Why is Everything so Loud?! (Fem. Percy)

The Wheel Keeps Turning

The wheels of the cart rattled as I pushed it along. Grimacing, I pressed my eyes closed, nearly running into Dad in the process. I couldn't figure out on what plane of existence that taking your kid, who is still sick, still has an infection, shopping was a good idea. A soft groan passed through my lips, thankfully droned out by the music piping through the speakers. Sleep seemed better and better each minute, and it was getting harder to come up with reasons not to pass out on the floor. The biggest one was that it would do nothing to get him to leave me alone, and so I kept pushing the cart, plans and thoughts of sleep relegated to the back burner.

"You know I have enough clothes, right?" I mumbled, staring at Dad with my chin resting on my arms. "I don't need more."

He hummed and folded a shirt over his arm. "You don't have many at my place." He looked back at me. "And I doubt you want me going to your mother's and explaining why I need some of your clothes."

"I have enough in my bag."

"Percy, you have three outfits, none of them are pajamas. And one of them got ruined when you snuck out. You need more clothes." Dad picked up a sweatshirt with Stitch on it. "Do you like this one?"

"I'd like to go home."

"So that's a no then." He folded it and sat it back on the display before sighing. "You need to work with me here, Percy," he said. "I have no idea what kind of things you like to wear, and it's not exactly like money is an issue for me."

I shifted uncomfortably at the reminder. Anytime I could conceivably forget about being a demigod, something had to bring it back to mind. The cart rolled forward, and I walked to the clearance rack. Metal hangers scraped over the rods as I picked through the shirts and pants. Soft fabric, scratchy fabric, red, blue, it didn't matter so long as I could stand to wear it and so long as it was cheap enough that it wouldn't require me to sell my soul to a demon in order for there to be an equal exchange. My thoughts on the matter were bitter. Nothing was ever equal, it was always skewed in the gods' favor. 

After finding a few shirts and some pants, I dumped them in the cart and wheeled it to Dad. 

"I'm going to, uh--" My face flared with heat. "I'll be across the aisle." Without giving him a chance to respond, I walked over to the bras. There was a sense of safety to be had there. Most guys avoided the area like the plague. Tension left my body as I sorted through the sportsbras, and the most stress that came was when looking an underwear pack that had bonus ones in it. I stood. Maybe I could slip away for a few minutes if I was careful. 

I didn't. But not for lack of what, no, the same anxiety I get when shopping with Mom struck, sending me back towards where I last saw Dad. He wasn't there. A soft whine slipped out of my throat. It took wandering through the aisles and a small glimpse of Dad for the feeling to back off. 

As I drew nearer, it was hard to miss the laughter coming from him, and the lady with long blonde hair. I tensed. No. I walked around the back of the clothes rack, staying out of Dad's sight. I wouldn't interfere if it was nothing. Something told me it wouldn't be the case.

"Handsome and a sense of humor, who would've thought."

"You're not half-bad yourself."

"We, uh, we could go and get some coffee sometime? Or a drink if that's more your style," offered the lady with a smile. I'd had enough and poked out from around the rack.

"Hey, Dad? Did you make sure to tell Mom we were coming here?" I tried not to grimace at calling Amphitrite that.  "I don't think she'd like it if she thought you were cheating on her." 

My words had the lady fleeing like a tide of rats were sweeping across the store. Dad glanced back at me, an eyebrow raised. I shrugged and walked over to him. More kids didn't deserve the life they'd have as a demigod, and if I could keep that from happening, well, I'd do it. Even if it cost me my relationship with Dad.