Work Text:
Percy?
Percy!
Percy, why did you leave me?
His sword was swinging, arms getting heavier and heavier, sticky blood staining his sides, eye twitching, heat scalding across his skin. Knife twisting into his stomach, chills racking his blood. He couldn’t stop. Both wouldn’t and couldn’t. They were feelings, that was all. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. And he wouldn’t stop, even if it was.
He owed it to Annabeth.
Riptide sang through the air as it cut another arai to dust, its screech as it melted bright, angry, victorious?
Then a burning, scratching pain started making its way down his throat, making him gag and keel. This wasn’t just heartburn or acid reflux- it felt like his throat was disintegrating, pain lashing through his body and sending him into paroxysms of pure agony. Riptide clattered out of his hand, landing somewhere near Annabeth, where she was stumbling around.
Alone.
The arai surrounded him, snickering and laughing. His head faded in and out of consciousness, only hearing a few words of what they were saying.
‘-erupt first!’
‘-will combust, all at on-’
They were betting on his death.
Rolling over, he begged, prayed for his vocal cords to work just one last time.
“B-Bob-” It was rough and raspy and too-quiet.
“Please- forgive me-” An outburst of cruel, mocking cackling drowned his desperate coughs out, even as he whispered one last request.
“Please- please- save Annabeth-”
His vision dimmed, and as it did he saw the truth.
The truth of Tartarus. Every torment, every horrible pit and glass mountain was his mind. The rank air was his breath. The monsters, no more than blood cells.
His eyelids drifted closed, and other voices rang from the laughter.
Percy!
Rise, Perseus Jackson, son of the sea god.
Percy, why did you leave me?
And now, Gabe Ugliano, speaking on his ‘delinquent son’, at 9 PM exclusively on CNN.
Run, Percy! Get to the pine tree!
Brace Yourself.
Percy shot straight upright, eyesight blurry, every muscle tense. He was out of bed before he knew it, hand whipping Riptide out from under his pillow and ripping the cap off. It was dark and he was alone and something was entangling his legs and he couldn’t see-
The dim, bronze glow of Riptide revealed his room on the Argo ll, metal walls reflecting the glow of the blade back at him- revealing sweat-soaked hair and wild, feral eyes.
Percy tipped his head back and groaned, his knees giving out. The adrenaline that had surged through his system was ebbing, leaving his bones heavy and him dead-tired.
A burning in his eyes had him grinding the heels of his palms into them, trying to stifle the tears rushing to his eyes. A guttural, broken sob ripped out of his throat before he could stifle it, and he froze. Was it too loud? Would someone come pounding down the hallway, the smell of beer floating around them and fists ready to swing? Would it be a monster? One of his friends? The Percy from years ago and the Percy of now were blending together in a mess, jumbling his thoughts and clouding his nerves.
“Percy?”
Frank was quiet as a mouse whenever he slept.
Mainly because he’d unconsciously shift into a mouse in his sleep. Why, he didn’t know. Maximum hideability? Easy to get away? No one would question a mouse slipping by in the heat of battle.
But…
A noise had woken him up. His nose and ears twitched, the scent of sea and salt stronger. Under that was the rank scent he’d learned to identify as fear and panic, and the noises he heard were pained grunts and gasps- of what? He couldn’t tell, but he could guess.
Nightmares were unsurprisingly, sadly, common on the Argo ll. More than once, he’d woken up to suppressed gasps of fear and pain, but more often than not it’d end in the person in question plodding slowly to the kitchen to make a cup of decaf coffee or hot cocoa. The ship was well stocked with peppermint sticks, marshmallows, all types of whipped creams, and spices (in Leo and Percy’s case (who’d think that Percy liked spicy hot cocoa?)) and different kinds of milk, as well as an electric kettle. They even had that weird ruby cocoa that Piper had tried once and now refused to drink anything else.
But he didn’t think he’d heard this person before. There were three people he never heard having nightmares, and that was Nico, Percy, and Annabeth. Nico could be explained- he slept like the dead. But Percy and Annabeth, he’d been wondering. Did they have experience hiding their nightmares? It wouldn’t surprise him.
And then a muffled, raw sob rang through the ship- loud and tormented. It sounded like it’d been ripped out the person’s throat by a fishhook, and almost instantly Frank was shifting to human and making his way through the ship as quietly as he could.
Because that had undoubtedly, without a doubt, come from Percy’s room.
Padding carefully down the hall, he ignored the inquisitive head popping out of the room next to Percy’s- Piper’s hair mussed and pure concern, mixed with surprise at his appearance, on her face. She whispered to him, obviously trying not to be too loud.
“Frank? Did you hear-”
“Yeah, I did. I’ve got him, Piper.” She nodded dubiously, multicolored eyes flashing in the dim light as she slowly shut her door, careful not to make too much noise. Frank slowly exhaled, blowing his cheeks out, with the puff of air, before rapping quietly on Percy’s door.
“Percy?”
A small gasp- of fear? before Percy was calling out, words muffled, to ‘come in’. The tone of the words almost gave Frank pause. He sounded scared- young.
Ignoring the curl of unease in his stomach at the sound, Frank creaked the door open, peering in.
The son of the sea god was sitting and facing away from the door, shoulders tense and fists clenched tightly at his sides. His breaths rattled in his chest, and Frank felt sympathy rush through him.
“H-hey, Frank, what’s up?” Percy’s voice was deliberately light, but he could hear pain rushing underneath, and a surge of understanding smashed straight through his heart.
His mother had made that sound when she talked to his grandmother about the burning firewood. His mother had sounded like that when she talked about his fath- Mars. He had sounded like that in the days after his mother's death, trying to hide his grief from his grandmother.
Their voices had sounded like that when they were holding back tears with every ounce of might in their bodies.
Frank slowly walked forward, rounding the bed and leaning down a bit to catch Percy's gaze. Percy’s sea-green eyes had a thin veneer of tiredness and exhaustion covering a deeper, more rooted fear. Frank furrowed his eyebrows, before what must have happened flashed to his mind.
Tartarus.
Percy always seemed clingier with Annabeth on select mornings, making sure his body was touching hers in any way possible. On those days, his voice would waver and his posture would slump, revealing the poor sleep he’d had.
And so, Frank prayed he wasn’t making a bad move as he leaned forward and pulled Percy into a tight bear hug.
The teen stiffened under him, and Frank was painfully reminded of that fact.
They were just teenagers.
Then slowly, tentatively, arms circled back around his back and Percy’s face was buried in his chest. Frank just shut his eyes, moving one arm up to gently span his shoulder blades, the other wrapped around his torso.
Frank may seem calm to an outsider, but the truth? His internal dialogue was mainly screaming and praying that he was doing the right thing and being comforting. He was mainly copying whatever Hazel did when she found him out on the deck, dried tearstains tracking down his face and shoulders quivering with tension.
Percy’s frame was wracked with shaking, and Frank bit his lip. He knew what always made him feel better, but would it help Percy?
You know what, everything else has worked so far, so why wouldn’t this?
Rubbing one hand in circles between Percy’s shoulders, he quietly talked.
“You know, it’s okay if you wanna cry.” Percy stiffened again, and he kept talking, trying not to let his frantic nerves seep into his voice.
“Ah- I mean, you shouldn’t have to force yourself to be strong all the time. You don’t have to be.” Percy’s frame shuddered one more time, and then two wet spots appeared on his shoulder. Frank just closed his eyes, ducking his head and rubbing Percy’s back as the teen sobbed, not minding the growing wetness on his shoulders.
Percy needed to cry, and he was honestly honored to be allowed to see this vulnerability. Percy never showed weakness in front of the ship’s inhabitants, preferring instead to bury the majority of his negative emotions behind confidence and corny jokes. That negativity had to find its way out eventually, and he was more than happy to carry Percy through the maelstrom of emotions swirling through him.
And, apparently, out of him too.
Frank felt moisture hitting his cheeks and slowly opened his eyes-
Water whirled through the room, sending splats of water onto the sheets and speckling his face and clothes with tiny wet marks. He could only watch, in the epicenter of this tiny hurricane as he was.
He and Percy were the eye of the hurricane.
Watching the storm, he was yet again reminded of his first impression of Percy, that awe and amazement slowly resurfacing.
This was, truly, the son of the sea god.
He didn’t know how long he held Percy tightly, watching the water in the air slowly start to still. Percy had stopped shuddering as much, the occasional sob wracking his frame, but there was a tension filling the air.
The son of the sea god drew in one final, shuddering breath, and as it ripped out of his throat the water stopped. Percy slumped into Frank’s embrace, leaving Frank to stare in awe at the hundreds of water droplets suspended in mid-air, emphasizing a slight bronzy glow that Frank hadn’t seen earlier. Moonlight streamed through an open window, refracting through the room and setting an eerie, silver glow to the metal walls.
In his arms, Percy slowly lifted his head, eyes bloodshot.
The water in the room splashed to the floor, drenching both Frank and Percy, along with every other surface in the room other than the ceiling. Ignoring the feeling of wet cloth sticking to his skin, he just patted Percy’s back.
“Are you feeling a little better, Perce?” A muffled mumble into his shirt, and then he was completely dry. Blinking a little, he registered Percy drying instantly beneath his arms, even though his breath still shuddered and he gasped. Frank gently maneuvered so he was at Percy’s side, supporting him as they stood together. Percy clasped onto him for support, every facade of the strong, unflappable leader completely stripped away in the dark shadow of nightmares.
They made their way slowly through the ship, Frank silently thanking the rest of the Seven for actually bringing their personal belongings into their respective rooms. He did not need a repeat of the time Jason had woken up the rest of the ship with a clattering of armor and yelp of pure surprise.
Before he knew it, Percy was sitting on one of the cushioned kitchen chairs, and he had reached to click the electric kettle on before pausing.
He… still remembered his mother’s recipe…
Reaching into the fridge for a carton of red-capped whole milk, he pulled a saucepan out and slapped it onto the stove. Turning the heat on medium, he poured about two cups of milk in, before digging in the cupboard and searching for the dark chocolate chips he’d hidden away for situations like this. Pulling a (theoretically) unopened jar of mayonnaise out of the cupboard, he took the top off to reveal baggies of chocolate chips, perfect serving sizes for hot cocoa. Dumping two in, he paused before dumping another bag in. Percy liked his cocoa chocolatey, as much as he loved it spicy. Stirring it slowly as the chocolate melted, he reached into a cupboard for Percy’s blue mug and his own kiddie elephant mug.
...Sue him, the trunk being the handle and the ears fanning out was cool! How couldn’t he get it?
Behind him, Percy croaked out a greeting. Turning, Frank saw Hazel slowly entering the room, arm clasped with Annabeth’s as they slowly made their way to the table.
Blinking, Frank looked back at the saucepan and his stash of chocolate.
Meh, they’d be landing to restock soon anyways.
Hazel stopped walking stock still, staring at the counter.
"Is that mayo?" Frank glanced to where his secret stash was still open, his eyes widening.
"No! No, nonononono! It's chocolate, see?" Hazel hummed, but relaxed a little when he proved it.
Pouring two more cups of milk into the pan, he added two more bags of chocolate chips and turned the heat up a little. Hazel brushed past his side, sending sparks through his system from the point of contact as he furiously reminded himself that no, he did not have a crush on Hazel Levesque. Reaching up and grabbing a brown owl mug, her other hand reached over and squeezed Frank’s lightly before grabbing her mug that Leo had oh-so-helpfully bedazzled with hundreds of tiny specks of ruby and emerald and topaz and diamond. (Not real, just cheap ones from a Dollar Tree they’d passed all the way back in America, and Frank was legitimately surprised he still had those.)
Annabeth and Percy were clasping hands tightly, murmuring to each other as their foreheads pressed together.
“Frank, the milk-!” Hazel’s cry brought his attention back to the stove, and he yelped as he twisted the temperature knob desperately while simultaneously shying away from the bubbling chocolatey liquid in the pan.
Except the flames only flared, and Frank realized in slowly dawning horror that he’d turned the stove up .
Frantically turning the knob the other way, he gasped for breath as the flames finally sputtered down to a tiny blaze.
He and Hazel just stared at the cocoa that had since cooled to a simmer, wide-eyed. Gulping, Hazel turned to him, blinking slowly.
“W-Well, I reckon the cocoa’s done…” Frank laughed, then laughed again, feeling it bubble up in him at the dry way she delivered the sentence. Hazel giggled next to him, obviously finding it just as funny as he had.
She turned and reached into the fridge for the whipped cream, pulling out the chocolate shavings she liked as she did. Still laughing, Frank grabbed a hot pad from the drawer next to the stove, using it to grab the pan off of the stove and carefully pour the cocoa into the four mugs. Hazel flourished the whipped cream and carefully drew beautiful spiraling peaks onto two mugs, before glancing back at the table.
Annabeth looked up and met her eyes, and then Hazel was nodding and making mountains on the other two. Frank just blinked. How did they do that?
Blinking, he looked down. Ripping a spice packet open, he sprinkled it on top of the whipped cream and stuck a plastic spoon in the cup. Carefully grabbing his and Percy’s mugs, he slowly walked over to the table and lowered the mugs onto the surface, slipping Percy’s over to him. He got a thankful hum before Percy was mixing the spicy cream into the chocolate, Annabeth receiving her own mug as Hazel came to the table.
The table was comfortably silent as people sipped their cocoa, the only notable occurrence being a noticeably peppier Percy daring the three of them to taste his cocoa, and Frank and Hazel’s subsequent dashes for bread. Piper came in sometime around 3, sleepily grumbling as she popped the electric kettle on and dumped a packet of ruby cocoa powder into a mug Leo had gotten, with the words ‘Never Underestimate the Power of a Woman Who Has the Cherokee Blood’. Piper had loved it, and only ever drank cocoa out of it. Following her was Jason, who (unsurprisingly) plopped two peach tea bags into a color-changing mug. Leo wasn’t far behind, already bouncing around the busy kitchen table as he popped a packet of instant coffee into his own mug with the cocoa powder.
Frank took a sip of still-warm cocoa and smiled, looking out over the table. Leo was messing with Piper and Jason, and Percy and Annabeth were quietly laughing at the antics. Hazel was laughing and smiling brightly, and the sight brought a warm fuzziness to Frank’s chest.
This was his family.