I said that this was over. I lied.

A friend of mine who's been feeling poorly wanted me to do one with the HoO characters. It's been a while since I read the books, but here goes. In the beginning, he's been missing exactly 10 months.

Also, check out my tumblr at iheartbds. tumblr .com without the spaces!

*I'm going to warn you; this isn't like my other Dinner Conversations chapters. It's not humorous like the others are, so if that's what you're expecting, don't be surprised.*

The worst part about having Percy for a stepson wasn't the awkward conversations. It wasn't the occasional monster attacks, the strange friends, or having to make up stories at the ER every time he needed stitches. It wasn't even not knowing where he was or if he was okay when he went missing. It was having to watch Sally worry every time he was gone.

Some days, Paul worried about Percy. He knew the dangers of being a demigod. He knew that at that moment, Percy could be fighting for his life. He could be bleeding to death in an alleyway somewhere. It was likely that he was already dead.

Some days, he believed in him. He believed that at any moment, he would walk through their door, shaggy hair hanging in his face, alive, whole, and healthy. After all, he did have the curse of Achilles.

Most days, Paul hated him.

Paul sighed and rolled over in bed, smacking his alarm clock in annoyance. He frowned at the date; October 15th. Exhaling softly, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and made his way out of the room into the kitchen, following the smell of freshly brewing coffee.

Sally stood in the middle of the kitchen facing towards the door, gazing into space. A halo of brown hair framed her tired blue eyes, once full of life but now worn and haggard. She clutched the handle of her coffee mug close to her face, knees tucked to her chest. She was still wearing the frayed old nightgown that matched the color of her eyes, and the Finding Nemo slippers that Percy had given her for her birthday.

It broke Paul's heart to see her like this. She went through the motions of each day with a smile that never faltered, an act which convinced those around her, but he could see how empty that smile really was. He approached quietly, standing behind her to massage her shoulders. She jumped at his touch before looking up at him faintly.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, as if he didn't know what she had done all night. As if she didn't know he knew.

"Of course," she replied, keeping up the illusion. He reached around to take the coffee cup out of her hand, dumping the now icy beverage down the sink.

"Blue waffles?" Paul asked, already grabbing the waffle iron and blue food dye. Of course it would be blue waffles, on days like these it was always blue waffles. Still, he asked the question, if only to keep the illusion. "I'll make them, or you'll be late."

"Thank you," she whispered. He nodded, pouring just enough blue dye to color the food without wasting any. He kept himself engaged in his work, and he did not see Sally's wistful look towards the door. He did not see the pained look she allowed to spread across her face before quickly throwing back up the smile. He did not.

Paul watched Sally's retreating form make her way towards their room to change into work clothes, decidedly not glancing at the firmly shut door she passed. She continued to work for Sweet on America, as she had stopped writing her novel a while back, though sometimes she would bring it up on her laptop and stare at it for a while, gazing at the dedication. For my son, Percy Jackson, who I love more than anything else in this world. Paul pretended not to remember exactly what day it was she had stopped. He hated seeing her have to work in such a low wage job with its terrible hours, but she insisted on doing something. Besides, a teacher's salary can only go so far, and living expenses in New York were not cheap.

By the time Sally returned, the waffles had all been cooked and were sitting in a neat stack. The both sat in silence, eating waffles and drinking coffee until only one remained. Sally smiled lightly at him, kissing him on the cheek before gathering up her things and moving to head out the door. She paused in the door frame, casting a look at the remaining waffle and the empty plate on the table that hadn't been used in months. She quickly turned away and ran down the hallway, slamming the door behind her. Paul watched the door slam before slowly sinking down the wall, his head in his hands, shaking.

It was several moments before Paul could compose himself enough to get up again, but when he did, his mask was fully in place. The illusion would not be broken. Paul gathered the dishes together, dropping them into the sink before carefully cleaning out each one. He placed the waffle ingredients back where they belonged. Paul went through the motions, because that was what he needed to do, what he had to do to remain sane.

Finally, he turned his attention to the kitchen table. His gaze settled on the blue plate and cup there, patiently waiting for someone to use them. He saw the chair where dust was gathering, one that hadn't been sat in in months. He saw the last blue waffle, so similar to its predecessors. It, too, was waiting.

Paul stared for a while, before picking the waffle up and dumping it into the trash.

Some days, Paul loved Percy with all of his heart.

This was not one of them.

...

The sudden knock on the door surprised Paul. Sally wasn't due home until later that night, and she would have had her key. Annabeth had stopped visiting since she had left for Camp Jupiter, and Chiron rarely made visits to their house in person. Thinking it would only be some sales person, he went to answer the door with a sigh. Lecture on how important reading the "No Soliciting" signs posted around the building was at the ready, Paul cracked the door. But before he could get a word out, the door was swung all the way open, banging against the wall, and several figures barged into the room.

"What-" Paul asked bewildered. Who were these people? Didn't they know banging a door against the wall left holes in the plaster? He angrily stormed behind them, ready to voice these thoughts, when suddenly one of them turned around and he finally looked.

The scene was disturbingly similar to those he had witnessed in the days leading to the Titan War when their apartment became an impromptu hospital for wounded demigods. A muscular teen was lying on the couch, eyes closed in pain and blood from a deep gash on his side dripping on the floor while a golden eyed girl held his hand, whispering encouraging words. In the corner, a short Latino boy fidgeted, his fingers alight with tiny flames. A golden-haired boy with and air of power Paul usually associated with his stepson supported a beautiful girl with constantly changing eyes. A blonde girl he recognized as Annabeth came running into the room, carrying the special first aid kit that Sally refused to throw away, even after all of these months.

But what really floored Paul were the sea green eyes gazing back at him, framed beneath shaggy black hair, considerably longer than Paul remembered. He had changed; his eyes, bloodshot and tired, were colder than they had been, with an almost predatory look to his gaze. The orange Camp Half-Blood shirt he wore hung loosely off his frame, as if he had lost 20 pound he couldn't afford to lose. Bruises and scrapes littered his body, which struck Paul as odd considering his practical invulnerability. But it was still his step son.

It was still Percy.

Paul couldn't speak as their eyes connected, Percy holding him paralyzed in his gaze. A few seconds passed, until one of the demigods in the room frantically called his name, and Percy turned to assist in treating his friends.

Paul watched the scene unfold, as half-bloods danced wildly about the room, throwing bandages, nectar, and ambrosia where people needed them. It was chaos, but in the heart of it all was Percy, keeping things as organized and efficient as possible. Finally, it seemed Percy had patched everyone up as best they could be, and none were in imminent danger of bleeding out. The boy on the couch had passed out, the girl still holding his hand, relief that he would be okay obvious on her face. The rest looked anxiously from their places around the room as Percy turned to face him.

"Paul," he started nervously, coughing and running a hand through his knotted hair. "Um. This is Jason," he said, pointing to the golden leadership boy, "and Frank and Hazel," he added, his finger now pointing to the two on the couch. "They're Romans. And then this is Piper and Leo," he went on, pointing to each in turn. "They're Greeks, but you don't know them. But from what I heard they went with Jason, and I was in Alaska with Hazel and Frank, but then we had to get back together on the Argo, and-" he babbled, until Annabeth stepped forward and touched him lightly on the arm, stopping him. Paul didn't miss the way he jumped at the touch.

"Percy," she murmured in a calming voice, giving him a pointed look.

"Right," he muttered, abashed, and then stared at Paul. Several seconds passed. "Say something?" he pleaded, looking at Paul imploringly.

Paul was speechless. All this time and Percy just came barging in, not apologizing, not saying where he had been, nothing. Paul knew he was being irrational, but a white-hot rage started building up. Why hadn't he called? Ten months and all they get is a measly voice recording? Where had he been? Why had he left them? Sally? How could he do that to her?

Images flooded his mind; Sally's insistent crying for months before they got the phone call, Paul trying to comfort her the best he could but not knowing how, how did you comfort someone who just lost their son, why did you do this Percy, come back, you always come back, please. The short-lived joy of that voicemail before getting it crushed just a week later with Chiron's grim call, and his comforting voice saying He's not dead, he isn't dead, he just fell into Tartarus, and Paul wondering how that wasn't the same thing because there's no way you can go to hell and survive, not even Percy. Day after day of waking up to Sally sitting there watching the door, his heart breaking all over again every single time, and cursing Percy because you did this to her, you did it, you did it, and knowing he wasn't being fair but not caring since all he could see was this broken woman in front of him. Months of blue waffles that would never be eaten because by now he isn't coming back, why are you doing this, it just makes it hurt more, but Paul would never say anything because this is her way of coping and he wouldn't take that away from her, not after everything else already had been.

Paul remembered, and he realized that there was nothing that this boy could do or say that would ever make that right to him. Not ever. "Percy," he said, voice cracking. But Percy wasn't paying attention to Paul; his eyes fixed on the apartment door behind them. His stance became defensive, hand on his pocket as if he were about to reach for Riptide at any second. Behind him, the other demigods responded in kind, ready to face any threat.

Paul turned, hearing the familiar sound of keys turning in the lock. The door banged open, revealing a haggard Sally, struggling with the multiple bags of groceries in her hands. She looked up, pulling the keys from the door, before time completely froze. Paul registered the sound of groceries hitting the floor before-

"Percy," Sally whispered, as if saying it too loud would make it any less true.

"Mom," he replied with a strangled sob. For a second neither moved, until suddenly Percy launched himself across the room into his mother's waiting arms. "I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry," he cried, his head buried in her shoulder. Paul could make out the tears streaming down Sally's cheek. For the first time, it didn't break his heart.

"I knew you'd come back," she sighed, clutching him tighter. Percy let out a sobbing laugh.

"I always come back," he jested, smiling.

Percy wouldn't ever be able to make his disappearance right. He couldn't go back and reassure Sally, keep her from spending 10 months of her life in utter agony over her son's disappearance. He couldn't fix that for her or for Paul. It would take time to reconcile that with both of them. It would take time before Sally could let her son out of her sight without worrying where he was. It would take time for Paul to trust that Percy wouldn't disappear again and leave him with a Sally who was just a shell of herself. It would take time before Percy could be crept up on without having a panic attack, or could be touched without jumping. It would take time for them to become a family again.

But at that moment, seeing the two of them together again, Paul realized something;

It didn't matter.

Wow. Okay. Well, that was longer than I had planned for. And much darker, with much less humor. And honestly, there was very little of the 7 in this fanfiction for a 'Paul meets the 7 fic.' Plus no dinner. But I began typing this, and this is where it led me, so... I hope you guys enjoy anyway!

I feel like Paul was OOC, but honestly if you saw someone hurt someone you loved incredibly badly and then had to deal with the consequences, even if said someone hurt them unintentionally, you would probably have negative feelings for them. So I think he wants to think he hates Percy, even if he really doesn't, because that's easier to deal with than having one person you love hurt another and wanting to blame someone but not being able to. But that's just my view on it.

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