Percabeth Dirty One Shots and Drabbles

WIRKYIWK 5

The Grand Eagle Lounge wasn't so much grand as it was a dingy hole-in-the-wall that's better days were decades in the past.

Built into one of the remaining vaults of an old stone bridge in New Rome's terrace district, the bar had been designed with elegance in mind. The original art deco wall lights were still in place, as was the large chandelier hanging from the peak of the arched ceiling, and intricate gold trim still clung to the large oak bar in spots where it had survived drunk patrons' attempts to pry it off. Hints of elegant wallpaper poked through the layers of posters for old gladiator fights, concerts, and legion recruitment drives.

But that past was buried under a heavy layer of grime and neglect, easy to overlook and dismiss in the jumble of the Eagle's current state.

The floor was always sticky, even in the spots where threadbare carpet had been installed, and the hideous vinyl booths in the main room were stained with years of booze and Dionysus knew what else. None of the barstools matched and, most likely, had been stolen from other bars throughout The Eagle's long history. Behind the bar, a great gilded mirror was covered with fluorescent liquid chalk that listed out the weekly specials and the occasional lewd joke in Latin.

The Eagle was a only a few blocks away from Annabeth's apartment and, while it wouldn't have been her first choice of bar, it had grown on her since she'd moved to New Rome. The staff was friendly, but kept their noses out of their patrons' business. Plus, there wasn't a single TV in the entire establishment, which made it ideal on a night like tonight.

It was still early enough that The Eagle was relatively empty when Annabeth walked in - just a few of the usuals in their normal places, making small talk as the bar staff prepared for the rush of college students and legionnaires that would descend in a couple hours. She walked swiftly past them toward the back of the bar, pulling her Yankees hat just a bit lower over her eyes as she did.

Unfortunately, the hat no longer made her invisible; it had lost all its magic years ago, around the same time Annabeth had fallen out of her mother's favor.

Just like everything else, her relationship with Athena had deteriorated after the war. Not that they had ever been particularly close to begin with, but throughout her childhood, Annabeth had gotten attention and care that other demigods often didn't. She was Athena's pride and joy, the best of her daughters - the favorite.

"You don't need my help to be invisible anymore, it seems."

Annabeth had never understood how precarious her position as the favorite truly was until she was already starting to topple. She'd re-enrolled in college just a month after the Battle of Manhattan was settled and immediately began to struggle with the expectation of being normal. She couldn't adjust to a quiet, civilian life, especially not on top of the academic demands of attending a high pressure, prestigious school.

Athena had popped by through all of it, offering unhelpful criticism instead of support and heaping on more pressure instead of easing her daughter's burden. Annabeth had snapped the night her mother announced she'd told the Olympian Council that Annabeth would be thrilled to take on the task of re-designing Mount Olympus on her. She and Athena had gotten into such a vicious fight, Annabeth was surprised she hadn't ended up vaporized by the end of it.

She hadn't seen her mother since that night; later, discovering that her beloved Yankees cap had stopped working had just rubbed salt into the wound. But even without its powers, it was still a useful accessory for the times she wanted to draw less attention to herself.

Times like tonight, when the whole world now knew her name.

At the back of the bar, a rickety set of metal stairs led up to the Grand Eagle's one redeeming feature: the rooftop bar. The rooftop wasn't much more put together than downstairs - the owners had done very little to disguise the fact that the roof was a former roadway - but it at least had clean, matching furniture, fresh air, and a spectacular view of the bay and valley.