Chapter 1: Where Allen Get's Some Revenge

Summary: Allen West was just a regular seventeen year old. If being the son to a famous record producer and stepson to Manhattan's top lawyer was regular, then yeah. He never dreamed that he would be anything other than "the West's kid"... Until he got sent to Camp Half Blood and met Nico di Angelo. Nico's dark attitude only makes a never out spoken Allen, try hard to come out of his own little world. OC/Nico YAOI; don't like, don't read.

Warning: This is a slash fic (only because I can't justify that Nico IS gay, but there's no proof that he ISN'T gay either) filled with, sexual content, mentions of MPreg, and frequent swearing. Most of the demigod's ages have been bumped up. Nico and Jason are a bit AU, but it fits so I won't change them. Oh, there will be a lemon.

Rating: M for a reason (thought I don't really agree with that rating, I will follow it so I won't get into trouble)

Author's Note: This takes place in a time where everyone was temporally at ease. Let's just pretend that the whole world was happy for a few years and the Mark of Athena hasn't come to play yet. Percy has been taken back to Camp Half-Blood after his residence at Camp Jupiter, but Jason has stuck around for no reason other than it works for my story purposes... I'll get to all of that soon when Allen actually goes to camp.

Reviews, praise, and constructive criticism appreciated. Flames will be laughed at.

P.S. MegaNerd3000 co-wrote this.. sort of... if standing over my shoulder, telling me that I have to type faster counts as co-writing, then sure.

Disclaimer: Ryanabeth H. Deveroux does not own Percy Jackson and will not make and profit from writing this story. If she did, there would be a WHOLE lot of changes *grins evilly*

Allen West stood in front of the full length mirror in his bathroom and stared at himself. Honestly, he thought he would have grown up and out of this petite little frame, he was seventeen after all.

He was short, five foot four, though everyone in his father's family was tall. He kept his body in shape and had some muscles, but he was just too skinny. His stepmother often told him he had a feminine body. Yes, he admitted that his face wasn't as manly as his father's was at this age and he had yet to grow facial hair, but he did not look like a girl. He had prominent cheek bones and a somewhat pointed jaw. His eyes, the only feature of his body that he actually liked, were a unique golden color. People told him that they had never seen eyes like his on anyone before, and he believed it. It was an odd color for eyes, but he loved them.

His long fingers were perfect for playing his piano, though they were far too girl-like; his hips too large. His hair was an odd color, not quite blond and not quite brown. It was like both colors were layered haphazardly on his head and it was a bastard to cut. He, in short, hated his body, but what could he do? He wasn't going to change it, not by a long shot.

His eyes were, in his mind, his best quality. Girls would watch him in the halls, if only for him to look back at them. He wasn't the most popular kid at Jefferson High, and liked to keep his head down. Regardless of this fact, little things he did kept getting him noticed. He was the only male in the school chorus that could pull a falsetto without having his voice crack, and had made fifth chair in the district wide orchestra. He didn't strive to be the best at these things, it was just what came naturally to him. Music was his life, and he guessed he could thank his father, Joshua West, for that.

His father was owner of West Records, and a famous music producer. Since Allen was little, his father had ground the essence of music into his very being, saying that one day, Allen would take the family business. Because of his father, Allen had began taking piano lessons since age four and was passionate about it. Voice lessons came soon after and Allen was urged to respect and value everything about music; to eat, sleep, breath, and live music. It came as a shock two years ago when his father had married a woman named Jenni Myron who had two children of her own and was a lawyer. His father had married a person with a job he had once called "boring and demeaning to the mind".

"Get out of the freaking bathroom, ass hole," a voice yelled from outside of the door, pulling Allen out of his morning ritual. Allen rolled his eyes and flushed the toilet to seem like he was doing something other than looking at himself.

"I was awake first, Ramsi. I get the big bathroom first," Allen yelled back. His stepbrother had a horrible temper in the mornings. Ramsi Myron was eighteen years old and a basketball player. He had detested the marriage since the beginning, saying that his mother could have done so much better than Joshua. They're marriage had been a sore topic for the two boys who had gone to the same high school and hadn't been friends in the first place.

"I don't give a damn. Just get the hell out!" Ramsi yelled, pushing at the door. Allen anticipated this and opened it right before Ramsi's shoulder hit the door. The result was Allen's laughter filling the room and a pissed off eighteen year old on the floor. Ramsi's highly muscled body made it almost seem like he was on steroids. His quick temper was usually paired with his Irish blood and orange-red hair.

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" Allen bolted out of the room at those words, Ramsi following close behind. He zig-zaged through the long hallway, trying to lose his stepbrother. He had the advantage as he had lived here with his father long before Ramsi, his mother, and his sister Brittney had moved in.

Allen had no such luck of shaking Ramsi off of his tail, the older boy wasn't the MVP of Jefferson High's basketball team for nothing. Allen's stunt ended with him flat on his back, as it did every morning he tried a bit of revenge against Ramsi. For three years the idiot had tormented Allen and for three years, Allen had done little things to get on his nerves. Since their parents had been married they had come to a compromise; Ramsi bombed Allen's reputation at school, while Allen screwed with him at home. It was a win-win situation.

"Allen? Allen! Are you alright?" Allen looked into the concerned green eyes of Brittney, his fourteen year old stepsister.

"I'm absolutely fine, Britt," he said, getting up from the floor and dusting himself off. "There are three bathrooms in this house, Ramsi. Why must you use the same one as I do in the morning?" he yelled down the hall. Brittney giggled as Ramsi opened the door chucked the finger at Allen. "That was uncalled for," he muttered. He motioned for Brittney to follow him and made his way down the stairs to the kitchen. Brittney settled down on a stool and looked at Allen expectantly.

"You haven't eaten yet?" he asked her. She smiled broadly and shook her head. "Do you expect me to do something about that?" holding back a laugh, she nodded. Everyone in the house knew that Allen liked to cook, and was good at it. Brittney especially liked the pancakes he made early in the mornings, just for her.

"Please?" she said, giving him puppy dog eyes. "I'll do the dishes after," she added. Sighing, Allen got out all the ingredients and set to work.

Soon, the house was filled with the flavorful aroma of blueberry pancakes. Brittney and Allen were just finishing off their portion of the pancakes when Jenni bolted down the steps.

"Mmm, pancakes," she said, sniffing the room. She was wearing her usual suit and her fiery red hair was just about tamed by thousands of bobby-pins. "Did you save some for your father?" she asked, giving Brittney a peck on the cheek and ruffling Allen's hair (much to his dismay).

"Yup. There's some in the microwave for him, and I packed your lunch," Allen said after shoveling down the last of his pancakes. He slid Jenni's lunch bag across the table to her and gave her a paper plate of pancakes.

"What would I do without you, Allen?" she asked, smiling and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"You'd probably starve," Allen called to her as she disappeared out of the door. That's how it was in the mornings. Allen usually made everyone breakfast and lunch, dinner was Jenni's job unless Joshua came home early. He liked to have that kind of responsibility and was good about keeping up with everyone. Allen was ever the early riser, so he was ready for his day before everyone was up.

"Alright, Britt, let's go," Allen cleared the plates into the sink while Brittney rinsed them and stuck them in the dish washer. Yeah, that was her idea of cleaning the dishes. They dashed around to grab their bags and raced each other into the car.

"Really, Allen? Go ahead, leave me here," Ramsi yelled from the front steps, as Allen had already pulled the car out onto the street. Hiding a smirk, Allen motioned for Ramsi to get in.

"I'm going to get you later for this," the older boy growled, slumping himself in the back seat. Brittney giggled at her older brother who's long legs were stuck behind her.

"Oh I know," Allen's face broke into a smirk, when Ramsi rhythmically thumped his leg against the driver's seat. "but I am allowed a bit of fun sometimes," he winked at Brittney who was now laughing. How he loved the mornings.

Author's Note: Well, here's the first chapter, I hope you liked it. I'm sorry that you had to sit through those boring character introductions and stuff, but that's just how it goes. You need an idea of how Allen's life was before things start getting really crazy.

Again, the whole Percy Jackson aspect of this story comes in later. Characters from Double Identity will be mentioned so read that story to see them in action :).