Percy Jackson x Male Reader The Sea of Monsters

I Meet A Midnight Jogger

Percy's POV

I couldn't explain things to Tyson. He knew I was sad. He knew I wanted to go on a trip and Tantalus wouldn't let me.

"You will go anyway?" he asked.

Annabeth had just left the cabin a few moments prior. As we had carried an unconscious Y/n inside.

"I don't know," I admitted. "It wouldn't be hard. Very hard."

I finished pulling the blankets over Y/n. And as I stared down at the son of Gaia I felt a shiver run down my spine. His act of defiance at the camp fire had shocked us all, no one had seen a show of power that intense since Thalia's stand at Half-Blood hill.

I was a son of Poseidon, a child of the big three. Meant to be one of, if not the most powerful half-blood on earth, but as I looked at Y/n. I doubted it.

"I will help." I heard Tyson say.

I moved away from Y/n's bed side, as I climbed up into my own bunk. Responding to Tyson as I got settled.

"No, I-uh, I couldn't ask you to do that, big guy. Too dangerous."

Tyson looked down at the pieces of metal he was assembling in his lap-springs and gears and tiny wires. Beckendorf had given him some tools and spare parts, and now Tyson spent every night tinkering though I wasn't sure how his huge hands could handle such delicate little pieces.

"What are you building?" I asked.

Tyson didn't answer. Instead he made a whimpering sound in the back of his throat. "Annabeth doesn't like Cyclopes. You . . . don't want me along/"

"Oh, that's not it," I said halfheartedly. "Annabeth likes you. Really."

He had tears in the corners of his eye.

I remembered that Grover, like all satyrs, could read human emotions. I wondered if Cyclopes had the same ability. Tyson folded up his tinkering project in an old cloth. He lay down on his bunk bed and hugged his bundle like a teddy bear. When he turned towards the wall, I could see the weird scars on his back, like somebody had plowed over him with a tractor. I wondered for the millionth time how he'd gotten hurt.

"Daddy always cared for m-me," he sniffled. "Now . . . I think he was mean to have a Cyclops boy. I should not have been born."

"Don't talk that way! Poseidon claimed you, didn't he? So . . . he must care about you . . . a lot . . ."

My voice trailed off as I thought about all those years Tyson had lived on the streets of New York in a cardboard refrigerator box. How could Tyson think that Poseidon had cared fro him? What kind of dad let that happen to his kid, even if his kid was a monster?

"Tyson . . . camp will be good home for you. The others will get used to you. I promise."

Tyson sighed. I waited for him to say something. Then I realized he was already asleep.

I lay back on my bed and tried to close my eyes, but I just couldn't. I was afraid I might have another dream about Grover. If the empathy link was real . . . if something happened to Grover . . . would I ever wake up?

The full moon shone through my window. The sound of the surf rumbled in the distance. I could smell the warm scent of the strawberry fields, and hear the laughter of the dryads as they chased owls through the forest. But something felt wrong about the night-the sickness of Thalia's tree, spreading across the valley.

Could Clarisse save Half-Blood Hill? I thought the odds were better of Y/n getting a "Best Camper" award form Tantalus.

I got out of bed and pulled on some clothes. I grabbed a beach blanket and a six-pack of Coke from under my bunk. The Cokes were against the rules. No outside snacks or drinks were allowed, but if you talked to the right guy in Hermes's cabin and paid him a few golden-drachma, he could smuggle in almost anything from the nearest convenience store.