DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING BUT THE MORTALS, ALL OTHER CHARACTERS BELONG TO RICK RIORDAN.

Crap. Why do people keep on trying to hit at me? I'm a waitress after all, not a slut. I had gotten used to it after two or three years, but it was still uncomfortable, weird and, of course undesirable. I was just checking some tables if everything was okay when three guys walked in talking very loudly in a language that, first of all, I couldn't understand, and two, these people had the weirdest clothes I had ever seen. They were sooo twentieth century. Of course, I had this oh so good luck that they sat in one of my tables, so I approached them to listen what they wanted to. As I got nearer, I could see that they were way weirder than what I had first thought. One of them could make an UFC champion cry with just looking at him. He had red eyes, which looked as if they were almost in flames. The second one had a strange cellphone with two snakes tied to a little stick and his shoes had little wings that sprouted out of them. The last of them was GORGEOUS. I could bet he was any girls' type. He had a perfect blonde hair cut neatly at his sides, big blue or light blue eyes, and a perfect body and face shape. When I arrived at their side, I heard the most unexpected conversation.

'The most interesting other me is beating Mayweather in a street fight' the guy with red eyes said.

'You and your crappy war thing. Why don't you do something more relaxing, like on of the others me, who is dating a really cute mortal?' the gorgeous man said.

I had time enough to think about it. What the fuck is a mortal. I mean… everyone is a mortal right. And what the heck is, as they said, the other me? These guys must be on drugs or something, if not, there is no explanation.

The last one with the weird phone just said he was e-mailing his dad, since something like aiming (IM ing), had been cut off. They are probably joking, I will focus on my job, I told myself.

- Good, afternoon, what do you wish?

- Good afternoon…- the guy with blue eyes said looking for the name in my little sign- Leuconoe.

I'm pretty sure he stared some extra time at my shirt, but I didn't mind. He was being quite decent after all, and since he was hot I didn't bother THAT much. All I could see after he said my name was the other two guys holding their heads as if they had a headache.

- If you are wondering what´s going on, your name is roman, most known because one of my sons wrote a famous poem about her, but since their names are Hermes and Ares, which are Greek, they don't like Roman names. At least not now- he explained me.

- What do you mean…- I said to know his name.

-Apollo.

-Apollo. He can't possibly be your son. The one who wrote that is Horatio, a famous Ancient Rome poet. He lived like two thousand years ago.

-EXACTLY!- he nearly screamed- he was a poet right? And I am the god of poetry. And music. And the sun. And a whole lot of crappy things I'm too tired to mention.-

- Yeah, whatever. And those two over there are Ares, the war dude and Hermes the message god or something like that.

-OF COURSE WE ARE!- Hermes said

-I'M NO 'WAR DUDE', I am the War God, Ares. Or Mars'-

-Can't you shut up Ares? You will give me the worst headache ever with all of these Roman names!- Hermes said.

-Why don't you have headaches with Roman names?- I asked Apollo, not pretty sure what to think about all the Greek stuff.

-Oh! Easy, because I'm awesome. Nah, just joking. I mean, I do am awesome, but it's not because of that. It's because in my Roman or Greek form, my name is always Apollo, and I change in very few things, that´s why.

-Okay. Can you prove me you are really gods?- I asked expectantly.

- I start- Ares said, and, suddenly, his eyes were on fire while he did as he fell into an evil laughter.

-Where is Hermes?- I asked nervously.

They both answered me he had lots of work to do, as usual. In a blink of my eyes, Ares had left in a reddish mist which came out of nothing, and me and Apollo were left alone. I saw he was writing something on his napkin, and I realized he was writing a poem. I was really expectant on hearing some poetry of the god of it. After some seconds, he looked at me smiling – I was able to see his white perfect teeth- and started speaking.

I'm the awesome Apollo

Please, can you tell me babe

If I can have your number

I clapped because I didn't want to be blown up by an angry poetry god, but I have to admit, it wasn't good, even though I wanted to give him my number.

-I have to admit that that was good. I told him. So, what do you want?-

- Do you have something sweet…?

-We sell hot chocolate and we have different cakes for dessert if you want to…-

- I meant something sweeter than you, Leuconoe, and since you are the sweetest thing over here, I would like YOU to be my dessert.- he said in a perfect flirting voice and I couldn't help but blush. A lot.

Nine months later, I have a son. And yeah, you guessed. He is a demigod.