PERSEUS MEANS DESTROYER

American Idiot

And can you hear the sound of hysteria?

The subliminal mindfuck America.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Perseus was gone by six.

"What, and you just let him walk out? Wow," Tony rolled his eyes. He was sitting alone in the lounge room with the TV blaring in the background as he scrolled through whatever it was he did on his phone. "We don't even know when he's going to come back, Tasha!"

"Don't call me 'Tasha'. And I'm not having this conversation until we're all sober and functional. Sleep off the drink, Tony. We'll wait for you."

"Whatever," he sighed, reaching forward to pour himself another glass. "Night, Natasha."

Annabeth yawned and rubbed at her eyes. "Percy?"

"Hey, Wise Girl," he smiled. "Sorry, I know you're studying. Can I crash here tonight?"

"Uh..." she glanced at the duffle bag in-hand and then behind him onto the balcony. Ignored the blood on his sleeves. It clearly wasn't his. "Of course? Are you okay...?"

He blinked. "No monsters, if that's what you're asking. Something happened at the Tower. I'm... on leave?"

"I'm not even going to question that. Give me your bag and go get changed, I washed the stuff you left here a couple of weeks ago. Top drawer on the left. Leave your hoodie in the sink."

She watched him up the short flight of stairs to the bedroom, mentally adding another item to the to-do list, to write down later: mop the floor and toss Percy's jumper through the washing machine.

"Thanks, 'Beth."

She threw the pen in her hand at the back of his head and snickered when it made contact. "I'm going to keep working. There's leftover Thai in the fridge. Don't use all the hot water, or I can't shower later."

"I know, I know!"

By the time Annabeth had showered and eaten too, Percy was curled up on the couch in one of her baggier sweatshirts and his jeans and spare Camp shirt from her closet. "Hey," he murmured drowsily. "You smell nice."

She snorted out a laugh. "Yeah, I know. And if you drool all over my cushions, you're going to be the one cleaning them."

"What!" He protested, lifting himself off the couch with his elbows. "You put them here."

"What, and that makes it my fault?"

He screwed up his eyebrows like he was trying to figure out what the right response was. "Uh. No...?"

"You're adorable," he frowned up at her, and she smiled back. "But come on. The couch is only going to give you a sore neck."

Annabeth's hand smacked Percy's face.

"Ow," he complained.

"Ow," she said. "Aren't you going to apologise for headbutting my poor hand?"

"Are you going to apologise for smacking me?"

Annabeth sighed dramatically. "I let you into my house, into my bed and into my heart, and you assault me with your face?"

He rolled his eyes and shoved himself up, taking her hand in his and kissing it with a pout. He met her eyes with a smirk, then stage whispered to her hand. "Well, Annabeth's Hand, I'm sorry for hitting you with my face."