Climb (Percy Jackson x Reader)

fifty-one

✺ SOULS AT PEACE ✺

A jolt rushes up through (Y/N)'s body as Hesperos lands, her drowsy mind forced more aware as the Pegasus huffs.

'I'm not sure how I feel about this.' Hesperos kicks at the ground, unwilling to walk towards the house.

(Y/N) dismounts with a sigh. "I get it," she says, patting his neck. "I'd be uncomfortable, too." She adjusts her box of items under her arm, feeling their weight tug at both her muscles and her heart. "You can stay here, H, it's okay."

He nuzzles her shoulder, his breath warm in the nighttime air. The white mark down his face brightens with moonlight as the clouds shift, and (Y/N) strokes it gently before walking away. Behind her, Hesperos's wings ruffle as he settles himself down on the grass to sleep.

(Y/N) pulls her shoulders back, taking a sharp, determined breath before knocking on the door.

Only a few seconds later, it swings open. A confused—and slightly startled—Evander looks at her, his eyebrows bunching together.

"Hey," (Y/N) greets. She meets his eye expectantly. "You free to talk?"

The son of Eurus leans back, looking her up and down.

"I'm not armed," (Y/N) assures.

"So what's that?" He nods towards the box, his gaze sharp and cautious.

Pursing her lips together in a tight smile, (Y/N) holds it out for him. He waits for a moment, examining her for any trace of deception, before taking the box. When he looks at its contents, his exhale tremors—a sort of whine backs his breath, as if his lungs had just been squeezed empty.

Immediately, too jarred to even try and peer closer at the objects in the nighttime dimness, his gaze snaps away.

He takes a slow breath before looking back at (Y/N). Moonlight bounces off his eyes, illuminating his shock. "You . . ."

She just nods.

With another shaky, weakened exhale, Evander steps aside. "Come on in."

— x —

(Y/N) nearly jumps when a mug slides across the table. She stops it in its path. Her ears ring from the grating rush of ceramic on wood.

Evander gestures to the mug. "You're lucky I just put a pot on," he says, sipping from his own mug. "You need it."

(Y/N) pulls the mug closer, closing her eyes briefly as the rich scent of coffee dances on twirling steam to reach her nose. Slightly indignant as she wraps her hands around the mug, she quirks an eyebrow up at Evander.

"What makes you say I need it?" she contests. Warmth presses into her palms, racing through her fingertips and up the length of her arms.

He scoffs. "You're just . . . off," he explains, tilting his head at her. "You looked like the cup was loud enough to make you deaf, for one. Hell, you glared so hard at that flickering light bulb I thought it was going to explode." He motions briefly towards the reading lamp in his living room, now turned off with a preemptive sense of caution. "Not to mention"—he sets his mug down on the table, pulling out a chair near (Y/N)'s—"you were courteous enough to knock on my door."

(Y/N) rolls her eyes, muttering, "Fair enough." As she sips her coffee, heat rushes down through her throat and along the length of her back, bringing a bit more energy to her loosened frame. "Now, I'm curious," she says, returning Evander's slightly smug, interrogative head tilt, "why you're crazy enough to be making coffee this late at night."