Hi! HAPPY BIRTHDAY PERCY JACKSON! Wowowow. He'd be 22 today, isn't that wild? The boy can drink anywhere in the world. I was considering writing a goofy and silly story in that vein to celebrate, but it's late and I ended up producing something deep- oops. I hope you enjoy it!

For the record Percy Jackson's Greek Heroes was published today and it's really good. If you're tight on money, Wal-Mart has them on sale. I'm proud of Uncle Rick for putting in female heroes, just as I'm proud of Percy for still being alive.

Disclaimer: I don't own the PJO world.

Grey

In fifty two years of marriage, Percy could count the amount of times Annabeth had let him sleep in on his fingers, and the amount of times that he'd woken up to the smell of her making breakfast on one hand only. This could only mean one thing. Either someone had died last night, or it was his birthday. He looked at the digital clock on his bedside table, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and checked the date.

Damn right, everyone was still alive!

The apartment smelled like blueberry pancakes and he heard bacon sizzling in a pan. His stomach immediately got up on its hind legs and begged. He loved his birthday.

He limped into the kitchen (there was a time in your life when you stopped healing right after monster attacks and your body started to become old and achy and wrinkly in places that you didn't think could get wrinkles) and wrapped an arm around Annabeth, who was already showered and dressed in jeans and a blue blouse he thought made her look better than usual. Her silvery hair was swept in a stylish chignon and her glasses were resting on the top of her head.

"Happy birthday," she said as soon as he wrapped an arm around her.

"Thank you," he kissed her cheek. "It smells amazing."

Annabeth nodded, prodding at the bacon with a fork. He was already drooling. Such a sucker for her cooking, which was such a treat.

"There's coffee made. You have time to shower if you like."

"Probably should before the kids get here," Percy said.

"We've got some time," Annabeth said.

He opted not to waste any of it and went to shower. On his way to the bedroom to collect clothes he stopped and starred at the walls. Especially since the kids had moved out, Annabeth had turned the apartment into a trendy space that could be described with fancy business words like "minimalistic" and "urban". Whatever, all he knew was that he wasn't allowed to leave socks in the living room or call the throw pillows stupid. But this wall full of pictures and framed finger-paint and wax crayon masterpiece was a gallery that had gone largely untouched since the kids were born, unless you counted exponential expansion.

Shadow boxes held the kids' baby pictures and their first hospital bracelets, as well as pictures of their high school graduation. There were awkward posed photos of Hector (affectionately called Tory), Atticus, and Lucy- but Percy's favourite were the cameo shots. The kids burying each other in the sand at the beach, or sleeping in a huddle in a blanket fort they'd insisted they'd pull an all-nighter in, or all bundled up and making snow forts in Central Park… There was a picture of Lucy's ear-splitting grin as Percy dangled her feet into the ocean for the first time, a shot of Hector as a two year old standing in Percy's work shoes, and even a picture of baby Atticus sitting on a pile of toilet paper he'd just completely unrolled onto the bathroom floor. And of course the grandkids were everywhere- their baby pictures, their first birthdays- heck, there was even a picture of Henry's first time eating ice cream, another of Arthur at camp, one of Abigail with curlers in her hair... all the things, all the little details, Percy couldn't help but ramble about whenever he met anybody new. My granddaughter is studying medicine, this is my youngest grandbaby look at this picture, guess what my son has a doctorate in he's got his mother's brain... He was sure he was annoying and that these pesky details didn't matter to anyone else, but was always so overwhelmingly proud...

The wall made Percy smile every time. If his memory was starting to slip away from him and get a little rough around the edges, at least every time he looked at the wall there was a new picture to smile fondly, reminisce about, or laugh at as he recalled Hector's first time sitting on the potty. It also made him even more excited for supper.

After breakfast as they put away the dishes Annabeth caught him by the waist and started fixing the buttons on his shirt- he'd buttoned them unevenly.

"You always do that when you're excited," Annabeth told him.

"It's my birthday, of course I was," Percy shrugged.

"Giant five year old," she said with a smile.

"I think I'm a bit far from that," Percy said. "Have you seen all the grey in this hair?"

"How could I miss it," Annabeth said putting her hands on his chest as she finished buttoning. "And it's all very cute, so don't you worry."

The day went by nicely with phone calls from California and Washington DC and Nashville and Portland and San Juan and everywhere else his friends had ended up. Chiron even let his siblings in Cabin Three call Percy and sing happy birthday on the office phone- he even heard Mr D wailing "isn't that boy dead yet" in the background, and the fact that Mr D remembered that it was his birthday was oddly touching. Annabeth leaned against him on the couch and patiently sat through a Jaws marathon with him without even pointing out a single flaw in behaviourism or science (though she did offer to go grab Cokes from the fridge as an excuse when she got too frustrated- and then she made sandwiches, found some chips, did all the dishes –twice-, got more Coke…) They took the Tupperware bin of Legos and a dollhouse out of the wardrobe in preparation for the avalanche of grandkids that was to come, and he heard Annabeth locking herself in the bathroom and ordering pizza- trying to make it a surprise like she did every year.

Seventy-five years, that would be now. Of course, Annabeth hadn't watched Jaws and fed him pizza every one of those- but the number was still flagrant, and he was mouthing it to himself and shaking his head at the pure nonsense of it all day. Seventy-five years...

When everyone swung by for supper, Percy was ecstatic despite being in the center of a swarm. Delilah, resident two year old, had made him a card and Percy let her direct where on the fridge he should put it. Blaire had driven down from college, which surprised Percy since t felt like ages since he'd seen his first grandbaby. He relieved Lucy of baby Rosemary so she could go bring a paper box that clearly contained cake to the kitchen. Rosemary (a legacy of Poseidon and Athena and a daughter of Hermes- good lucky world) happily snoozed in his arms as Abigail and Henry and Arthur played make-believe with the Legos and the dollhouse while bombarding him with news. I lost a tooth, my best friend got a dog, my class went to the fire station and I sat in a fire truck, I know what I want for Christmas already. Before joining her cousins and brother, Daisy signed happy birthday grandpa in sign language for him- a sign Atticus had taught Percy weeks ago when his daughter had first learned it, so that Percy would know she'd practised hard and could respond with thank you and a big hug.

It was a bit chaotic and crowded in the apartment, but what could you do?

Hector had gotten a raise and his wife Jessica's shop was doing better than ever. David and Atticus laughed as they talked about going to San Francisco to celebrate their fifth anniversary (Percy and Annabeth immediately agreed to babysit Arthur and Daisy, but unfortunately David's mother had already dibsed). Lucy was back at work, supervising aircraft maintenance for the air force, and she was happy despite the constant flow of poopy diapers and a confrontation at a supermarket the other day when a woman had called her a horrible mother for buying formula- when she told the story it sounded funny, she made voices and everything, but Percy was secretly seething. He knew that that must have hit a sensitive chord somewhere.

"Enough about us, let's talk about you," Lucy said. "Wow, Dad. Seventy-five..."

"And counting," Percy said knocking on the wooden table. Shit, this was the kind of cliché thing that Paul or Frederic Chase would have done. He was turning into an old dude. The thought made him smile. Now he was challenging himself to hold on until eighty. He could be a really old dude then. So old, his teeth would fall out and he'd have to blend the pizza to be able to eat it. Okay, no, that was gross. Annabeth would figure something out, of course- because she'd be making it to eighty-five, big minimum.

"How's your leg?" Atticus asked.

"Did you drive up to camp like you meant to last weekend?" Hector added.

"Have you guys been drinking Coke again? The doctor said to watch your sugar…"

And so on and so on and so on, with questions about Blaire's college and various tantrums thrown into the mix- until the pizza arrived. When the boxes were empty and everyone was content, Annabeth disappeared into the kitchen and came out with a cake frosted in blue and white icing. Henry, five years old, climbed onto Percy's lap while they sang happy birthday. Percy blew out his candles as his family cheered, but couldn't think of anything to wish for.

"Grandpa you don't have enough candles on your cake," Abigail said pointing to the lone blue candle.

Daisy nodded frantically and signed something quickly. Percy was still learning, but he managed to understand wish and worried, which he figured wasn't all that bad since David picked her up and whispered in her ear that "No, Grandpa will still get his wish honey it's okay."

"It's because Grandma couldn't find enough candles," Annabeth said, handing Percy a knife so he could start cutting and dishing out pieces. "Not in the entire city!"

The grandkids laughed at that.

"Grandpa, you're getting old!" Henry chimed in.

"Yup," Percy said. "And I'm loving every second of it."

"I don't want to be old," Henry said. "I'm not like you. When I'm old I won't even remember what dinosaurs looked like. I'm just going to be grey."

Percy smiled and looked at how overcrowded the kitchen was- just to seat the family properly, they'd had to drag Annabeth's work chair from her office, and sit the kids at the coffee table and perch Delilah on a pile of books, and Atticus was still standing. His three kids were all grown up and he'd been lucky enough to see every second of it go by. Some of his grandchildren had his eyes and others had Annabeth's nose or curls. With any luck, he'd be able to see every second of their lives too. Or at least a chunk of it. These were all small luxuries, little gifts that fate technically hadn't owed Percy. He'd never thought that he'd measure his life in anything, but here he was, proudly declaring three quarters of a century. That's right hellhounds and drakons and Titans and giants and gorgons and gods and spirits and daemons and I don't remember what else anymore.

"Being old is cool," Percy said. "It means you were young once. It means you got lots of birthdays. It means you're still around. It's like a treasure, you know? As if you have lots of medals around your neck."

Henry pouted and thought of this carefully. However Annabeth stiffened up and then relaxed into a smile, while all of their children looked at him understandingly and David, a son of Apollo who'd had some pretty wild quests himself, grew very still and nodded.

"Nah," Henry said finally. He was too young -good!- and too innocent to know about the trials of heroism and ichor. His stance on the situation could be resumed to: "I wouldn't look good in grey."

"Of course you would," Percy said. "It runs in the family. And don't I look good right now?"

"That you do Seaweed Brain," Annabeth said kissing the top of his head. "Although by next year you may not have any hair. Or teeth."

"EWE!" Abigail said. "Like a worm!"

"Now don't you think that was under the belt?" Percy asked.

Annabeth smiled, and the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes seemed to multiply. Another gift that Percy couldn't believe his luck about: out of these seventy five years, so many had been spent with her. That made them worth it, these birthdays. All these years he'd fought tooth and eye for would be nothing without all the work and all the stress and all the love and fighting that had led to this exact, perfect moment in time.

Hector raised his glass. "To birthdays," he said.

The grandkids grabbed their juice boxes and the kids raised an amalgam of soda cans and wine glasses. "To birthdays."