A Little Ambrosia For Your Day (Percabeth One-Shots)

Galway Girl

Percy's POV — 1970's

Percy inhaled the clean air of the Irish city.

As a man who lived in England, he wasn't used to the Irish streets — the music, the dancing, or the number of bars.

He was just here on vacation, he reminded himself. He was just here to escape his job for a few months. He couldn't fall in love with these streets, he told himself. This situation was temporary.

Yet Percy strolled on, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat. He knew he shouldn't be walking through the streets at night, for the light and song and dance would make him fall in love with the little Irish city even more.

He ignored his common sense, however, and walked down the chilly street, his messy black hair ruffled from the wind.

Percy heard music — the music he was getting accustomed to hearing in these little Irish streets. He heard the sound of laughter and chatter — the sound of people having a good time.

Percy didn't think he would ever hear the sound of laughter again after hearing of the war stories his parents would tell him of.

He was a mere boy during some of the wars his parents spoke of, and he wasn't even alive for the others.

He still saw the effect of the wars on his old city in England, and they were devastating.

It felt good to hear laughter again, Percy thought. He smiled at the sound of the laughter getting closer and closer.

People didn't laugh as much where he was from.

Percy finally reached the end of the street and turned to his right, walking by the bend in the street.

The crowd was finally clear to him. He felt pure ecstasy at the sight of people laughing and drinking and clapping during the chilly night.

A beautiful song was playing in the air. The sound of the rich fiddle filled the air, and Percy felt his head move to the beat it was playing. There was a group of dancers in the center, and their feet went clickety-clack as they hit the ground in a difficult rhythm.

Percy slipped into the large crowd filled with people of all ages and genders and colors.

They all had one thing in common — their love for this music and dance.

And that was all they needed, Percy realized.

She played the fiddle in an Irish band
But she fell in love with an English man
Kissed her on the neck and then I took her by the hand
Said, "Baby, I just want to dance"

His green eyes searched for the fiddle player, for he had never heard someone play the fiddle with such emotion and grace.

The bow of the fiddle danced across the strings with ease and pleasure, and all Percy wanted to do was find who was playing it.

His eyes rested on a young woman who was seated behind the dancers.

She seemed to be in her early twenties, like Percy himself. Her curly blonde hair was in a messy ponytail, and her gray eyes were sparkling.