A/N: Rated M for language and suggestive themes. I have an idea in mind for a second chapter, which will contain smut, but whether I'll write it is still up in the air. For now, enjoy :)

Getting tutored was the worst decision Percy had ever not-made. The school counselor had taken one look at his grades and ordered mandatory sessions.

Percy hated it. Hated the inky shame that settled in his gut everytime the school bell rang and he'd have drag his feet to the library. Hated the weight of inferiority that crushed him for a whole grueling hour as he tried his best to understand scrambled shapes that refused to sit as still as he was. All the other kids at his school could read and write as naturally as breathing. It sucked being the odd one out.

And when you're seventh grade, these things mattered. It wasn't like elementary school, where you could pick your nose and none of your friends would bat an eye. Now, it was all about wearing the right clothes, knowing the right people, and saying the right slang. Who wanted to hang out with an idiot? Nobody. Especially not popular, prissy Annabeth Chase who usually taught his sessions.

Today there was someone else waiting for him in the library. The older boy glanced up from one of the round tables, his cropped blonde hair clinging like a halo over his head, a friendly smile popping a dimple in his cheek.

Percy froze in place until the other boy waved him over.

"Annabeth's sick today," Luke said. Percy dropped his binder on the table and settled in the seat beside him. "She wanted me to fill in for her. Are you cool with that?"

In his head, Percy was reminding himself not to be a loser. This guy was a star-athlete. He had a wicked fastpitch on the diamond and was someone you definitely wanted to make a good impression on. So of course, the first thing Percy did was swallow and reply in a scraggly voice that he barely recognized. "I'm guessing you—uh. Know your seventh year English."

Luke laughed. "Well I did pass the course three years ago."

Percy flipped his binder open, snuck a sideways look, forgot his nerves and ended up staring at Luke. All the regal, bold angles in his face. Luke noticed.

"We should be good," Percy added on quickly. "As long as you haven't taken a baseball to the head since then."

"Ouch," Luke said. "Can't promise you that. Let's call today a testrun, huh?"

"Okay," Percy finally managed to smile. "If your English is as bad as mine, I'll call the paramedics."

Luke looked amused, but instead of laughing, he furrowed his brow, raking his eyes over Percy's face.

"Hey, Perce, you don't happen to know Triton do you?"

Oh joy. His favorite topic.

"Yeah, actually. He's my older brother."

"Right, I knew that. Guess I'd forgotten at some point." Luke leaned back in his seat, posture melting into casual. "Triton's in a few of my classes, you know, he's a funny guy."

If acting like a superior, pushy, know-it-all was funny, then yeah, Triton was hilarious. He gave Percy side-splits everyday, honestly.

Instead of going on a rant, Percy nodded and there was a drawn out silence.

"You wanna get started?" Luke asked.

It was a full hour of poring over words, squinting through his word-distorting dyslexia, and tongue-tripping over shaky sentences. Annabeth liked to linger on his mistakes, but Luke was more of a keep going, it'll click eventually, kind-of-teacher.

Percy liked Luke's method much better. And in case it wasn't obvious enough, he was totally biased.

Walking home later, still warm-faced and thrumming, he grinned from ear to ear, remembering how much he'd learned. Like how Luke's laughter crackled in his throat, or how cool Luke looked in his varsity hoodie, ripped jeans, beaded necklace…oh yeah, and he'd learned some grammar and crap too. Also, the warm, natural tilt to Luke's mouth...

Percy tripped on the porch step and almost fell splat-forward, catching himself at the last second. Hoping the street was empty so nobody had to see that, Percy jammed his key into the door and pushed it open with his shoulder, still mourning how amazing it'd be if Luke could tutor all his sessions.

Two steps inside the house and his backpack slumped to the floor. Anyone passing through would definitely trip on it, but Dad wouldn't be home to yell at him for at least another week. Could be two, maybe more. Percy had learned years ago that Dad's business trips rarely ever stuck to business. If he had a choice, Dad preferred the company of a young woman over any one of them. Even Tyson.

"You guys," Percy stopped short when he entered the family room. "What're you doing here?"

Morph and Deimos had hefted up their beat-up leather couch and were carrying it to the other end of the room. One of them mumbled to the other, something like, 'what's his name again?'

"We're setting up for the party," Deimos replied.

"Hey Pete," Morph said.

Percy walked further into the room, taking in all their misplaced furniture. "It's Percy. And who said we're having a party?" Percy didn't even know why he bothered asking. There was only one possible answer.

"Triton." Morph dropped his end of the couch.

Deimos grumbled, but followed suit. He turned to Percy. "And you better not get in the way of it, you little punk. No snitching to Daddy. Or we'll lock you in the closet for a timeout." As Deimos shifted his weight to one hip, his leather jacket rumpled, revealing a sliver of something that looked black and metal, tucked into his spiky belt. If Deimos wanted to, he could do a lot worse to Percy than a timeout. They both knew it, and Deimos' smirk was his way of gloating.

Why did Triton have such shitty friends?

Percy cut past them, heading into the kitchen where he'd heard noises.

"Dad's gonna punish all of us when he finds out," Percy announced.

Triton barely looked up from unscrewing a peanut butter jar. He was wearing shorts that displayed his toned calves and a white tank top that did the same for his arms, the show-off. His skin glowed all over with tan, hair tied back in a short ponytail. It was whirlpool black, same as Percy's. That was where the resemblance ended though, because while Percy was a scrawny mess of wiry bones, Triton was chiseled by flat planes and woven with lean muscle. Everyone always insisted Percy would grow up to look just like Triton. Percy hoped not.

"He won't find out," Triton said. "Not unless you tell him."

"Why shouldn't I?" Percy crossed his arms. "Give me a reason."

Believe him, Percy was all too aware of how uncool it was to be the annoying little brother. In fact, if they weren't related, Triton might actually be one of the guys Percy looked up to: he was popular, athletic, had soaring grades. But he knew Triton too well to be fooled, and the problem was, Triton was too much like Percy. In the worst way possible. Once either of them got away with something, it was like sticking a foot in the door, and they'd keep seeping in, no matter how tightly you tried to insulate. They were almost like water in that sense.

A few summers ago, Percy had started shoplifting snacks from the corner store, and now he did it all the time with no plans of stopping. If Percy let Triton hold a party tonight, no questions asked, he'd never see the end of it, and soon Triton would be hosting every weekend, maybe a few during the weekdays if he could get away with it. And when all the dancing and drinking games were over, after everybody had had their fun and left, Percy knew all too well who'd be forced onto the clean-up crew.

Triton sighed as he lathered peanut butter onto a bread slice. "I'll give you ten dollars—"

"Ten? If you're offering hush money, I'm gonna need a lot more than that."

"Fine, twenty."

Percy set his jaw. "Forty."

Triton scoffed out a laugh. "Now you've really gone crazy." He padded across the tile in bare feet and swung open the fridge. "What're you gonna do with money anyway," he asked, his voice warbled and head buried in the fridge. "Is petty theft not doing it for you? I swear to God if you get caught, even once, I'm sending you to boot camp."

"You can't send me anywhere, you're not my damn dad."

"Watch your fucking mouth." Triton ducked out of the fridge with a jar of strawberry jelly in hand. "If Dad hears you talking like that, he's gonna blame me."

"Dad's ten-thousand miles away right now, probably curled up in bed with some slutty intern. Stop changing the subject."

"Christ. When did you get so—" Triton dropped the jelly on the counter, and between the glass and marble, a piercing ring carved itself in the air. "Nevermind. You've never been innocent. I'm not giving you forty dollars, so you file that dream away, it's never gonna happen."

"Fine by me," Percy said. "Neither is your party. I'm calling dad." His eyes followed Triton's hands as they set the knife aside—finished spreading jelly—and squished the two halves of the sandwich together.

Triton cupped a hand around his mouth. "Tyson! Lunch is ready!"

Down the hall, a door creaked open, and a few seconds later a skinny scrap of a kid scooted into the kitchen, brown mop of hair falling over his forehead. His racecar pj's hung off of him like a tablecloth, proving once and for all that hand-me-downs never fit quite right.

Percy's mood flipped like a coin. "Hey little bro, how was school?"

Tyson's baby browns went wide and his smile radiated sunbeams. "Percy!"

Percy met him halfway across the kitchen, bending forward to wrap Tyson's little body in his arms. Most seven year old boys were too embarrassed to give their brothers hugs—Percy knew he'd never give Triton one at that age. Dad and Triton blamed it on Tyson's developmental delays, just like they did all of Tyson's unique behaviors. But in Percy's expert opinion, it was just Tyson being his cheerful and impossibly lovable self. Percy squeezed him tight while he still could, knowing there'd come a day, probably soon, when Tyson grew out of it.

"Ty, your peanut butter and jelly is waiting." Triton had the plate in his hand and he was tapping his foot. They met eyes over Tyson's shoulder. Percy stuck his tongue out, because they both knew he was Tyson's favourite, then he let his little brother go.

"No eating in your room," Triton said as he guided Tyson over to the kitchen table. Percy rolled his eyes. Triton just loved playing parent, didn't he? It was sick.

Once perched on a chair, Tyson swung his legs back and forth. "Can I have apple juice please?"

"No, it has too much sugar," Triton turned around. "I'll get you water."

Ugh. Percy leaned against the counter and watched the scene with his nose wrinkled.

"When's daddy coming home?" Tyson eyes wandered innocently as he chewed. Bits of mushy food were visible between his munching teeth, cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk.

"Never," Percy said. "Hopefully."

"Next week," Triton replied at the same time. "So, seven days. Just in time to celebrate, right?"

"Stop lying to him."

"How about you just keep your mouth shut-"

"What's the point of getting his hopes up?"

"Your attitude is doing a lot more damage than mine. Dad wouldn't miss Tyson's birthday for the world. You know that."

"Do I?" Percy cocked his head, glaring the coldest daggers he could muster at Triton, who wasn't even looking when he set Tyson's cup on the table. Triton was glaring right back at Percy.

Triton seemed to be channeling the message: zip it, or I'll sew your mouth shut.

Stop lying! Percy wanted to scream.

Tyson's voice broke the tension. "Daddy isn't coming to my birthday?" Compared to them, their little brother sounded painfully weak and uncertain. It made Percy's chest ache so badly, he almost wished he couldn't feel anything at all. If Triton tried to insist again that their dad was coming, Percy was sure he'd explode.

"Listen," Triton said in a tone that wanted to sigh, but he wore a tired smile instead. "We're all going out to Wild Waves on your birthday."

"Really?"

Triton ruffled Tyson's hair. "Really. I'm buying us all-day passes. Just me, you, and Percy. I'm not sure about Dad, since he's so old, he might have a heart attack or something. Without him, we'll be able to go on as many rides as we like and buy all the special junk food there is, okay?"

"You know carnivals make the best food in the entire world," Percy pushed off the counter. "Rainbow cotton candy, deep-fried ice cream and cinnamon elephant ears."

Tyson kicked up his legs in his seat, practically hopping up and down. If his mouth wasn't full of pb&j, he'd probably be blabbering with excitement.

"Finish your sandwich," Triton said. "We'll be back in a second." Triton grabbed Percy's arm and dragged him into the hallway.

The first thing Percy did was snort. "So you've finally checked into reality. I have to say, I'm honestly surprised-"

Triton shoved his mouth right up against Percy's ear and hissed out, "Those passes cost seventy dollars each. We'll go to the amusement park on Ty's birthday. But tonight, I'm having my party. Got it?"

Percy blew his bangs out of his eyes. He'd push his brother off, but Triton had already taken a step back. His expression was pure shale rock. Hard and unfeeling, staring Percy down.

"Fine," Percy muttered.

"So what did you get for number twenty-two?" Jason chewed the end of his pen, tapping the sticky buttons of a calculator. He was perched at the edge of Percy's mattress, skinny legs folded under him pretzel-style, and his torso rocking back and forth. ADHD, like Percy. His butter blonde hair was a super-powered, super annoying reflector of sunlight, barely crawling through the window as it was. Soon, it'd be totally dark outside.

Percy wanted to suffocate Jason with a pillow. He settled with chucking one at Jason's head.

"Stop asking me. This is like the fifth time I've told you, are you going senile? And cut that out, you're making the bed bounce."

Jason stopped rocking and looked up. His glasses were a pair of smashed flat rectangles, blue-framed, the bridge too tight for his nose. He was about as popular as Percy at school, which was to say, not at all. "Sorry. Just thought you could give me some ideas."

Percy was sitting against the headboard. He let his neck slacken and the back of his head knocked on the wood. How long had he been trapped in his room? It had to be a couple hours at most. It felt like a couple of days had passed.

"Come on," Jason said. "If you do your homework now, you won't have to worry about it later. It's easier with a partner."

"No." Percy didn't need any other reason, except that he didn't feel like it. He felt like going into the kitchen and grabbing an iced coke and a bag of barbecue Lays. "This is such bullshit."

At his language, Jason worriedly glanced over at the corner. There was a great big bean bag chair stuffed there, faded baby blue from years of use and comfy as hell for the exact same reason. Somewhere between the lumps of styrofoam, Tyson was curled up in a ball. Percy had ripped the fuzziest blanket from his own bed and draped it over his little brother, who'd been assigned to Percy's watch by Triton the Dictator.

"He's asleep," Percy snapped, annoyed at everything in general. Jason was just the closest target. "Without dinner. Because of that stupid party."

"You told me you guys already ate."

"Yeah. Hours ago."

Downstairs, something shattered, followed by a wave of shrieking hoots. The volume of the music seemed to crank up three times higher, even though the base was already vibrating the walls.

"Mom made us risotto for dinner." Jason sighed out loud, as if he could still taste the cheesy sauce, and guilt pinched Percy's stomach. He was reminded that Jason had left his perfectly quiet house to be here with him. "I can bring the leftovers to school tomorrow," Jason said. "Um, I mean, if you want. We've got too much."

Jason really was a good friend. He knew Percy didn't like taking handouts, but he also knew there'd be no fresh groceries in the house until Percy's dad came home. Unlike Jason, Percy was a bad friend. A bad person. He didn't deserve to be on the receiving end of Jason's charity, after acting like a jerk and selfishly sulking.

All of a sudden, Percy needed to get away, and fast, as if putting distance between them could somehow lessen his shame.

So he jumped up from the bed. "I'm starving right now."

Jason only got one word out: "Don't-"

"Keep an eye on Tyson, 'kay?"

Percy slipped into the hallway and shut his bedroom door behind him. He took a deep breath. A fresh pulse of techno music embraced his skull, making everything ring and the floor under his feet buzz. He crept down the stairs, all too aware of how he was dressed: a hand-me-down shirt from Triton's favorite rock band-twice his size and slipping down his shoulder-along with checkered boxers.

'Keep Tyson in here with you. I don't want to see either of you downstairs until I tell you it's okay. And by that time, you should both be asleep anyway.'

Triton was such a jackass. Percy remembered the irritating, parental tone he'd had, standing in the doorway of Percy's room and gazing down at them like they weren't all just kids.

'Don't. Go. Downstairs. Do you understand?'

Percy scoffed. As if Triton was actually going to cancel their Wild Waves trip. He was cruel, but not that cruel, and never to Tyson, who couldn't possibly be punished for the stunts Percy was always pulling. It'd only take a minute anyway.

The ground floor was pathetically lit, bodies flickering and dancing in the shadows. Luckily, Percy didn't have to pass through the living room to get to the kitchen. He wasn't anywhere near the heart of the party and he was already close to sensory overload. Deafened by the shouting, blinded by the dark and the random flashes, the smell of smoke and alcohol and something suffocatingly sweet seeping past his nostrils and poisoning his tongue.

He slunk down the hallway and passed a few tangled up couples. They were moaning into each other's mouths and copping a feel under their clothes. You know, nothing too R-rated.

Unfortunately, the kitchen was another case. There were windows on the far wall, illuminating a scene that Percy was probably better off not seeing. So he pretended he didn't.

"Sorry," Percy mumbled to the buck naked guy who was perusing the fridge. "Can I just…" Percy stretched over naked-dude's sweaty shoulder and snatched a soda can from one of the inner shelves.

He spun around. Popped the seal immediately, because holy crap, he needed a drink. Two ice-cold gulps later and Percy slammed the can down on the counter, just inches away from a burnt out joint. Percy darted his tongue across his lips, tasting the same nasty bitterness. Whatever he just drank was not Coke.

Everything from his mouth-downward sizzled. Churning, burning.

"Hey Perce, I was wondering where you were."

Percy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and tried to fix his drooping shirt sleeve, but it ended up slipping right back down. Luke watched it all with a smile on his face, probably a little more than drunk. He looked hot tonight-he was always hot. But right now, he was wearing a plaid gray shirt that melded with his chest, black jeans tucked into his converse shoes, and his gold hair was a sexy mix between rumpled and spiked.

"Sorry," Percy stuttered out. "Upstairs. Um, doing homework. Just got done."

Why did he lie? No idea. He was going to kill Jason later, out of pure spite.

Thankfully, Luke didn't seem phased, maintaining his typical carefree tone, "That's too bad. You should've invited me up. I would've loved to help...in whatever way you needed." Luke grinned and pounding warmth spread through Percy.

"Next time," Percy agreed. Was this really happening?

"Nice shirt by the way," Luke stepped closer, popping the bubble of personal space. "I love that band." He brushed his fingers over the logo, where Percy's nipple happened to be, growing stiff under the cloth.

Percy bit his lip. He expected Luke to move his fingers after a few seconds. Luke didn't.

So Percy continued to enjoy the feeling of Luke's unapologetic touch, silently wishing he was topless. If Percy was a girl, it'd be like getting his tit groped, so was this second base? Percy had no experience whatsoever.

"Hey Perce," Luke whispered, swaying towards his face. Luke's breath was a cloud of chemicals, ripe with boozey-sweetness.

Percy let out a soft sigh. "Mhmm?"

"Are you gay?"

Percy blinked and tilted his head up. An expectant, mostly-clear blue gaze stared back down.

So maybe Luke wasn't as drunk as he seemed? Percy shifted away, breaking the spell of physical contact. "Well, I…"

"Come on. You can tell me."

Except Percy couldn't. Not when his throat had clogged up like a sink drain.

Luke licked his lips, more of a thoughtful gesture than anything else. "Alright, what if I told I was gay?" he asked

"Me too," Percy blurted out.

He didn't know why. Maybe because that was the strongest signal he was going to get, maybe because he was scared Luke would lose interest. The truth hung in the air, fully out to dry, for the first time in his life.

To his surprise, Luke pulled back. One second, their faces were hovering inches apart, and then Luke was several feet away with his back to Percy

"Goddamnit. You win."

"Never bet against me, Castellan." Deimos had a beer can knocked back in his hand, shoulders pressed flat against the far wall. Up until now, silently enjoying the show. "I've known Prissy longer than you, and my gaydar's been ringing for years."

"Just shut up dude." Luke threw a concerned glance over his shoulder . There was no need. Percy was already as flushed and humiliated as he was going to get. "How much do I owe you for betting he was straight?"

"Twenty bucks."

Percy had only had half a can of beer, yet his world managed to tip sideways. He grabbed onto the edge of the counter for support. Even though it was nauseating, he kept upright, refused to fall apart in front of Deimos. Anger alone gave him strength. The rest of him was still in the act of processing.

"Deimos, you would have a gaydar," Percy got out. "You raging faggot."

Deimos just laughed out loud. Finished paying his debt, Luke turned around, meeting Percy's eyes like he wasn't the biggest bastard Percy had ever met.

"Sorry Perce. Didn't mean to bet against you. But you just didn't strike me as…"

"A raging faggot?" Deimos smirked behind his beer can, then threw back a swig.

"Aw, don't look at me like that." Luke scrubbed the back of his hair, uncomfortable, and Percy had to wonder what kind of sorry expression was plastered on his face. "You're cute and all, for a dude. I just don't swing that way."

Deimos snickered. "Course you don't, you're a pitcher. God, I should've really gotten Morph in on this."

"Plus, you're way too young for me." Luke shrugged.

Percy was still trying to look calm, trying to look annoyed but not completely heartbroken, racking his brain for any kind of solution that would cut this as short as possible; when what do you know? His rotten luck crawled into a toilet and got that much shittier.

His older brother walked into the kitchen.

"Hey dude," Deimos waved and almost lost his balance. Drunk off his ass. "Glad you could make it to Percy's coming out." Deimos dissolved into slurred laughter.

For about a millisecond, total confusion passed over Triton's face. And then his eyes rested on Percy.

Percy's fingers were white-knuckled, clutching onto the counter, and if he wasn't so focused on looking aloof, he might've started crying.

"I was getting a coke," Percy mumbled, before Triton could really rip into him.

There was a busty girl tucked under Triton's arm who was desperately trying to suck the skin off his neck. Triton pushed her off and opened his mouth to say something, just as Percy slipped past him. Whatever Triton called out was lost in the noise.

Percy didn't look back, one goal set firmly in his mind: get back to his room. Down the hall and pounding up the stairs, it took until his hand was wrapped around the knob to notice that Triton wasn't behind him. Hopefully, he'd been drunk. Hopefully he'd been too out of it to remember in the morning. All Percy could do now was hope and hide and shiver with anxiety.

Percy slammed the door behind him, making Jason's head snap up.

"That took awhile," Jason tilted his head, annoyingly perceptive. "Are you okay?"

Percy didn't look at him. Just strode over to the corner to check on Tyson, and when he saw his brother fast asleep, Percy slid down the wall next to him, his legs too weak to hold him up anymore.

"Percy?" The mattress squealed as Jason slid off and got to his feet.

"Leave me alone," Percy snapped.

Jason froze mid-step. "Do you really want me to go? All the way home?"

Percy didn't answer. So Jason flopped back down on the bed, heaving a big sigh, his limbs spread out like a starfish.

It really didn't matter. Percy was alone either way.

Around two o'clock, the bedroom door cracked open.

Percy lifted his head from his pillow. At some drowsy point, he'd migrated from the floor to the bed. He could hear Jason snoring behind him, having stolen all the blankets and wrapped himself up like a burrito. The light from the hallway silhouetted the figure peering in, but Percy would know his brother anywhere.

"Hey," Triton whispered.

"Hey," Percy whispered back.

"Can you help me clean up downstairs?"

Some other night, Percy would whine and complain, and only drag himself out of bed under threat of blackmail. Tonight, Percy easily roused himself. He hadn't been able to get a wink of sleep.

"Want me to give your friend a ride home?" Triton asked, once they were alone in the hall.

Percy shook his head and wordlessly led the way to the stairs.

They both grabbed garbage bags and began picking up trash: empty cans, soiled paper plates, cigarette butts, and ripped scraps of clothing. Those weren't even the worst of it.

They threw open the windows to air the smoke out and Triton vacuumed every surface multiple times, sucking up layers of crumbs. Meanwhile, Percy grabbed a towel and some detergent and got to work on the spills (one of the curtains smelled especially funky, like pepperoni puke). By the time they were pushing the furniture back into place, the sun was crawling out of the ground.

Percy had walked onto the porch to wring out a rag when a wave of fatigue washed over him. He plopped down on the first step to rest. Between the two houses across the street, he could see fragile white light licking the fringe of the dark sky, blotting the deep violet into a million lighter shades.

The door swung shut behind him. Percy glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting to have been locked out. To his surprise, Triton stood outside too. He walked across the porch, wood lazily creaking under his feet, and sat down on the same step as Percy.

Percy went back to squinting at the dawn, tucking his knees to his chest and hugging them tightly.

Triton let out a wistful sigh. "It's too bad Dad doesn't take us hiking anymore," he said. "Remember, back before Tyson was born? We used to see gorgeous sights like this all the time."

Percy mumbled something under his breath and Triton turned his head to look at him.

"What was that?"

"I'm glad he doesn't," Percy repeated. "I hate when he pretends to like us."

A stream of hot air blew out of Triton's nostrils. "Dad does his best. Sometimes, that's all we can really ask of people."

Yeah, what a joke. If Percy had his way, he'd never ask anything from anyone. He hated being let down, so he never let his hopes get up. That's why he insisted that Dad wouldn't come back for Ty's birthday; why he fully expected to be ditched by his few friends once they learned about his sexuality. Even klutzy, forgetful, wonderful Jason.

"Listen Percy," Triton's voice dipped low from the weight in it. "I kicked Deimos out. And Luke. They aren't welcome in our house anymore."

Percy's nails bit into his palms. "And why exactly do you think I give a shit about that?"

A few beats passed where the silence festered between them. That was all the answer Percy needed. Enormous, tree-sized emotions sprouted and burst out of his guts, so big he felt like he was going to be ripped apart.

"Percy-"

"Shut up. Just shut up. You're not Dad, you're my older brother, I don't want to hear anything—"

"First of all," Triton said with a twinge of annoyance. "You need to relax."

"You didn't need to kick Luke out!" Percy shouted back, jumping to his feet without really meaning to. As if he wasn't already embarrassed enough, Triton just had to make everything worse, didn't he? Blood roared in his ears. "For God's sakes! He didn't even do anything."

Triton caught his arm. "Can you let me finish you moron!"

"I told you, I don't care!"

Percy turned to bolt back inside—where he might remember how to be anything except a tattered cyclone of anger—but Triton yanked him back down, making his butt hit the step with a painful smack.

Triton's hand slid down to Percy's limp wrist, his grip firm, almost crushing. He seemed to be trying to meet Percy's eyes, but Percy stared at the ground, refusing to look.

"You're my little brother," Triton said, "No matter what. Whether you dye your hair bright blue or drop out of school or tongue other guys, I'm always gonna do my best to look after you. So if Dad gives you any trouble, I'm gonna be on your side. Just one fucking peep from him and you tell me, okay?"

Triton let his wrist go. Slightly in shock, Percy rubbed the sore skin, now braceleted with fresh, white finger-shaped marks.

"You can go now." Triton folded his arms over his chest and curved in on himself. "Sorry I kept you," he grumbled.

Percy surprised himself by staying right where he was. A fuzzy memory played at the back of his mind, years ago when he was Tyson's age. He'd been getting teased about his dyslexia and a ten year old Triton had stepped in and thrown a punch at the bully. He couldn't remember the details exactly. They didn't seem important either.

"You don't think I'm gross?" Percy asked, quiet as an exhale.

"When you leave your filthy clothes lying around, yeah." Triton rustled his shoulders. "Not because you're gay."

"Oh," Percy said. "Okay."

And Percy didn't know what else to do. He felt tons lighter though. The crisp morning air sent a shiver down his arms and a sudden gust ruffled their black hair in unison.

"You should get to bed," Triton told him, a sliver of a grin curving his mouth. "You might even get a whole hour of sleep."

For once, Percy didn't feel a surge of annoyance at being told what to do. He stood up and Triton watched him with ocean blue eyes, the waters calm and gentle.

Percy felt the weirdest compulsion to hug his brother. Must've been the exhaustion or something. Percy held himself back because he was too old for that, and then he thought of Tyson for no reason, snoozing on a beanbag somewhere upstairs, and he had to swipe his palm over the corner of his eye. It'd suddenly gotten wet.

He turned and went back in.