Welcome to Ivyflightislistening's collection of Percy Jackson and the Olympians one-shots. Hope you enjoy.

Birthdays-Percy has something to offer Paul, only because I feel like the poor guy gets jipped.

"Happy birthday to you!" Mom and I finished, she with gusto and I didn't make much noise. Better spare Paul, if I wanted to keep him from divorcing mom. Singers as bad as I am are probably illegal. But we both clapped enthusiastically as Mr. Blofis smiled at the pair of us and blew out the candle on the small chocolate cake mom had whipped up. Just as Annabeth had a thing for lemons, Mr. Blofis had a thing for chocolate. Rachel had offered to bring him along to a Chocoholic Anonymous session, but had decided to instead donate her version of Chocolate Monopoly to the family. Apparently, she had quite a few since her father could remember that she loved chocolate, but not what she had received for her birthday the year before. This didn't exactly raise my opinion of him.

Not that I don't like chocolate, but I can hardly say I love it when I live with Mr. Blofis and have Rachel stopping by when in the city. Mom's mother's present, wrapped in shiny green, gleamed on the table. I swallowed.

Gods, I hope Chiron was right.

It wasn't much of a party, as far as parties go. We had all gone on a walk in Central Park, but Paul was an early December guy and we had come in early to thaw their toes and eat some cake before the he and mom left to see a movie nearby. But I had something to do, something important on the marker of Paul's first birthday with our family. Once we finished the cake, I stepped forward.

Paul does this funny eyebrow quirk when he knows you want to tell him something, like he's prompting you or something. So I figured now or never and hoped that this kind of thing worked.

"So." I shifted on my foot, looking at him, then back at mom, who nodded encouragingly. "Well, um, so you know how I'm a demigod?"

I never said I was a great public speaker.

Paul nodded, and from his expression I could clearly tell that he was wondering where this was going.

"Well, so, Chiron, our director at Camp, I sorta asked him how to do something, because, I guess I figured it'd be useful. To, you know, see through the Mist."

Paul's entire being had lit up just by my mentioning Chiron. "Chiron as in the hero training centaur?"

"That's one way to put it." I said. "Or pinochle played centaur."

"Chiron plays pinochle?"

"Well, he's a good trainer, too." He reassured him. "He's pretty good at both."

"Right." Paul looked completely blown away. I looked at mom again, who was still smiling, so I cleared my throat and continued.

"I explained the Mist to you a while ago, the stuff that keeps most mortals from seeing Celestial bronze, monsters, gods, those types of things. I asked Chiron how to lift it, and he said it was pretty simple. Unless I screw it up. But I just have to say a few things in Greek, but I should warn you first. Monsters are scary and you'll see some pretty weird things. But for the most part, you'll be normal and you'll see things as they really are. Mom and I just figured, seeing as she can see through the Mist already and I obviously can, it'd only be fair if we found some way to help you. So I did. Do you want to?"

Paul's usually pretty thoughtful. He thinks things through before speaking, always has a shred of insight to share, and can make you go insane as he tries to figure out his next move in Risk. Not that Risk isn't a ridiculously long game anyway, but he certainly didn't help. But he took about five seconds to look between mom and I, standing straight and tall by the stove as if he expected something thrilling to appear right in front of him.

"I don't want to trouble you, Percy," he said quickly, "Nor you, Sally. But I certainly appreciate the gesture, even if it doesn't work. It just… feels unbelievable."

"Tell me about it." I muttered, making mom laugh. "Okay. Here goes nothing."

Just like Chiron said, I led Paul out to the balcony (more natural energies, apparently) and pulled some herbs out of my Camp bag that he said cleared the mind. Then, just like in those cheesy movies with fortunetellers straight out of Scooby-Doo, I placed my fingers on the sides of his head and pushed slightly.

"Okay." I said, trying to sound confident, which was the key part of this procedure. "Close your eyes, and breathe in the herbs." Which mom was burning. Good thing nobody else was standing out on their balconies in five degree weather, otherwise I'm pretty sure that would've been the end of the Jackson-Blofis family.

Chiron had told me the chanty-spell thing would come to be, being a direct descendent of an ancient Greek, but I had made him write it down anyway. I had it in my pocket, but found Chiron was right after all. My eyes had drifted shut, and the Greek began pouring from my mouth, feeling familiar even though I had never heard the spell before in my life. It was about revealing truth, reveling in glory, understanding of darkness, the sort of philosophical things that Chiron loves so I could easily imagine him making it up, even though I knew it predated even him. Hecate had paired up with Athena to create it, goddesses of magic and wisdom, to bestow clarity on those that they wished.

I felt the words dying, and finished up, stuffed by hands in my pocket, and looked up at Paul, who was opening his eyes.

"Feel any different?" Mom asked, touching his shoulder with the hand that wasn't holding smoldering plants. Paul shook his head.

"Not really. But the Greek was really cool. Where did you learn that, Percy?"

I shrugged. "Most demigods know some. We fall into it if someone suddenly starts conversing in ancient Greek. Monsters do it sometimes."

"Which is why you're dyslexic?" Paul remembered from a conversation years ago. "Because you're hardwired to read that instead of English?"

"Bingo." I muttered, feeling a certain Greek object grow heavier in my pocket. I took Riptide out, running it over in between my fingers. I wanted to see if it had worked, if Paul could see the Celestial bronze, but was afraid that it hadn't worked, and I would've disappointed everyone.

I backed up a few steps, just in case. It isn't good not to get in the habit of just ripping a sword out around people, incase you do so while in the company of demigods and you chop off their leg when it would have gone right through a mortal's. Then I uncapped the pen.

Obviously, it worked. Paul was so surprised his eyebrows practically disappeared in his hairline, and that's receding. Mom was grinning, and I couldn't help but share her happiness, just a little.

"That's the sword you always fight with?"

"Yep." I spun it around in my hand. Habit before warming up for a battle, or just during conversation, whichever I happened to be engaging in at the time. "It's called Anaklusmos, or Riptide."

"Wasn't that Hercules's sword?"

I must have looked like he had shoved the sword down my throat, so he quickly backed off. Paul's pretty perceptive of when a subject is off-limits.

"Happy birthday, Paul." I tried to cover up the sticky moment. "Can we go inside now? Either my feet will fall off or the neighbors will call the cops. One of the two."

"Melodrama." Mom stage whispered, but she grinned and shuffled us inside. "More cake?"