Three AM

A/N: Hey, so I heard it's PJO ship week. I'm going to try my best to write for the ship week, and this week it's Sally/Poseidon or Sally/Paul. I've written Sally/Poseidon, so I figured, why not Sally/Paul? I find these two absolutely adorable. This takes place in the Heroes of Olympus series, after the Lost Hero/Son of Neptune. I imagine these two just simply wanting to be with each other, after long stressful days. Not a lot of dialogue, but I promise the fic will be fluffy enough.

Her pencil dances and skids across the paper she's been working on for two hours. Inspiration has escaped her until now, ever since she sat down at roughly one in the morning to write, as the day has been spent worrying about Percy. Her inspiration came from the night, from the quiet creaks of their building settling, the occasional car horn blasting on the street. She's written nearly three pages now, and was working on her fourth. But now, it's 3 in the morning, EST, and Sally Jackson is exhausted.

It's January, 2013, and her son is still on a dangerous quest to save the world, as always. Having found out he was alive nearly killed her, but when he told her, over Iris messaging, that he had to leave for another super dangerous quest, it broke her heart. She knew in her heart she couldn't prevent him from doing it, as she knew he would simply find a way to do it anyway. He is like his father, after all. Barely being able to hold it together, she had only smiled and told her son she loved him, like always. He's sent her silly photos of him on a sort of boat, with friends of his. The photos made her happy, knowing her son had friends with him as he embarks on this task, but it hurt just the same, knowing her son might not come back. She didn't like to to think that possibility.

Her eyesight begins to fail her, having been staring at the notepad for awhile now, and she finally sighs, setting down her pencil. She runs a hand through her now greying hair, the locks loose and flowing down her shoulders. She wraps her blue robe closer around her, shielding herself from the chill, and looks over at the clock on her desk. 3:15 AM. Her thoughts were a jumble of ideas and events that have or haven't happened in her life, and sometimes, she isn't sure which ones are real and which ones aren't. Her life is being spent writing fiction, when she knew perfectly well her life could be a piece of fiction written by a fantasy author. Sometimes, when the awful moments and the high tides came along, she wonders if her life really was a book, and that the author just enjoyed torturing her.

Groaning softly, she stands up from her chair, to make her way into the kitchen. She looks back to the bedroom nearby, and smiles when she hears the snores that come from Paul Blofis, her now current husband. She smiles as she recalls the sensation of his arms around her, and she shuts off the lamp. Navigating her way in the darkness, she manages to make it into the kitchen without breaking anything. Turning on the microwave light that illuminates the stove, she pauses to look out into New York City. The City That Never Sleeps. To know that almost three years ago, her son had saved the world from Titans, and she herself had shot a monster, a dracanae. That was the first time she ever held a shotgun. And she remembers the joy on Paul's face, as he dances with death, sword fighting he didn't see. That moment, she knew, is that moment where she fell deeper in love with him then ever before. He didn't see what she saw, and couldn't ever see it, but for her sake and for Percy's, he would fight it and defend them, no matter what.

Watching the city glimmer and glow in the night, she looks up into the stars, trying to make out constellations, though knowing very well that due to the pollution, you couldn't see any of them. She looks into the stars, and connected a few dots, and seeing the regular constellations. The Big Dipper, Orion, and even Sirius, the dog star. The star shined brighter then ever. She allows herself a chuckle, to remember Mrs O'Leary tearing up her kitchen. Though the dog was huge, or Percy called it, a hell hound, she had smiled and accepted it. Laughing at the memory of Paul's expression when they told him about her, she heads over to the cabinet opposite the window. Opening it with the dim lighting, she pulls out the jar for hot chocolate.

Mixing the light brown powder with some milk, she heats it in a pan, vaguely remembering herself doing this for her uncle when he couldn't sleep at nights. She's always had a soft spot for hot chocolate, she supposes. Once it is done, she pours the mixture into her favorite mug, a blue mug from Percy, and takes a soft sip, inhaling deeply as she did. The sweet scent of chocolate, milk and the heat warms her right up, and she groans softly in happiness, remembering the times when she would make this for Percy and he would enjoy it just as much as she did. She stands there in her kitchen for a few minutes, smiling to herself as she allows herself to reminisce on the past, when happiness would be fleeting. She closes her eyes a moment, to remember the day when Poseidon had met her, the way his arms had wrapped around her waist and held her tightly, like no one in the world would ever hurt her.

She thinks for a moment she is in her memory, feeling his arms around her waist, the salty smell of the ocean filling her nose. The wind making her hair fly off her shoulders and behind her. She believes, for a moment, she is back with Poseidon, before realizing her eyes are open. She is not staring at the everlasting ocean, but into the deep night. And the arms that are around her are not Poseidon's, but as she turns her head to look, her lips are met with a pair of another, soft and sweet. Paul.

"Hi."

"Hi."

They are both quiet for a moment, as Paul turns her body to face his, and taking her hot chocolate and setting it on the counter. He smiles, kissing her cheek softly, as he holds her close, feeling infinite beside her. Sally Jackson was truly his queen. He rests his forehead against hers, both of them unknowing that the others lips were curved into a gentle smile. Paul pulls away after a few precious moments, much to Sally's discontent, and caresses her cheek. She doesn't say anything as he pushes a few strands away from her face and kisses her lips again quickly. Without another word, they don't even need words at this time, he scoops her into his arms, and she transfers her weight into his arms. Laughing gently, Sally rests her head against his shoulder as he carries her to their bed and gently lays her on the soft mattress. Tucking her in, he kisses her forehead again, and making sure her head is well supported. Before he could even kiss her goodnight, she is asleep. Chuckling, he glances at the clock again. 3:30 AM.

Leaving her there for a bit, he goes back to the kitchen and takes the hot chocolate that was left behind, and takes a sip, the sweet and bitter flavors dancing on his tongue. Smiling, he walks back to the bedroom and watches her sleep, watching her face as peaceful as could be. There was something nice about watching your loved one sleep, as if they were in a world no one could touch, where they could dream about what they deserved. Paul especially liked it when she was like this, curled up and snuggled into the pillow, unaware at all. He loved Sally Jackson. He still does. She deserved a king, a poet, a prince, the finest man in the world. And though he knows he isn't even coming close to what she deserves, he knows he is privileged enough for her to love him.

Finishing the hot chocolate, he sets the mug down on the desk, and manages to crawl in beside her without disturbing her. Smiling, he kisses her forehead again, and wraps his arms around her. He feels her arms unconsciously latch themselves onto his body, pulling herself closer to him, and with that, he finds himself falling into deep sleep, and in a deeper love with his wife, Sally Jackson. One he doesn't deserve, but she chose him, and that is all he could ask of this world.