiding some miracles under his hoodie—Apollo was personally wishing for some killer biceps at the minimum—but alas, all he can find is soft, squishy flab.
(Truly, Zeus has taken away everything which Apollo stands for.)
Stepping out of the shower, Apollo is relieved to see that the mirror has fogged up. He’d been too desperate to wash off the gunk to assess Lester before bathing, and he’s glad that he’s not forced to look Lester in the eyes now.
Thankfully, Percy—Apollo was a little busy staring at the shower wall to pay attention, but it was probably him—left a towel and some garments on the sink counter.
They’re Percy’s old clothes, which fit Apollo distressingly well, something that Apollo tries not to pay mind to while he pulls them on.
Percy’s bedroom is connected to the bathroom, where he sits, waiting on the edge of his bed. Apollo joins him, while Percy does his best to try and fix Lester’s—it is not Apollo’s, and he will not call it such—face. His nose is definitely broken, and based on feeling alone, Apollo wouldn’t be surprised to see some accompanying bruises scattered on Lester’s face.
Thankfully, as Percy gently presses a cold pack against his skin, Apollo can already feel that his wounds are mending at a rate faster than a typical mortal's. It’s worrying that Apollo can sustain wounds at all, but it’s nice to see that his father pitied him enough to boost his healing rate.
It’s with reverence that Percy tends to him, and Apollo hesitates to break the moment. Percy, too, doesn’t ask why Apollo’s bruised and battered, nor why his blood had stained his floors red. Even when Apollo closes his eyes, he can feel the utter care, the caution not to accidentally worsen his pain.
“You know,” Percy’s voice breaks the silence, but it’s a low murmur that Apollo almost doesn’t catch. “For a little while there, I was worried that I scared you off.”
Percy says it casually, intentionally avoiding eye contact when Apollo looks at him, but its obvious the way he carefully maintains a neutral face.
“What?” is all Apollo’s able to ask, ineloquent in his confusion. While the words register, the concept of being scared off by the Percy Jackson is so completely inconceivable. Apollo’s the one who should be—and is—worried. What would Percy have to worry about?
“Well, only a little bit.” Percy chews on the inside of his cheek, clearly holding back. Still, his hands are gentle on Apollo’s face, holding him in place, and Percy looks at Apollo as if trying to catalogue every detail, which is ridiculous, considering there’s no way anyone would try to remember the face of Lester Papadopoulos.
“I just—I knew there was probably something going on with Zeus poof-ing you back in Rome,” Percy continues. “But still, I didn’t really know what had happened, you know? I tried asking my dad and Hermes and Artemis about you, but no one was saying anything, so I couldn’t help but think maybe you didn’t want to see me anymore—”
“There’s no world in which I’d be crazy enough to ever leave you,” Apollo says firmly, and Percy smiles, but it’s a little bitter, almost as if he can’t fully believe his words, and Apollo can’t fathom why not. “I can’t think of a single thing that you could do to chase me off,” Apollo reiterates, hoping to dispel whatever doubts Percy might have.
“The ghosting after our first kiss in public had me a little bit nervous, I’ll admit.” Percy smiles as if he’s poking fun at himself for feeling insecure, but Apollo feels his heart drop to his stomach. “And… also, there was this… thing—”
“Wait, wait, I should’ve said this first,” Apollo interrupts, “Percy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to disappear on you like that, and—no, of course, I wasn’t avoiding you, and it had nothing to do with that kiss, it’s just—”
Apollo breaks off, but forces himself to take a deep breath and push his next words out. “I’d never, ever just disappear on you like that, Perseus. My father… he had me out of commission so to say, and he took—I’m… I’mnotagodanymore.”
It comes out in a jumble, but Apollo immediately checks Percy’s reaction, though he’s prepared to see the same horror and disgust Apollo had initially felt discovering his mortal state.
“Yep,” Apollo’s rambling now in the time he has left, voice high with insecurity and the creeping of panic, before the revelation fully processes in Percy’s head. He’s probably only got a matter of minutes before he’s kicked to the curb. “Guess you’ll be the one ghosting me now, huh?”
“What do you mean not a god? Is that… something you can just… turn off?” Percy asks hesitantly, sounding unsure, and Apollo can see the tension rising in his body.
Apollo typically doesn’t like bringing up his past to his current lovers—he very much prefers turn a blind eye to whatever mistakes he may have made—but for Percy, Apollo is willing to trudge through his memories and give a brief recount of his previous experiences with mortality, watching whatever confusion Percy has melt into something more like anger.
“...and now, here I am: Lester Papadopoulos, servant to an unruly traffic-colored street gremlin, and current favorite punching bag of the King of the Gods,” Apollo finished lamely. “I’m sure Hephaestus will soon have a television series following me if you want to tune in…”
“Wait, hold up. Zeus is mad at you because of Octavian? I thought he was pissed because of—He’s blaming you for the Giant War? That’s so… bullshit. It’s all of your guys’s faults, he’s just singling you out and—”
Percy bites his own tongue, which is probably smart, considering that Apollo would get smited if he said anything more. At least he gets to enjoy the eye candy in front of him: Percy’s eyebrows are furrowed, and he’s got that stormy look in his eyes as anger rolls off him.
(Maybe those with fear for their safety would be more worried, but Apollo’s used to being invulnerable and not having to worry about danger, and he’s got such a thing for conflicted, troubled heroes. It’s like a reward for putting up with the day’s humiliations.)
“Are you sure it’s not because of—I don’t mean to sound selfish or anything, but Zeus and I haven’t seen eye-to-eye, like, ever… Do you think he’s targeting you because of, y’know, me?”
“Baby,” Apollo’s voice is soft, but the pet name is a slip of the tongue. After all, who would want to be called that by Lester? Yet, Percy still flushes lightly, always flustered by the smallest things. “If Zeus turned anyone who kissed you into a mortal, then he’d have to deal with another revolt. No one on Olympus would ever allow such a tyrant. You don’t need to overthink and blame yourself, okay?”
Before Percy can argue, Apollo quickly continues before any rebuttals can be said. “Trust me, sweetheart,”—and Apollo’s already slipped up once, so what’s a few more times?—“My father didn’t need any more reasons to punish me. He was already peeved about the Oracle and Python, and he was just itching for a chance to humble me.”
“More like he was itching to find someone to do his dirty work,” Percy mutters, but he doesn’t look as upset with himself (or Apollo) anymore, so Apollo will count it as a win.
Percy sighs, and though weary, looks at Apollo with determination burning in his eyes. Apollo’s so momentarily entranced that he doesn’t catch what Percy’s saying: “What?”
Or, Apollo tells himself that he must not have understood, because there’s no way—
“What quests do we have to do before Zeus gives back your divinity?” Percy asks once more. “I’ve got a few choice words for him, and I’d prefer that you’re immortal when I do, just in case he tries to kill you afterwards.”
“That’s very sweet, Perseus, but knowing my father, he’ll just find a way to kill both of us, immortal or not. Also, pause. What do you mean ‘quests we have’?”
Arching a brow, Percy frowns at him. “Well, I’m coming with you, obviously, right?”
“Nope, not obvious at all.”
“I mean, it’s not something to brag about, but we all know I’m basically the gods’ go-to quest-doer, right?” Percy nudges Apollo lightly with his elbow. “And… I guess, I wouldn’t mind that much if it meant helping you.”
“That’s…” Apollo gets a little choked up, but he tries to swallow it down, even if his voice still cracks when it comes out. “Thank you sweetheart, but I can’t ask that of you… You’ve still got school, and aren’t you set to graduate this year? I can’t ask you to mess up even more of your normal life for me.”
“I mean, my life’s pretty messed up already, and I’m already used to it—”
“Nope, no way, you’re not messing up your senior year for me, okay? And besides! The past two times this happened, I didn’t really have any quests; I just did some manual labor, and what’s the worst Meg could do? Steal my lunch money? All I have to do is look miserable enough, and my father will see I’ve learned my lesson and let me come home.”
Apollo’s glad to see that his skills in acting aren’t solely derived from his divine powers. It’s only thanks to those theater camps he used to occasionally visit that Apollo manages to hide the waver of uncertainty from his voice.
Because… for all his false bravado, Apollo’s not actually sure that his father’s taking him back this time. Zeus has never been one for second chances, and here Apollo is, stuck as a mortal, for the third time.
And though he can see Percy eyeing him, likely able to pick up on some of Apollo’s anxiousness, Apollo refuses to budge on this matter. He’s not letting Percy join him in whatever nonsense he finds himself entangled in with Meg.
It’s stubborn, and it’s foolish, and maybe it would be helpful to have the two-time Savior of Olympus’s protection, but Apollo just can’t, simply because he is sentimental to a fault.
Percy’s probably forgotten by now, but Apollo still remembers before, way before Percy even tolerated his many visits and attempts at wooing, Percy had one rule: Don’t drag him into any more quests.
Apollo back then had easily acquiesced, since he had his own children to send on errands. Apollo intended to cherish Percy, rather than use him as a busy-boy. In fact, he had considered sending demigods on quests to fetch gifts for Percy.
And now, Apollo has nothing to offer but his determination to keep his promise.
Percy probably wouldn’t even want that, would think that Apollo’s being ridiculous, but still.
In this state, Apollo has nothing to give. Nothing. No powers, no good looks, not even the confidence that he’ll survive till the next day. Apollo won’t let his promises also become meaningless.
Apollo does his best to ignore the baby seal eyes that Percy is sending his way. He can feel the dissatisfaction he’s radiating, but Percy seems to be slowly acquiescing. (Apollo hopes that Percy accepts it, considering the boy’s track record of sneaking onto quests.)
Apollo watches the way Percy bites his own lips as if torn and overwhelmed by guilt. Part of Apollo is charmed by how Percy is so clearly unable to turn his back on a person in need, but a larger part of his is learning just how dangerous a hormonal teenaged mortal is.
It’s been a long time since they last had any alone time…Apollo wants to overwhelm Percy with something else, but—! He reigns his own selfish desires in, just like any self-aware person would because, once again, Lester.
Apollo’s thankful that Percy’s too lost in thought to notice what must be a very scary expression on Lester’s face.
“...I still want to help you somehow,” Percy tries. Apollo is (unfortunately) only human at this moment, and can’t resist pressing a chaste(!!) kiss against Percy’s lips. It’s Percy’s punishment for making Apollo’s heart waver, when he’s already trying so hard to be strong and fight the urge to beg Percy to come with him.
“How about this: You can lend me a hand and give me and Meg a ride to Camp Half-Blood today?
Percy begins to protest—“Today? At least stay the night. There’s no need to be in such a rush, right?”—but Apollo holds strong.
“I don’t want to impose on your mother too long, and I have some things I need to do at camp. Gotta check in on Chiron and my kids, y’know?”
Apollo can tell from the look on Percy’s face that he’s still unconvinced, but Apollo fears that if he spends any more time with Percy and remembers just how wonderful his presence is, he’ll renege on his previous words. “You’re got your official driver’s license now, right? Why don’t you show me if all of my hours spent mentoring have paid off?”
Like everything else he does, Percy’s driving is distinctly his own—or more specifically, distinctly New York. Whatever Apollo had “taught” during those few nights he’d taken Percy driving in dark, empty parking lots seem completely elementary compared to the jam-packed roads trying to get out of Manhattan.
One of the many perks of driving the sun chariot is the absence of traffic and lane merging, which Apollo is suddenly grateful for after giving his new body at least two near-heart attacks while watching Percy drive.
Though Apollo may have instinctively slammed his foot on an imaginary break a few times, he’s rather impressed that Percy manages not to hit anyone or get hit by the time they’re on the highway.
And, all the while, Percy still has some attention to spare on making conversation, chatting with Meg, even if Apollo wishes that he’d focus on the road some more.
(It seems that being a scaredy cat is a part of his new mortal identity, considering that Apollo’s had much more fun on the roads in his past… But such are the constraints of being able to actually die from a car crash.)
When Apollo tunes in, Meg seems to be interrogating Percy about their relationship. “But… why would you like him?” she asks, and Apollo makes an offended noise.
“Hey! I may not have had the chance to showcase my many charms, but I had them once! Lester’s kind of average, I’ll admit, but I was the pinnacle of male beauty back in the day! I was handsome, I could sing, and I practiced medicine!” Amidst Apollo listing off his resume, which could impress even the strictest parents, he catches a glimpse of Meg’s judgemental look in the rear-view mirror.
“I don’t see it,” she says. “Why’d you want him now? He’s not hot anymore—if he ever even was—he’s a blabbermouth, doesn’t know what he’s doing, and he makes you drive him places.”
Dear gods, Apollo realizes. I’m a textbook scrub.
“I don’t mind it,” Percy replies, and Apollo wishes that there was more of a defense, but he admits that Meg was pretty spot-on with her criticisms.
“You’re not even mad that you have to waste your evening playing driver?” she asks, far too much disbelief bleeding into her voice.
Percy laughs a little at that. “Nah, I’ve been cramming for my SATs, so the drive’s actually a pretty nice break. I’ve been wanting to stop by Camp Half-Blood anyways, and now’s actually a pretty good time.”
“It’s the middle of the week though.”
“Well…” Apollo can see Percy wondering if he should elaborate or not. “I heard that someone who I’m kinda avoiding is out of town right now, so I don’t have to worry about running into them.”
Apollo perks up at the sliver of gossip. He’s been absent from Olympus for the past year, hiding on Delos , so he’s probably completely behind on all of the news. “Who are you avoiding?”
“...Annabeth.” Percy’s eyes stay focused on the road, but his face has that stony, hurt quality again.
“Who’s Annabeth?” Meg asks, but she’s picking at her nose in the back, and Apollo concludes that she’s uninterested by the shift in conversation.
Apollo’s definitely interested though. It seems that nosiness is a part of his actual personality rather than a side-effect of being a god. “Why?” he presses, unable to ignore his fondness for a messy spectacle. There’s a vague memory in the back of Apollo’s mind of hearing that they were fighting, but it’s unusual for the two of them to go so long without patching things up.
“She’s an… acquaintance," Percy tells Meg.
So it’s friendship-ending level bad. How fun.
“Another demigod, like us,” Percy continues after a pause. “I... just don’t really want to see her right now.”
He lowers his voice so that only Apollo can hear, which probably isn’t even necessary considering that Meg’s still fishing in her nostrils. “I’m not going to burden you with everything, considering you’ve already got a lot going on right now, but… I’ll tell you about it after you’ve regained your immortality, okay?”
“Percy. You can’t do this to me. You know I hate cliff hangers. And I could be stuck mortal for the next ten years! You can tell me, I can handle it,” Apollo pleads, but Percy only gives him a weak smile, at least somewhat amused by his antics.
“You better ascend quickly then. I don’t really want to wait ten years either. Or…” His eyes flicker over to Apollo, and his grin gains strength as Apollo recognizes the mischief in his eyes. “If you let me accompany you, then maybe I’d be more willing—”
“Ten years it is.”
Under his breath, Percy mutters, “I can’t believe you’re making me barter and beg to join a quest.”
“There’s no quest,” Apollo reminds, hoping that he isn’t giving the Fates any ideas. He does not want to go on a quest with Meg. What would they have to do? Vanquish all of the petty criminals on the streets of New York using garbage? Wash the mouth of every little gremlin and teach them basic manners?
No thanks, the mere thought alone is filling Apollo with dread.
He focuses on the topic that interests him much more: Percy and Annabeth’s apparent argument.
It’s not completely unusual for them to have their spats here and there, but it’s weird for it to have gone on for so long.
Still, Apollo’s not particularly bothered by it. He’d never been a big fan of Annabeth, especially considering how obvious her crush on Percy was. If one competitor for Percy’s heart—not that she was actual competition with him in the mix—is out of the way, then that’s all the better for Apollo.
Maybe, after he sends Percy back home to his apartment and homework, Apollo secretly can ask Chiron or Dionysus if they know anything. He doesn’t have the patience to wait till he’s a god—if he’ll even survive long enough to become one.
And, considering how he, Meg, and Percy are attacked by monsters before they even reach Camp Half-Blood, Apollo is beginning to have some serious doubts towards his prospects.
Things end up fine, of course. A couple of plague spirits have nothing against the Percy Jackson, and even Meg ends up being a little helpful. It’s nice to know that his new master will be able to protect him against malicious illnesses alongside street thugs.
Percy’s the only one who ends up scathed, having contracted what seems like a nasty head-cold, and the winter weather will likely only worsen his condition,
“Thank you for the ride,” Apollo says, trying to send him home quickly. “And thank you for hosing me down with water. You should really go home and rest now, okay? Don’t worry about me, and just focus on studying.”
“What a warm send-off: Thanks for the ride, now go and choke on your homework,” Percy sniffles. (The sniffles are from his stuffed nose, Apollo would like to clarify. He would never make Percy cry.) “It’s not too late… you could always come back home with me…”
And Zeus, doesn’t Apollo want to. It pains Apollo more than it pains Percy to send him home, all sniffly and cute… After all, as the god of healing, he’s always had this domestic fantasy of playing bedside nurse while taking care of a sick Percy…
No! Stay strong against the kitten sneezes! Don’t give in! Apollo has to remind himself. This is for Percy’s sake, just as much as it’s for his own. There may not be any prophecies right now, but Apollo needs to get Percy off the scene before the Fates take interest in his presence and decide to tie him into whatever disaster Apollo can feel approaching.
“Your SATs are really important, even if you’re planning on going to NRU…” Apollo tries, even if he can feel himself wavering.
“I’d be able to study so much better with you as my tutor…” Percy pouts, and no! Apollo can feel his resolve crumbling! How did Percy know about his other secret fantasy? (Admittedly, Apollo has a lot—too many by some standards—but that's just the natural side effect of hanging around the Percy Jackson.)
Still, under his breath, Apollo complains about Meg having gained his servitude first. He’d have loved to be under Percy’s command.
“Sucks to suck.” Meg apparently has sharper ears than Apollo anticipated. “So are you going back home with your boyfriend or can I see the camp yet?”
Sighing, Apollo says his final goodbyes to Percy, even as he has to try his best not to cry. (It’s been a rough couple of hours.)
“He’s kinda out of your league,” Meg informs Apollo once Percy’s out of earshot. “Also, he’s nice. How long do you think that he’s gonna stay with you?”
“I hope you're not getting any ideas,” Apollo tells her. “You’re most certainly too young for him. And he likes blonds.”
“Well, it's not like you're blond either,” she points out
Still, as Apollo watches Percy try his best to talk his way out of a ticket with some police officers, he tries (and fails) to not let Meg's question linger in the back of his mind.