Fall (Percy Jackson x Reader)

twenty-six

The light wind blows through Percy's hair as he jogs, trying to catch up to the skeleton on the opposite end of the deck.

"Hey!" he calls out, slowing his pace. "Red overcoat! Yeah, you." He inclines his head in confirmation at the skeleton he nearly crashed into in the hull's main hallway a few minutes prior.

The skeleton steps forward, tilting its skull at Percy in confusion. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Percy nods, glancing around him for (Y/N). Even upon noticing that she is nowhere in earshot, he still lowers his voice, asking the crewmember the question that has been nagging at him for the past hour. "When we passed in the hallway earlier," he starts, "you were coming out from (Y/N)'s chosen room, right?"

The skeleton nods. "Yes, sir, I was. Just making sure she was settling in nice, and all."

Percy hesitates a moment before taking a breath and asking, "Did you see who she was talking to in the rainbow?"

He just needs surety that his imagination wasn't making Will's young voice sound different, even through a message and the door.

The skeleton shrugs, leaning back slightly. "Just some blond dude who she said was named Will Solace."

Percy relaxes, letting out a soft exhale of relief. "Thank you," he says, and the crew member's jaw opens slightly as though smiling. It nods, and Percy turns around, returning to the hull and looking for a cabin even slightly above the qualification of less-than-decent.

Unfortunately, all of them are far less than decent.

With a sigh, Percy realizes that (Y/N) and Clarisse happened to get first pick at the rooms, therefore choosing the better ones among the lot. He takes his backpack off of his shoulders, closing the door behind him and dropping the bag to the floor. Exhausted from the day, he slumps onto the floor, arms and legs sprawled out starfish-style.

Meanwhile, Clarisse stays busy ensuring that all those working in the engine room don't get the same peace and quiet.

(Y/N) barely flinches as the daughter of Ares barks at a crew member to get their act together. "Whoa!" Clarisse yells, throwing a loose screw at the skeleton to get their attention. "Keep the fire away from the oil tank, you idiot! Do you want us to die?"

"No, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am."

"Yeah, you are. All of you better use some common sense and . . ."

(Y/N) blurs out Clarisse's reprimands while heating up a deformed connecting rod with her blowtorch, instead waiting for the other girl to quiet before lifting her welding helmet to take a breath of fresh air. Her nose crinkles slightly at the stuffiness of the room, the air clogged with heat from blowtorches and metallic dust.

On the other end of the room, Tyson stands with a bucket near his feet, using his hydrokinesis to carefully drain the water out from the main cylinders. Occasionally, a skeleton approaches him with soaked and misshapen machinery, asking him to dry the piece and twist it back into shape. More serious work gets kept for the crew or—depending on their current load—tossed to Clarisse, who works with (Y/N) to soften and re-set the metal.

"So I've been thinking," (Y/N) starts, earning a hum of acknowledgement from the otherwise-busy Clarisse, "and I still don't completely understand how you managed to get Drew's bed out of her cabin and in the middle of the woods that one time."

The sound of Clarisse's laughter is made clearer when she turns her blowtorch off and lifts her helmet, shaking her head slightly. "It isn't hard when all those boys and girls are their own Sleeping Beauties. You just need to keep from gagging at the stench of perfume and cologne everywhere."