Rated: T

Trigger Warnings (TW): Child abuse, suggestions of sexual abuse (more of what kind of glasses you wear than anything else, really), language.

Pairings: Canon pairings such as Percy/Annabeth and Hera/Zeus. You know the ones.

Spoilers: Vague mentions of TLO.

Disclaimer: I in no way claim PJO. That honor belongs solely to the wonderful Rick Riordan.

The gods were trying hard to impress.

Percy choked back a helpless laugh. Unforgiving, regal columns towered over Percy and Annabeth's little group, but they didn't provoke the usual intimidation. The throne room was decked out in cheap streamers and party balloons—it was looking similar to a children's birthday party instead of the grand meeting of the gods that he'd expected. Despite the cheesy display, he felt his breathing pick up to an erratic pace.

The last time he'd been here, it'd been during a war.

Annabeth grabbed hold of his right hand. He hid a surprised flinch. She traced familiar words in his palm, fingers leaving his flesh tingling. Seaweed brain. For a moment, Percy felt nothing but warmth.

Then, like the bitter cold, reality sank back. The Goddess of Wisdom watched him with considering eyes. Tasting the anxiety he always did when facing his girlfriend's mother, he forcefully swallowed down his fear, and met her gaze head on. Her grave expression didn't change, but her swirling grey did focus on a different figure. Marie.

Percy fought down the stupid urge to snarl.

But what right did she have to look at Marie in that way? Where was the oh-so-wise goddess when her daughter was abused and humiliated, most likely in her own home? She didn't deserve the right of looking after the demigod now. Athena had lost her chance in Percy's eyes. If she had truly loved her daughter, she should've looked out for her far better than she had.

However, that wasn't his choice. Not this time around.

Percy saw when Marie noticed where her mother's attention rested. He watched her cheeks flush in surprised delight, a insecure smile curling her mouth up into an expression of pleasure. She looked younger in that moment; happier. Percy would never want to take that away from her.

Annabeth was the one who spoke first. "Make sure to be respectful, alright? No shouting. We don't want to upset anyone." A few of the younger children huddled closer together at her words. They peered at the gods with growing discomfort, wise in their fear of them with their fearsome height and well-known, violent tempers. Susan tugged on his pant leg, a pout on her round face, her eyes wide and nervous. Percy squeezed his girlfriend's hand tighter in warning. If either one of them were to scare the demigod children too much, he doubted they'd speak at all. Being faced with actual gods tended to do that.

He decided it was his time to take over instructions. "Don't be afraid: they're huge babies, honestly." He shot the pipsqueaks a silly, if not slightly insincere, grin. "I mean, I'm still in one piece, aren't I?" With a look of alarm, he glanced down at his body, as if checking for missing limbs or gaping wounds. "Yep, 'm all here." Laughter flooded the room. Percy ignored the pointed look of disdain coloring a certain King God's features.

It was best not to worry about the inevitable. And Percy Jackson would always be unreasonably skilled at ticking off any and all immortals.

"So," the son of Poseidon pushed on, cheerful, "remember to say hello; don't ask about their day, though, they'll never shut up. I doubt any of you are interested in the Ares-Aphrodite-Hephaestus love triangle any more than I am. Meaning, not at all." The little Aphrodite boy from earlier scowled at that remark, smoothing out his ruffled purple skirt with an upturned nose. Annabeth ruffled his hair with a grin.

"It's a meet-and-greet," Annabeth cut in as her grin faded. "The most informal you'll ever see the gods. Ask questions, share stories."

As if preparing for what was to come, eleven of the twelve Olympians began to shrink down to human size, while the few minor gods that had followed their children into the throne room began to grin in earnest. Someone cleared their throat, loud and obnoxious. The throne room became silent in mere seconds.

At his godly, tall-as-a-mountain height, Zeus stood from his grand throne and began to speak. "Young demigods," he rumbled, voice loud and mighty, but near gentle in comparison to the other times Percy'd heard him. "You're welcome here today to talk with your family. I hope you rise to the occasion. Plenty of your siblings would kill for this chance."

Oh, you've got to be kidding, Percy thought.

With a puffed out chest and a haughty sniff, Lord Zeus waved his hand in the air, and the so-called "meet-and-greet" began. Percy wondered, a tad bitter and a lot amused, if Zeus would be acting this way if his only daughter were here. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure. But he was positive that Thalia wouldn't have stood for it; his godly butt would've been kicked seven ways to Tartarus by now.

Having not thought of the consequences, Percy laughed. Aloud. For Zeus to hear. Annabeth let out a hiss between clenched teeth; her nails dug shallow dips into his palm. For the first time since he had arrived in the throne room, he felt a different pair of eyes settle on him. Green met green.

Poseidon's face was almost unreadable, but underneath his impassive expression Percy glimpsed a hint of concern.

Percy looked away, face burning. His hands began to shake again; the familiar tremors set his teeth on edge. He shoved his one free hand into his pocket, curling his finger into a tight fist. Annabeth didn't scold him for his behavior, stern expression aside, and he wondered if he'd ever deserve her. All she did was rub circles into his skin with a thumb. Zeus said nothing.

It didn't take long for the demigod children to become ansty. Both of the elder demigods jumped into motion without thought: they'd forgotten to send them on their way. Annabeth, thankfully, spoke for the both of them. "Well, get going! Remember to be polite; if this goes well, this might be able to happen more often."

Percy pasted a mischievous smirk on his face with effort. "We'll stop for ice cream if you get one of them to cry," he said. Annabeth let out a groan. The children cheered and dashed off.

"Seaweed brain, you're going to get one of them incinerated."

"Nah, they'll just tell on me."

Annabeth laughed despite herself, throwing her head back and shaking her head in bewilderment. One piece of golden hair had fallen out of her braid some time during their trip, and it caressed her cheek. Percy thoughtlessly wrapped his finger around the curl, giving it a light tug before tucking it behind her ear. "Think this'll work out okay?" he asked, nervous. He had put on a brave face for the kids, but he was just as terrified as they were. After all, a lot was riding on this meeting. So many things go wrong; everything was so new, so undecided. And then there was Marie...

His girlfriend tilted her head back up to look him in the eye; her startling grey narrowed at him in thought. Her hand unlaced itself from his. For a moment, Percy was left anxious in a way similar to how he felt when around her mother.

"It'll be fine," she answered slowly. Percy let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. She continued before he could thank her, "But are you going to be?"

Percy froze. The hand that had begun to trace her jaw dropped to his side, lifeless.

"What do you mean?" he asked, quiet and careful.

Annabeth sighed. "Don't pretend," she said. Her hands twisted and twined together in a well-practiced pattern. He'd seen her make the gestures many times when frustrated, and it made his breath catch in his throat. He hated to upset her. "You've been on edge ever since your talk with Marie." Suddenly, Percy couldn't speak. Annabeth pushed on.

"I'm not surprised about Marie, Percy. Actually, I was going to take her to see Chiron after this trip, as her head councilor. And you know I'm not blind to your childhood, either." He didn't speak, only stared. Her voice wavered. "Don't shut me out. We don't do that to each other."

That got him talking.

"I'm fine," he said, and a part of him really meant it. He hadn't dealt with Gabe and his poker buddies since he was twelve years-old. It'd been over five years; he should be over it. "A little shaken up, but I'm fine." She leveled him with a look. "I will be fine," he corrected at once.

"Percy," she warned, not angry or sad but worried. Any sort of control he might have held over the situation vanished. His shoulders drooped.

He looked at anything but her as he spoke. A giggling Susan caught his attention as she toddled across the throne room, a hysterical Hermes not far behind. One son of Demeter handed over a flower crown to his proud mother, because despite the blooms having been cut days previous, the flowers still continued to grow. His words were quick and precise as she always was. "It brought up a lot of memories, looking at her. I don't regret talking to her, but now everyone knows."

"I doubt everyone knows, Percy..." Annabeth attempted to comfort her boyfriend.

"Do you see the way they're looking at me? The gods, I mean. They..." Percy swallowed hard. "I wish they'd stop staring." His gaze dropped to his shoes for a brief moment, ashamed.

And, sure enough, the gods were all peeking back at the Hero of Olympus. They'd pause in their activities, awkward and unsure as schoolchildren, and cast nervous glances in the black-haired teen's direction. Their mouths would dip into frowns; their eyes would narrow to slits. Then, without a word, they'd turn back to their children and nieces and nephews and cousins, without even the slightest flinch. Even Hecate, who'd slipped in to continue an earlier conversation with one of her children, had stared at Percy like a new, interesting toy.

Annabeth didn't even hide the angry growl that fought itself past her lips. It slipped through her clenched teeth with a startling vengeance. No one had the right to make her boyfriend uncomfortable: no one except her.

Percy watched her head turn back to him with a whip of a braid. He didn't have time to think before she pressed her lips to his, a single hand tangling in his hair and tilting his chin down.

It was a quick kiss: soft, gentle, chaste. Despite having been dating Annabeth for a while now, he still managed to feel completely embarrassed and ridiculously pleased, all at once. His stomach did back flips and ballerina twirls. She pulled away less than six seconds in, smiling, but her fingers stayed, playing with his dark strands. He felt his face heat up. His ears burned. His girlfriend always knew exactly how to leave him ruffled and at a loss for words.

"What...?" He sounded off-kilter, even to himself. Annabeth wasn't shy about their relationship, but she'd never been particularly fond of PDA.

"Go," she told him sternly. At his look of gap-mouthed shock and muttered "wha?", she continued, "You're not comfortable. Go take a breather. You shouldn't have to suffer just because some bratty gods like to gossip like a bunch of old women." In that moment, his mind hazed with confusion, he thanked Aphrodite for always placing Annabeth by his side in her desperate need to mess with his love life. He'd never complain about the love goddess ever again, if he could help it.

"I... Thanks, wise girl." He got another peck on the lips and a grumbled "seaweed brain" for his efforts before he was shooed off into the direction of the double doors. Biting his lip, he felt several sets of eyes on the back of his head. It was best to ignore them.

He paused and turned, almost possessed by his instincts, intent on catching one last glance of Marie as the ornate doors opened for him. The dark-haired girl was smiling wide at her mother, expression open and oh-so honest, as she babbled on about something he couldn't hear. Percy watched her hesitate, and then, to his astonishment, wave at his father. His mouth dropped open. His father's did the same.

Then Poseidon's gaze cut towards him. The same wave of shame crept up on him from earlier, but this time it was tinged with rage he couldn't swallow. Percy stumbled back, his cheeks going red.

For once, he followed what his body always told him to do when under extreme distress: he turned tail and ran.

Forget monsters and Titans and volcanoes. Right now, the thought of his father seeing him like this made him feel sick. He was supposed to be a hero. He was supposed to be unstoppable. Not reeling from something that happened years ago. Not weak and off-balance and totally unprepared.

Percy had spent his entire life trying to make his father proud. He wouldn't stop now.

He stormed through the temple's courtyard in a daze, his breathing ragged. The only thing on his mind was to find the quietest place here without leaving the temple itself—he needed to be accessible in case of an emergency. Even in his jumbled up mind, he knew this. It wasn't hard, thankfully, to find a quiet place to hide (hiding, that's exactly what he was doing).

No minor gods or mythical creatures roamed the main courtyard; it wouldn't surprise Percy if that was a major rule. A small amount of animals roamed, however, and everything was green and alive. Tiny pavilions were in places they hadn't been before. The demigod son of Poseidon picked the one the most hidden by greenery. It was obviously dedicated to Artemis: he could tell by its brilliant silver color and the way it glowed like moonlight. Constellations were engraved into the very marble, and they seemed to almost dance. It was impressive, but not the most important thing on his mind at the moment.

Percy only hoped the virgin huntress wouldn't get too offended with a boy invading something of hers. He sent a quick prayer and an apology, just in case.

With a shuddering gasp for air, he collapsed on the bench before him. A swift hand moved to shield his eyes. He needed a moment. No. He needed several moments. Tucking his knees to his chest, he sat there desperate and gulping for air.

When he had first decided to handle the situation with Marie, he hadn't even considered the negative consequences it would have on himself. And during the conversation itself, he had found himself coping with the situation in a way he hadn't imagined. Flashbacks aside, it had been almost easy to say what he had. Like he was offering advice instead of his best-kept secret. Detached until the very end. Percy didn't regret his decision, of course not; he couldn't force himself to wish for a do-over. Marie deserved support, and he was glad to have offered it.

But now that adrenaline had faded, and all he wanted to do was scream until exhaustion. Now everyone knew, now the gods wouldn't stop staring, now Poseidon...

Percy wanted to hit something. He'd dealt with his emotions so poorly when confronted with Poseidon's gaze. He couldn't deny the truth to anyone even if he tried. They had all seen his reaction.

"Dammit," he cursed aloud, berating his thoughtless actions, not for the first time in his short life. "Good one, Jackson." His arms wound tightly around his legs, and with a soft thump his forehead met his knees. Despite his best efforts to calm himself with forced, even breaths, he still felt the beginnings of a monster of a headache.

The son of the sea-god wasn't sure how long he stayed there undisturbed, curled up like a little kid. Seconds, minutes, hours. His muscles were tightly coiled; his fingers tapped a random beat against the fabric of his jeans. Every once in a while, his body would quake with tension before he could force himself under control. Percy was uncomfortable and more than a little distressed. He wanted to lay down and rest for a long, long time. Forget the gods for a moment or two.

But it wasn't meant to be. Percy heard the creak of a floorboard; there was a whiff of seawater and ocean breeze.

His shoulders rose an involuntary inch, but he didn't move his head up from his knees. For the first time ever, he hoped the noise was from an enraged Amphitrite, finally here to end her cheating husband's last demigod spawn. It was certainly a better alternative than...

"Percy," a male voice said from above him. Dammit!

Almost against his will, Percy rose his head from its cushy resting place. He saw Poseidon's blank expression before anything else. He released his breath in a shaky sigh and said nothing, instead dropping his eyes to study the rest of the god. The last time he had seen him, he hadn't been in the best of shape, still suffering from his underwater war. It was good to see him a healthy thirty-something again, instead of seventy or sickly. He wore no armor, and his trident was leaning up against the doorway of the pavilion like a mere decoration instead of one of the most dangerous weapons of all time. The god's Hawaiian shirt, now up close, could be seen dotted with little dancing fish. It was so out-of-place in the serious atmosphere, he almost laughed. He didn't.

Poseidon spoke first, and Percy was grateful. "That child... Athena's daughter." He felt himself go rigid; his knuckles turned white from gripping his legs too hard. "Is she alright?" his father asked, eyes not leaving him. Percy choked.

"What?" he gasped. His head spun.

"Well, son, word travels quick on Olympus. Everyone knows at this point." Percy felt more sick with every word. Poseidon continued to survey him. "I'm assuming she'll be getting help?" At this, he could only nod stupidly.

"I... Yeah. Yeah, of course," he said. Poseidon gestured, asking if he could sit. Percy croaked out a "sure", feeling so lost and unstable he wanted to sob. His father sat a good space away from him on the bench, but still less than an arm's length away. This time, Percy did not turn his head to meet his gaze.

Poseidon started off slow, with the airs of a man unsure of his position, "I think we have something to discuss." He admitted this in a clumsy fashion, like an awkward child. Percy could relate.

"Do we?" he asked stiffly.

"Yes. When you were talking to that girl..." Percy flinched.

"Her name's Marie."

"Right, Marie. When you were talking with her, you said something that gave me pause."

"Did I?"

Poseidon turned stern; Percy felt something like anger simmer underneath his skin, though he was at a loss as to why. "Yes."

His father's eyes on the side of his head burned, but he clung to his resolve with every ounce of his stubbornness. He wouldn't give himself away this time. And, besides, it's not like Poseidon didn't already know the answer, right? That's what the issue was, wasn't it? Percy felt a bitter grin pull at his mouth. The man was a god. He'd had to have seen Percy throughout the years, even from his palace in the sea. Poseidon would've saw every slap, every slur, everything. Did the sea-god think he was stupid, or something?

Why was he trying to make this more uncomfortable than it already was? Poseidon already knew he was weak.

A ragged hiss of air escaped his clenched teeth: a failed attempt to hide his ever-rising panic. When he managed to summon forth words, his breath stuttered in his chest. "What was it? What'd I say?" Percy wasn't sure why he was dragging it out so agonizingly slow, but he knew all he wanted was for the subject to be dropped. For his father to become too agitated to hold the serious conversation.

Poseidon didn't explode in a wild display of rage, however. He only sighed. "I do not pretend to know the exact details, but the naiads like to gossip. Loudly. And you said you understood the girl's...situation." Percy snorted at the delicate phrasing, but turned to look at the god: he couldn't help himself. The anguish on his father's face was surprising and a tad unexpected. Not once had he ever seen the god less than composed towards him. Now, Poseidon was an open book.

But so was Percy.

The sea-god's next word was a demand staged as a question. "Who?"

Percy jolted. "My stepfather," he blurted out, unnerved by the unexpected power play and unable to rein in his tongue. "The first one, not the one at the Battle of Olympus. Paul's great." His fingers tangled into his hair, and he was babbling out excuses before he could even suck in air. "It was a long time ago; it's fine. I'm over it. Honest."

And then, "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you." Poseidon ogled him, taken aback.

"Pardon?"

"I didn't really think before I spoke. I don't regret what I said to Marie, of course not, but... but I should've considered the nasty position I must've put you in. The minor gods will be talking for weeks, and..." Percy found himself flustered and trembling. "Fuck, who am I kidding? They'll be talking for centuries." He would've continued on, if not for the grip suddenly clasping onto his shoulder with a nearly bone-shattering intensity. Unprepared, he flinched away with a low, frightened growl. The hand jerked back in one quick motion, as if burned.

Poseidon's face was twisted in what might've been self-hatred, but could've just as easily been directed at Percy. He was far too used to gods looking at him that way; it was odd to see anything else. "That's what you believe my concern is?"

Percy didn't speak at that moment, only gave a hesitant nod. Poseidon ran a calloused hand over his weathered face, his expression alone aging him several years. The eyes he had given to his son shut for one tired second before they focused on the demigod in front of him.

"My only demigod son confesses to having been abused by some wretched mortal under his mother's care, and you think my reputation is my biggest concern?" Poseidon's voice was calm but tense, like a rubber band stretched too far.

At the mention of his mother, Percy found himself barring his teeth at his father: a mindless animal protecting kin. "Don't bring Mom into this!" He leaned closer to his father, feral and determined. "She didn't know. I didn't tell her; I hid everything. Gabe promised he wouldn't—!" Percy stopped himself from continuing on at once, but his mind continued the sentence for him. Gabe promised he wouldn't hurt her.

"She didn't know," he repeated. Poseidon studied him with darkening eyes.

"I told her you weren't safe in the mortal world." But the sea-god's argument was weakening. Poseidon, he thought, couldn't stay mad at his mother for long.

"She did the best she could."

Unable to deny this without extreme consequences, Poseidon said nothing else. For a while, neither did Percy. They stared at each other in an increasingly uncomfortable silence, Percy still fueled by the jab at his mother and Poseidon unwilling to drop the subject. He replayed Poseidon's words over and over in his head.

Something clicked.

"You didn't know," he breathed at the realization, nearly doubling over in shock. Poseidon only showed confusion at his remark. "About Smelly Gabe. You really didn't know." He stared at his dad in a bewildered blaze of amusement. A hysterical laugh escaped his lips. He hadn't known, he hadn't known...

"No," Poseidon agreed, looking pained. "I could not view you in your home; I was afraid one of the other gods would look into my activities and discover you and your mother. I could only catch glimpses through spies or whenever you were near the sea." Immediately, Percy remembered the cyclops watching him play during recess at primary school. He recalled the pretty ladies giggling and smiling underneath the water's surface at Montauk when he was four-years old.

Percy felt gutted. "I thought you knew," he choked. The relief of admitting what had been on his mind for so long was staggering. Poseidon's eyes widened. "I just—I figured you..." He took a shuddering gulp for air and raked a hand through his wild hair with shaky fingers. Percy saw Poseidon zero in on small, circular scars running along his arms, the burns the size of a mark easily hidden by a bandaid. Eyes darted to the mottled mesh of raised flesh near his elbow from broken beer bottles. Usually people dismissed the old scars as another half-blood quarrel. But Poseidon knew better. It spurred the god into action.

The teen found himself tugged forward into a hug.

His breath left in a whoosh. It was different from the one he'd received after the Battle of Olympus. That had been brought on by relief and pride. It had been crushing, forceful, and, while nice, nothing like the embraces he'd been given by his mom or even Paul. That hug had not been one of comfort.

This time around was a shock. The hug was gentle; he was cradled like fragile glass. His face was buried into his father's chest, the top of his head barely brushing the god's bearded chin, and a hand had wound around his back to rub between his shoulder blades. He stayed rigid as a board, taut as a bowstring.

"Let go," he tried to say, but his words were nothing more than a garble of rasping gasps and confused fear. Percy began to tug away from the God's hold. This was all wrong, he thought wildly. He didn't need this. This didn't prove he was strong, or that he was a hero. Percy was a disappointment, a fucking wrongdoing. He was supposed to prove Poseidon wrong. "Please," Percy begged, his hand pushing weakly at his father's chest. The grip tightened, held him still, and Percy could only whine low in his throat like an abused dog.

"Son," Poseidon addressed, sounding very old and sad. Sad because of him. The man said nothing more. In that moment, Percy wanted to apologize; he wanted to insist that he wasn't a little kid anymore and that the sea-god shouldn't bother himself with the past. He didn't need to be soothed like he was eight years-old all over again.

Apparently some part of him didn't agree, because something snapped, and suddenly he heard himself babbling, sobbing: an incorrigible, bawling toddler.

"I, he... He said it was our guy secret. I was six and he hit Mom, and she thought I didn't know, but I saw it. He hit her, and I couldn't let him do that, so I... I made him promise! He wasn't supposed to hurt her anymore. And I swore I'd never tell."

He couldn't stop the words, strangled as they were, from escaping his lips. Poseidon had to understand. "I used to wait. For you. I thought you'd come back, and you'd keep Mom safe, and you'd let her quit her job at the candy store, and she'd get to write stories. And maybe, maybe you'd love us and kick out stupid, smelly Gabe and his stupid, smelly poker buddies." Poseidon sucked in a breath.

"But you never did, and I thought..."

"I thought you didn't care about me or Mom; I started to think that maybe I deserved it, that that's what you would've wanted, and I-I-I..." He felt the grip on him tighten protectively; Percy melted into the embrace. "I'm so sorry," he gasped. He wanted to stop crying, but found that he couldn't. "I'm sorry I'm not the hero you wanted, Dad, I'm sorry I wasn't s-strong enough." The demigod was nearly incoherent at that point, only able to stutter out hysterical apologies. His father needed to know that he was sorry for not fighting Gabe harder, for not being able to stand up to his leery poker buddies. That he was sorry he was naive enough to take Gabe's promise to heart, sorry that he had gotten his mom hurt in his foolishness.

"Oh, son." Promises were mumbled into his hair, quieting his cries but not his mortification. Everything the god said was whispered in Greek, with the sort of careful planning that didn't fit in with the man's supposed reckless nature. You did nothing to deserve that, he thought he might have heard. It's alright. I'm sorry. It's not your fault: it is mine. A hand curled around the base of his neck: solid, real. You are strong enough. Stronger than I would have ever suspected. I am so proud of you. A flood of words that left him boneless. You'll never have to go through that again.

It took a long while to calm down. He shook, he sobbed, he whimpered. He fisted the back of his father's Hawaiian shirt until he was sure it would leave behind permanent wrinkles. A murmur floated in the air, nothing but a soft hum. An oath, a blessing. Something pleasantly warm tingled over his skin, and the taste of nectar coated his tongue. It lulled him into security, nice and slow. He relaxed until he lazed comfortably in his father's arms, completely spent and more than a tad embarrassed. A kiss was pressed into his dark hair.

When he finally looked up after several deep inhales and exhales, the sea-god's cheeks were wet with tears. Percy didn't know what to do, his face warm and his mind rattled, but he tried his best. "Guess the kids're getting ice-cream," he said.

Poseidon laughed.

Happy Veteran's Day!

Sorry this is so late, but here's the final part of this two-shot. I hope it didn't disappoint: it's over double the previous chapter! (Chapter One of this fic has been edited, by the way. There's some addition stuff thrown in there, such as a better-explained description of Olympus.) Also, I have a MoaDM update for anyone following that multi-chapter fic. I have the outline for the next chapter ready, but have been unable to write it. Hopefully, I can start working on it either today or sometime this weekend, depending on my time-management skills. I don't want to set up a definite time of release, but maybe in the next two weeks or so? Maybe? And hey, if you haven't read Monsters of a Different Mold yet, you totally should! If you liked this mini fic, it'll be a dream!

Thanks for reading!