Sam and Steve were set to visit Percy’s house today, marking the first time anyone outside of the Seven—and Nico—would step through the door. Percy found himself unusually excited about it, a rare spark of anticipation lighting up his otherwise guarded demeanor. The visit held its own novelty, but what thrilled him even more was the plan he and Sam had cooked up: introducing Steve to the sheer chaos of the godly world.
Percy, of course, intended to make the most of the opportunity. Messing with Steve was practically a hobby at this point—a tradition he cherished with no small amount of glee. Steve might be a super-soldier, but he had no idea what he was walking into. Percy grinned at the thought, already plotting ways to ensure the experience was unforgettable, in the most unhinged way possible.
Percy sliced the last of the cheese with careful precision, adding it to the meticulously arranged charcuterie board he’d promised Steve. With a satisfied nod, he carried the board over to the coffee table, setting it down in the center. The variety of cheeses, crackers, and fruits formed a colorful spread, inviting and thoughtfully curated—a subtle gesture of hospitality Percy hoped Steve would appreciate.
“Don’t even think about it,” Percy warns, eyeing Lea as she inches closer to the charcuterie board. His tone is firm but teasing, and he points a knife at her for emphasis. “I’ve got something else for you.”
Percy could hear Lea’s tail wagging as she trotted away, satisfied with the promise of a meal later. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he pulled on his gloves, the small gesture grounding him amidst his whirlwind of tasks. He mentally ticked through his checklist, ensuring everything was in order before Steve and Sam arrived.
More organized than you’d expect from Percy, right? Though, admittedly, not in the conventional sense. Chaos might be his default mode, but one thing was certain: he would rather face a monster than fail as a host. His mother hadn’t raised him to be anything less than thoughtful when welcoming guests, no matter how unpredictable his life might be.
Just as Percy reached to turn on the radio, a gentle rumble echoed down his driveway. He froze, the sound sparking a grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth. Practically bouncing with excitement, he rushed to the door, his steps light and eager.
He waited there, his anticipation building as Sam and Steve climbed out of Sam’s car. They moved up the driveway, their bodies relaxed, curiosity radiating off them as they approached the house. Sam raised his hand, ready to knock—
But before he could, Percy threw the door open, grinning so widely it was almost infectious.
“Welcome, welcome!” Percy greeted brightly, throwing his arms out theatrically. “To my humble abode!”
“Thanks for having us,” Steve said, ever polite, his smile as polished as his manners.
“Percy,” Sam breathed, his eyes sweeping over the house with thinly veiled astonishment. “This is far from humble. Are you rich?”
“Nope—”
“Excuse me?” Steve interrupted, incredulous.
“—but my dad is,” Percy finished with a dramatic huff. “Gods, let me finish before you start judging me.” He gestured for them to follow, pointing at their shoes. “Shoes off before we hit the living room.”
“Aren’t you spoiled,” Sam muttered under his breath as he tugged off his sneakers.
“I told him I didn’t want it,” Percy said, rolling his eyes as he led them into the cozy living space. “But apparently being hunted for sport by HYDRA for months on end wasn’t acceptable to him.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Sam deadpanned, raising a brow.
Percy shot him a glare, promptly flipping him off. The gesture lacked heat, and Sam snorted, shaking his head in amusement.
“You guys want anything to drink?” Percy asked, glancing over his shoulder. “I can get you literally anything—except alcohol.”
“I’ll take a water, thanks, Perce,” Steve replied, his polite tone accompanied by a warm smile. His expression brightened even more when Mrs. O’Leary trotted out from a hallway on the right, her tail wagging like a hurricane. Steve immediately dropped to the floor, lavishing her with affection as if she were a long-lost friend.
“Could you grab me a Coke?” Sam chimed in, watching Steve’s enthusiastic dog-loving antics with mild amusement.
“Yuppers,” Percy said with a grin, pulling two glasses from the cupboard before opening the fridge. “And then we can have the talk.”
Steve froze mid-pat, his muscles visibly tensing. “What talk?” he asked warily, turning to look at Percy, who threw an ominous smile over his shoulder.
“We can talk,” Percy repeated cryptically, dragging the moment out for dramatic effect.
“Percy, stop that,” Sam scolded, crossing his arms. “You can’t terrify Steve every time you talk to him.”
“Oh, but I can,” Percy declared with exaggerated glee, pouring water into one glass before grabbing the Coke he’d already prepared. “And I will.”
Percy placed a glass in front of Steve, his smile disarming but just cryptic enough to make Steve second-guess himself. He really, really hoped the drink wasn’t poisoned. Without missing a beat, Percy handed Sam his Coke—because of course, it was blue.
“Why is—” Steve began, his curiosity getting the better of him.
Sam cut him off before he could finish. “Don’t question it,” he said with a knowing sigh. “You’re not going to get a satisfying answer.”
“Okay…” Steve murmured, his skepticism growing as he glanced at Percy, who had taken up residence in a bright blue armchair across from them. Percy looked perfectly at home, the very definition of a cryptic enigma, and Steve wasn’t sure if he found that comforting or unsettling.
Mrs. O’Leary, having soaked up all the attention she could from Steve, gave an enthusiastic wag of her tail before abandoning him in favor of curling up at Percy’s feet. Steve couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment as he slid onto the couch beside Sam, shooting a glance at the massive Hellhound now snoozing contentedly.
“So, what do you know about Greek and Roman mythology, Steve?” Percy asked, his tone uncharacteristically serious as he fiddled with his bright blue gloves. Seriously, why was everything around this man blue?
“The basics,” Steve replied awkwardly, shifting slightly in his seat. “What I learned in school and what I’ve read out of boredom.” Admittedly, feeling uncertain was becoming a familiar experience for Steve whenever Percy was around.
“School in the thirties?” Percy snorted, his expression both amused and incredulous. “Doubt you got much from that. I probably learned more about myths in kindergarten than you did in the ‘30s. Though, to be—”
“Percy, focus,” Sam interrupted, cutting him off before he could launch into one of his famously long-winded rants.
“Right, right. Sorry,” Percy cleared his throat, visibly trying to reign in his wandering thoughts. “I can work with the basics. So, here’s the thing—every myth, every story you’ve ever read or heard about Greek mythology is true. The Gods, the Demigods, the monsters—they’re all real. And they live among mortals to this day.”
Steve blinked, processing the revelation slowly. “What…?” He hesitated, the disbelief in his voice giving way to curiosity. “I mean, all things considered, I’m not entirely surprised. But how have I never seen anything? Like, I don’t know—a Cyclops strolling down Main Street?”
Percy’s grin brightened, mischief practically radiating off him. “Oh, there have been plenty of sightings,” he said cheerfully. “But there’s this thing called the Mist. It blocks mortals like you from seeing anything too dangerous or weird. Takes something like the Chimera, for instance, and makes it look like a harmless chihuahua. Now that you’ve been introduced to our world, though, you should start seeing things for what they really are. But it’ll probably be slow going.”
Steve frowned, his thoughts visibly spinning. “Wait—how do you know all this?”
Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jeez, Perce—you forgot the most important part, didn’t you?”
Percy shrugged, entirely unashamed.
“We’re both Demigods,” Sam explained, his tone measured as he gestured between himself and Percy. “This is where the Greek and Roman part comes in. While they’re essentially different facets of the same deities, the Greek and Roman versions of the gods have distinct personalities. I’m a son of Aquilo, the Roman God of the north winds. Percy, on the other hand, is a son of Poseidon—the Greek God of the seas, earthquakes, storms, and horses.”
“I’m also a bit Roman, though!” Percy chimed in cheerfully, throwing Sam an unapologetically bright grin. “But since, ya know, son of Poseidon and all, I mesh better with the Greeks—makes sense, considering that’s where I was raised.”
“And yet the Romans still call you Praetor,” Sam muttered under his breath, before addressing Steve more loudly. “Any questions? Want us to prove it for you?”
“Not really,” Steve admitted, a slight frown creasing his brow as he processed the revelation. “I just… need some time to wrap my head around this. But I trust you. You wouldn’t joke about something like this.”
“Fair enough,” Percy said, suddenly flipping himself upside down in his chair, his legs dangling over the backrest. He looked entirely too relaxed for someone dropping world-shattering truths. “If you have any questions later—like, say, when you’re lying awake in the middle of the night—feel free to call Sam.”
“Why me?” Sam snapped, scowling at Percy. “Why not you? Looking at you, there’s no way you get more than three hours of sleep a night.”
“You are absolutely correct!” Percy agreed, unfazed. “Which is exactly why you shouldn’t call me. On the off chance I manage to sleep, you really don’t want to be the one to wake me.”
Before Sam could retort, Percy’s head suddenly snapped toward Steve, his movement startlingly quick. Steve jumped slightly, his unease spiking at the sight of Percy’s overly wide, mischievous grin.
“Oh, by the way, Steve,” Percy chirped, his voice entirely too bright. “I’m blind!”
“What?!”