Disclaimer: I do not own the amazing Percy Jackson world, and most certainly do not own Hazel and Frank! Nor Apple.

Author's Note: Hi guys. So this one-shot had been nothing but a sad half-written little thing sitting in my pile of laptop documents for a couple of months now, but yesterday I decided to finish it. I stayed up until almost 4am writing and editing and I'm pretty happy how it turned out. HOPE THESE BAGS UNDER MY EYES ARE WORTH IT GUYS AHHH


** IMPORTANT: Some things you should know before diving into this fic:-

1) This story implies that Hazel and Frank live together in a house. Ok so although that is what it implies, I did not create a backstory about this, so you're free to use your imagination, like uhhh maybe one of them is staying over at one's place, etc...?

2) The world of gods and monsters and all that stuff still exist in this story, though it is not directly involved—there are only some references about past battles, wars, etc.

3) Yes, Hazel and Frank are STILL demigods, intact with all their powers, blah blah, etc. No change yay!

4) It is implied that Hazel and Frank are a couple, but again, I didn't write a backstory about their current 'relationship status', so you can also use your imagination for this too!

5) Yes, there's an appearance of an iPhone in this story, and yES I'm aware that cell phones are monster-magnets for demigods and all that, but hear me out—I wrote the iPhone bit before I remembered this little fact, *sniffs* and I liked it a little too much to cut out the idea, so I just hope you let that one slide, guys! *monkey covering eyes emoji*

That is all woo! ENJOY


Frank & Hazel Go Breakfast-Hunting

"Hazel! We got a problem," Frank Zhang yelled from the kitchen one Sunday morning in a voice filled with such horror one might instantly think of the worst case scenarios for causing it—did he find a dead body rotting in the fridge with a sword buried up to its hilt in its chest? Was there a masked burglar in the house, demanding cash and valuables while waving a threatening cleaver knives in the air? Or perhaps there was a gigantic cobra hissing in the kitchen sink, venomous fangs bared and ready to be sunk into juicy human flesh?

"Wait, don't tell me," an amused voice rang down from upstairs. It was followed by thudding noises, indicating it's owner's descend down the staircase. "Out of bacon and eggs again, are we?"

"Yes," Frank called back dejectedly, shoulders slumped. He let the door swing shut with a sad thump. He turned around just as his best friend entered the kitchen.

Hazel paused at the doorway and leaned against it. Hand on one hip, she replied teasingly in her best mom-like voice, "Now, young man, didn't I say something about alternating bacon-and-eggs mornings so we can make it last throughout the week?"

Frank's eyes automatically lit up at her presence. Without missing a beat, though, he shot back, just as teasingly, "Oh, I wouldn't use that tone, if I were you. We're out of milk again."

"You're kidding," Hazel exclaimed, strode over to the fridge and yanked it open. She pulled out the small milk jug and shook it—it was empty. She tossed the container into the sink and went over to plop onto a wooden chair. "This sucks. I can't have a cereal breakfast without milk, too weird."

Frank nodded. "'Time for another trip to the store, do you think? We're running really low on food."

"I guess so. We're due for another supermarket run anyway, right?" Hazel hopped off the stool and stretched like a cat, yawning.

"Uh, yeah," he replied, suddenly distracted. Instantly, his hunger evaporated. It was quickly replaced by a warm feeling that spread from his chest to his fingertips as he stared at his best friend. A slow grin slipped involuntarily onto his face. He couldn't help himself.

She looked so adorable.

Unlike Frank, who was already dressed for the day in a cotton hoodie and jeans, Hazel still donned her PJs: one of his enormous T-shirts, some checkered sleep shorts and blue socks. The black shirt had some kind of faded logo emblazoned across the front. It was about five sizes too big on her, which, ultimately, did nothing but made her look even cuter, if that was possible. The sleeves went all the way past her elbows, and the shirt hem reached mid-thigh, so her shorts barely peeked out underneath, exposing her long, caramel legs. They were littered with faint battle scars.

"Frank, what are you looking at?" Hazel laughed, cheeks hot. She hastily shoved a lock of hair that had fallen into her eyes behind her ear, though her cinnamon brown locks still undoubtedly resembled a bird's nest. They hung in wild, frizzy tangles all around her face, and was sticking up completely on one side of her head, as if defying gravity.

"You," he laughed, grinning wider, not even bothering to pretend he hadn't been staring. Instead of waiting for her reply, he marched over to her, pecked her once on the cheek, and made a dash for it upstairs, leaving a very surprised—but pleasantly pleased—Hazel Levesque standing in the middle of the kitchen.

"Hurry and get dressed! I'm starving," he cheekily called down.

Hazel grinned.


"Do you think this is too much food?'' Hazel glanced into the trolley, though her tone was dubious. Somewhere in the huge rubble of eatables, two cartons of milk, a huge pack of bacon and some eggs (these were placed safely on top) sat in the loaded cart.

Frank was manning the shopping cart, making it glide easily along the tiled floor despite its weight. He answered confidently, giving her a knowing nudge. "Nah."

''Didn't think so,'' she stifled a laugh. Frank had a hearty appetite, and also, she'd proudly admit, so did she.

''We're almost done, though, I think. Anything else we nee—''

''My cereal! We're out too,'' Hazel cried out suddenly in surprise. ''Gods, how could I have forgotten?'' Breaking into a run, Hazel sped past Frank in burst of dark flying hair and pumping legs and disappeared around a corner, determined to hunt down and replenish her usual supply of cornflakes.

She sure has the energy for someone with an empty stomach, Frank thought with an air of amusement, shaking his head. Hurriedly, he tore after her, maneuvering the trolley with increasing speed that would've probably been fatal if it wasn't for the nonexistent presence of people in the store.

Thirty seconds and an almost-accident involving crashing into a tower of discounted canned tuna later, Frank found Hazel in the 'All Cereals' aisle.

She was squinting up at something, one hand on her chin and one perched on her hip.

''Hey." he panted, halting the trolley beside her. "Found it?''

''Yes, but it's way up there,'' she groaned. ''Can you reach it?''

Frank followed her gaze all the way to the highest shelf, where the cornflakes were kept. He was much taller than Hazel; he gave it a go. He stood on his tiptoes and stretched out his arm as much as he possibly could. Hazel called out encouragements as his face scrunched up in concentration. He splayed out a his fingers as far as possible, attempting to flick the box off the shelf, but unfortunately, it was about an inch out of his reach.

''Sorry, Haze,'' Frank breathed, rocking back onto his heels. He looked up and down the long aisle. There weren't any ladders or step-stools in sight. ''Maybe we can get someone to…?''

''I looked, there's no one here,'' Hazel sighed. She glanced up at the brightly-colored boxes sadly and as if indignantly, her stomach decided to let out a loud growl. So close, yet so far...

''Don't you worry, we'll get your cereal,'' Frank's said firmly, giving Hazel's tummy a quick pat and then turning back towards the shelf.

She blushed at the contact but then quickly pushed the feeling aside. Hungry! Food! Focus, Hazel! She pursed her lips, murmuring absently, "We need a plan… If only one of us could fly or something...''

''YES THAT'S IT!'' Frank shouted gleefully, making Hazel jump.

She blinked. Oh. Her eyes widened upon realizing what he meant (or, well, what she had meant, actually, but hadn't known it yet at the moment).

''Oh, this will be cool! A bird? Will you be a bird?'' she asked, her golden eyes glinting excitedly like actual bars of gold.

''Pigeon,'' Frank said, nodding. "I'll be a pigeon." He was about to start the whole transforming thing when his best friend interrupted.

''Wait!'' Hazel reached into Frank's jeans pocket and fished out his iPhone. He looked at her questioningly, slightly alarmed.

"Okay. You said you've always wanted to see how you looked like when you transformed, right? Well, we can take one of those magic moving photos thingies on your phone!" she said earnestly. "Just like when you showed me the other day. Now's the perfect chance!''

"You mean a video?" Frank smirked. How adorable is she?

"Yeah, okay, video," Hazel dragged out the vowels in the word, rolling her eyes playfully. Frank was always teasing her when she couldn't remember the modern lingo and technology stuff people used nowadays.

Frank helped her open the Camera App, set it to Video Mode and told her to hit the red button when wanted to start recording. When he was ready, he gave her a thumbs up and then there was a little pling! sound, signaling the start of the recording.

Frank then began to channel all his concentration into the image he already had in his mind—small, plump, grey. He saw those feathery wings, imagined them as his own, taking him upwards as he soared towards that tallest shelf.

Then boom. Ladies and gentlemen, Frank Zhang has turned into a pigeon.

Hazel laughed in delight, unable to contain her excitement, just like every time she watched Frank turn into an animal. She watched the little grey bird flutter up to the top shelf, landing delicately on one of the boxes.

While she ensured her camera was pointing the right way, Hazel flicked her eyes up and down the aisle, just to check if anybody was around. What the mortals would see through the Mist, she had no idea. Then, of course, seeing a pigeon in a supermarket wasn't all that weird, she decided, as that happened from time to time.

When she looked back up she saw the pigeon nudging the box with it's sharp orange beak in one swift movement. Before she knew it, the box was tipping over the edge and falling safely into her waiting arms.

''YESSS!'' Hazel cheered, ending the video. Frank The Human materialized beside her again, the pigeon now gone.

''Thanks, Frank,'' she laughed, a beautiful, musical sound to his ears. She clapped. ''That was freaking awesome!''

Flushing, Frank bowed formally. ''Anything for you, milady.''

Hazel laughed again, dropping the cereal into the cart before wrapping her arms around Frank's neck.

He turned even redder, smiling as she leaned in and kissed him.


"My tummy is happy," Hazel announced loudly, setting down her spoon. She picked up her bowl of leftover sugary milk and held it up for a toast. "To us, for finally being fed and watered with cereal and milk and bacon and eggs and juice and no longer starving!"

"To us," Frank laughed and lay his fork on his plate, now empty and greasy. He clinked his glass of orange juice (he was lactose intolerant) against Hazel's porcelain bowl. They sipped, and then leaned back in their chairs contentedly.

That was when Frank remembered the video.

"Hey, I wonder how that recording turned out." He blinked the sudden drowsiness away, took out his phone, found the video. He beckoned Hazel to come over and they sat side-by-side at the kitchen counter, hunched expectantly over Frank's phone placed in the middle. He hit Play.

It was a complete fail. Well, OK, not completely. At first, the video started out alright: it showed Frank squeezing his eyes shut in concentration while Hazel's giggles could be heard somewhere in the background.

But then... it was just… static.

"Aw, man," Frank cried. Disappointing. Absolutely, utterly, undeniably disappointing. All he wanted was just to watch himself turn into a pigeon! Was that so hard?

"I guess technology and inherited godly powers don't go together, huh," Hazel sighed sadly, patting his arm.

"Ugh," Frank face-palmed. "Nice work, Steve Jobs."

"Who?"


A/N: Thanks for reading, please tell me what you think x