AN: For the first ever Veritaville Winter Exchange Fic. Here you go, Ave. I got you.
It doesn't help when he manages to set the table on fire either.
Okay fine, let's rewind back to the start of this mess. Or maybe we should take care of the fire first? I mean seriously: look at all that beautiful food burning away in the flames. All those wonderful subs. I went to Subway for a reason and not Quiznos because I'm not a fan of toasted subs or melted cheese. I think we should salvage them. It's okay to eat things that have been set on fire from methane gas and dishwater soap, right?
Right. Sorry. The beginning:
I knew Christmas at my place would be a bad idea. Let's not kid ourselves, I mean does anyone know who I am? Bad luck follows me around like photosynthesis in a plant cell. I know that's not the best analogy, but I'm taking biology, and trying to use what I learn. Anyway, yeah, I have some issues with creating good outcomes. Honestly. When I was thirteen I found out that the chances of me living past the age of sixteen was not in my favor. Then when I was sixteen I found out that Western Civilization depended on my death. Somehow I managed to survive that, but for awhile it wasn't looking so good.
I mean, and it's not like that was that good or anything. Like twelve minutes later my best friend got possessed by the force of the Oracle of Delphi and foretold the next prophecy of doom.
It's stuff like that makes me wonder how drunk the Fates were when they were planning out my life. Actually, I'm betting that their boyfriends dumped them, and they were all like, "boys are stupid! Let's just make this one's life miserable because we can." At least that's how I picture it went.
I'm practically inclined to say that the Fates have something against males. Looking at all the guys I know haven't had a walk in the park life. Nico: trapped into a hotel for decades after mother dies, then only living relative dies. Grover: finally finds the long lost god, Pan. Said god expires before his eyes. Tyson: left to live on the streets. Luke: I don't even need to explain this one.
I'm just saying, that's all.
Still though, my mom completely dismissed the whole Everything-Percy-Attempts-To-Do-Does-Not-Turn-Up-Well, and the fact that I am a boy, and was all like, "your friends should come over for Christmas. You're all practically family anyway."
Although she meant that we were so close we practically family, we were technically family due to all the gods being related to each other. Which is something I prefer not to think about because it makes spending time with my girlfriend, Annabeth a little more awkward than necessary. Apparently god-DNA doesn't count or anything. Biology class definitely doesn't teach that part.
Everything was going fine for the first half of the day. The food was cooking in the oven, and it was mom's cooking so I knew it would be excellent, I hadn't wanted to rip the hair off of Thalia's head yet, Nico hadn't done anything completely weird that made the room feel uncomfortable, Tyson had not punched a whole through the wall to greet the neighbors like usual, Rachel and Annabeth were getting along, Grover had only taking a few bites out of the granite counter in the bathroom.
Then came the presents.
Yes, presents ruined everything.
Well they were more of the catalyst (like enzymes) in the situation.
I thought it would be a good idea to just do a Secret Santa-type thing, mostly because I am poor, and I suck at giving presents to anyone who isn't my mom, who will like anything I give her because she's my mom and a nice person.
But my mom thought that was a thoughtless idea so I couldn't.
First it started like this:
"We were supposed get presents?" Nico asked as if the idea had never occurred to him. I would think that you automatically think that at a Christmas celebration, presents were mandatory, but hey, I don't know what they did in the 1930's.
"I spend my life in the wilderness, how was I supposed to bring gifts?" Thalia questioned, looking at me disdainfully because of course when Thalia does something wrong it isn't her fault, it's mine. Typical.
My mom shook it. "Oh it's fine. Don't worry about."
This is the part where I admit—albeit shamefully—that I really didn't get anyone presents. I let my mom pick them out, and wrapped them. I know, I know. I am an awful friend, but I really don't have the capability of picking out individual things that have any meaning to them. But on the plus side, Annabeth really liked the bracelet I gave the money for my mom to buy at Tiffany. It's a win-win situation, really.
She liked it, anyway.
"Oh, hmm. This one's from Percy, I hope you kept the sale's slip." Thalia said, handing the box to Nico.
"Gee thanks for the vote of confidence. At least I got presents unlike someone."
"Well maybe if somebody told someone that there was something we were supposed to bring, then I would have-"
"Shut up," Rachel said, semi-annoyed. It was probably a good idea to not fight. The whole room's atmosphere was sort of prickly thanks to us. Well to be honest, I don't think Nico is actually one to like being at parties. He wasn't extremely fond of being forced to spend time with them, but he was happy about the fedoras. Really, the fedora was the only good part about this whole situation.
Hold on. I'll rewind:
Nico got a fedora. Yes one of those old fashioned hats. My mom bought-Nico di Angelo, son of Hades, the kid that hangs out with ghosts, that would rather be with an army of the dead than the nicer souls of the living, the person I would choose to be the first inductee of the Creeper Hall of Fame—a fedora.
And he liked it.
My life is weird. That is an accepted statement. It's not a hypothesis, not a theory. This thing has been tested under many different trials and proved true every single time. But I never thought I would see that happen because that is just too weird.
"I used to always want to wear one of these when I was kid," was the explanation that he used. I wasn't going to fight it.
I reluctantly handed over my present to Thalia. I don't know what my mom had gotten her for me, but I knew she wouldn't like just because it had my name on it.
I think the whole room might have been holding its breath. I knew I was.
"Well this one should be awful." She said, scrutinizing the package. See what I mean? She already didn't like it, and she didn't even open it.
I know I should just have stayed quiet, and let her insult as much as she pleased. It's Christmastime. Everyone is supposed to be nice, and just let thing go.
I don't. Ever.
"Yeah, well I really liked your gift."
"My gift to you is my presence," she put simply, casually undoing the bow the clerk no doubt had wrapped the gift up in.
"Can I return it?"
"Percy!" Mom my disciplined. Although it was unnecessary. Annabeth had jabbed me in the ribs pretty hard with her elbow.
Slowly, Thalia was tearing through the wrapping paper. "And I thought you said you liked my gift. I didn't realize that you were a liar."
This is how we ended up eating subs instead of the dinner my mom was making:
"Thalia!" Annabeth scolded looking at her incredulously.
Rachel and Nico held me back. Grover, I noticed, was getting nervous due to the fighting, and had taken an unfortunate large bite out of the table. Paul eyed the sight sadly. He really had spent a long time painting the table.
Of course the burning smell made us temporarily forget about the battle royale that we were about to break out into.
"The food!" My mom cried, and went to survey the damage. It was bad. Really bad. Which is why we broke out the dish soap. To be exact it was Dawn, just in case you like the details. I felt partially responsible for the damage, so I took to help cleaning. Everyone joined in, but my mom seemed pretty bummed out because her whole feast was ruined.
"I'll go get us some subs," Paul had decided. "I'm sure there open."
So we had subs. The good ones. Not exactly up to par with Sally Jackson's cooking, but we had to make due with what we had.
My mom was still oven by the oven scrubbing away.
This is how the food caught on fire (for the second time):
About three things I was absolutely certain. Firstly, I was hungry. Secondly, there was a part of me-and I wasn't sure how dominant that part was-that really thought my stomach could handle eating four foot-long subs in one sitting. And thirdly, I was absolutely going to attempt to do it anyways, laws of nature be damned.
"I guess we can just dig in. C'mon Sally. The cleaning can wait." Paul tried, but my mom replied with a "in a minute".
Looking less than impressed with her turkey and lettuce (with a side of mayo because apparently she didn't approve of the amount the workers put on by themselves) spoke up, "well this is fun, isn't it?" Only she directed it at me.
I don't really understand what our problem is. We can get along more than fine somedays, but other days, we're ready to kill each other.
No one was going to hold me back this time. I got out of my chair, and stood right up against her face. At one time, Thalia was taller than me, but the thing was once you stop aging, you stop growing. I did not and she did. Now I was taller.
She can be very intimidating person. Her gaze could in itself scare the living crap out of you, but I'm past that stage in my life.
My anger was apparently taking itself out on the water of the room.
"Percy stop that!" My mom warned. Her water mixed with the dish soap started to expand, and she was not to happy about it. Although at the time it seemed irrelevant, I noticed that the stove was still on.
The gas stove, I might add.
Thalia's anger was clearly showing its bad self too. The lighting was flickering on and off.
"Both of you, stop it!" My mom warned again.
"Oh yeah, Thalia, this is just a box of kittens. You know what would be even more fun? If you had just stayed away with your merry band of hunters."
This set her off enough. I had to dodge, but I knew Thalia's fighting methods good enough. Also if I didn't, my face would have been barbequed by lightning. Instead the candles my mom had so nicely decorated the house with so the room would smell like gingerbread and peppermint got the full blast.
And at the same time my rash movement had thrown the soapy water on the gas stove. Which had been greeted by some flames from the fire.
I had not learned about this in biology but Google explained this well enough:
Take methane, add soapy water, get flames. It's actually really cool. Apparently you can hold fire when you do this, but this was not a science experiment.
This was actual flames spreading and demolishing our food and most of my kitchen.
Just my luck.
AN: Honestly the worst Christmas present I have ever given.
Fun fact: you can actually hold fire if you make bubbles from soap water if you do it with methane. I did it in chem class on Faraday Fair Day. Although according to Ms. Jay, I'm obliged to tell you not to attempt this at home.
Prompts used:
i-It doesn't help when he manages to set the table on fire either.
ii-about three things I was absolutely certain. Firstly, I was hungry. Secondly, there was a part of me-and I wasn't sure how dominant that part was-that really thought my stomach could handle eating four foot-long subs in one sitting. And thirdly, I was absolutely going to attempt to do it anyways, laws of nature be damned.
iii-He wasn't extremely fond of being forced to spend time with them, but he was happy about the fedoras. Really, the fedora was the only good part about this whole situation.