I really can't stress it more than that. Reviews are absolutely essential to this story's life: Even if you're reading this chapter long after it's been posted (I'm currently writing this part of the A/N approximately 3 weeks after I posted it), I still want reviews. So please, review. Please.
And if you don't yet understand the importance of reviewing, please read my A/N in Chapter 5.
Alright, here's Part 2 of Chapter 6.
Enjoy!
Anniversaries II: More Prep (Part 2)
Percy decided to stay at Camp for the night. It was just one of those days, where he didn't want to deal with the commute, or the old man at the train station that always looked at him funny, or the always-flirting 25 year old (at least) woman who lived across from him in his apartment building (he kept Annabeth's visits to his apartment building to a minimum solely because of that woman). It wasn't actually his apartment building—it was under his mom's name. They had gotten it in June, right after he'd graduated, so that he wouldn't have to travel back and forth between Camp and the summer job that he would inevitably find to start up his own living and maybe pay for some of the optional costs that would come with college in New Rome, so that he could help with expansion efforts in Camp Jupiter. He couldn't live in the apartment alone, so when he did drop by, it was usually with his mom so that nobody would call child services. However, tomorrow would be Annabeth's birthday, where she became a legal adult, and they had decided that afterwards, they would share the apartment together and she would provide the 'adult supervision' that was legally required.
And finally, it was Monday, and that meant a session with Will before dinner. And those sessions were usually bad enough that, afterwards, he and Annabeth needed each other's company to get through the night. No, not in that way.
What were they going to talk about in tonight's session . . . ? Right, Akhlys. They'd just finished up the arai last week. It had taken them over a month to get through that experience.
Exposure therapy—that's what Will called it. Where they relived Tartarus and faced the experiences that were causing the trauma, the memories that were the root of their disorder—post traumatic stress disorder. Gods, Percy felt old whenever he thought that. Diagnosed with PTSD? Never would he have imagined it in a million years. He'd heard of it, on the news. War veterans and first responders inevitably suffering from an illness that was a result of the terrible experiences they had to face on the job. But himself? Annabeth?
Percy sank to the ground, covering his face with a stifled groan. What had they become—soldiers? Always preparing for the next battle, the next war? Was that the fate they were doomed to? A sword in one hand, a shield in the other, and a target on their back—for the rest of their lives?
The purpose of their daily therapy was to embrace the traumatic experiences, to learn to accept them and to turn the fear and terror into something more manageable. But what did it matter if the trauma kept coming?
What if it never stopped?
Will sat across from Percy and Annabeth—the ultimate power couple, some people at Camp joked. A son of Poseidon and a daughter of Athena—a chaotic mixture of brains, brawn, sarcasm, and ingenuity that somehow managed to complement each other after years of working and fighting as a team.
It was sad, Will had come to realize very early on. That they were all so young, and yet had gone through the terrible things that they had. For the past year, it had been busy for the Apollo cabin, and it still was. The amount of research he'd had to do to learn the practice of counselling, the art of therapy . . . he'd gone from being a combat medic to a peacetime psychologist. Senior Apollo campers were busy giving daily therapy sessions for the older kids, the veterans, while the younger Apollo kids received weekly lessons on how to treat the most prevalent of illnesses and disorders that had begun to emerge in the weeks following the end of the Second Giant War. It didn't help that many of the older Apollo kids suffered from the same illnesses that they were trying to treat in other campers—a person could only see so many dead bodies before the wrongness of the entire situation turned into something far more traumatic for the observer. Two wars in as many years? That was something unheard of, and not something that people just 'bounced back' from. Really, it was no wonder that so many experienced nightmares at night and breakdowns in the middle of Capture the Flag.
Even Nico, his boyfriend. It had been difficult to get him to open up in the beginning—their relationship started off rocky and almost purely argumentative, mostly because the son of Hades was a stranger to relationships, let alone a love life. But slowly, with Will's never-ending persistence, the great black wall that Nico had built around himself began to fall away. And over the course of the past year, Will became privy to the most intimate, disturbing, and traumatic experiences that he had ever known. Percy and Annabeth survived Tartarus, yes. But they'd survived it together. Nico? He'd been alone, and if that wasn't horrible enough, him being a child of Hades allowed him to see the true nature of Tartarus, the landscape that had been shielded from Percy and Annabeth's eyes for the majority of the time they were there.*
It was funny, in a non-humourous way. That Will served as Nico's confidante, while Nico served as Will's. Nico had felt the deaths of hundreds of people over his lifetime, while Will had lost too many lives that had been placed in his own healing hands. They should have been the worst combination, but somehow, they were perfect for each other.
Will knew that without Nico, he would be far worse off. The same went for Percy and Annabeth.
Looking at the two again, Will almost wanted to call them a couple, just as the rest of Camp did, but he couldn't. These two were far more than that—Hell, they'd been to Tartarus and back. 'Girlfriend and boyfriend' just didn't cut it.
"Percy, are you sure you want to do it today? We can always move it to tomorrow." Annabeth said, looking at Percy with worry. They were on the beach, sitting in the warm sand, ready to start the session. They were here because the water was calming for Percy, and Will guessed that the smells and sounds of the waves were now comforting for Annabeth, having spent so much time in the company of the son of Poseidon.
Percy shook his head. "I'm fine."
Will peered at him. Annabeth told him that she'd found Percy crouching on the ground by the forest, breaking down in tears. Now, however, half an hour later . . . he looked fine. Healthy, only a little shadow under his eyes, his muscle growth back to normal. But he could see the tension in his shoulders, the shake in his right hand. Percy was not fine.
But therapy couldn't stop because of a break down. Especially exposure therapy. If they pushed the session back, it just meant that whatever was bothering Percy would bother him for another 24 hours. They had to deal with it now.
"What's wrong?" Will asked quietly.
"Nothing, I just—"
"Percy." Will nailed him with a glare, the one he'd perfected for stubborn patients.
"I'm tired!" Percy snapped.
He didn't need to say anymore. Will was very familiar with that phrase—hadn't he said that just last week, while confiding to Nico? I'm tired of it—tired of it all. I can't do this anymore. Will also knew just how big a hole someone could dig themselves in if they kept thinking that way. Worrying about the future was never healthy, and it was even less healthy for demigods. Our fates are fickle, Will thought, and then laughed inwardly as he caught the pun.
"Stop concentrating on tomorrow, or the day after that, Percy." Will said firmly. "There's absolutely no point in worrying—think about now."
"I—"
Will cut across him. "You've got a great life right now—Annabeth's here, your mom and Paul got married, and you're going to be going to college in New Rome by the end of the summer. If something's going to come around and ruin that," Will said, knowing that he had to address that inevitability in a demigod's life, "then let it come, and we'll deal with it then. Right now, concentrate on the present."
Percy was silent for a moment, and Will feared that he might have gone too far—that had happened once. Will wasn't looking to destroy any more cabins.
"Never let the future disturb you. You will meet it, if you have to—"
"With the same weapons of reason which today arm you against the present." Annabeth finished, looking at Percy in surprise. "How do you know that?"
Percy gave Annabeth a strange smile—a wistful smile, Will realized. He didn't think he'd ever seen it on Percy's face before. "I actually read the books that you recommend to me after our Ancient Greek lessons, you know. Well, sometimes."
"Meditations, by Marcus Aurelius." Will guessed. He remembered reading the few remaining scraps of the historical text a few years ago.
Percy nodded, and hugged Annabeth tighter with one arm, looking at Will. "I understand. I'm going to try and enjoy life, and not get too caught up with the future." It sounded rehearsed, like he'd been saying that to himself every day since . . . since forever.
Annabeth looked at him. "You know, that's the most intelligent thing I've heard you say since . . ."
"Since yesterday." Percy grinned.
Annabeth scoffed. "Since never."
Will watched as the two bickered good-naturedly, content to let them have this moment of happiness.
"Just wait until tomorrow." Annabeth promised, after a minute or so. "You're going to regret ever having challenged me."
Percy looked like he was trying not to smile. "We'll see. After what I've got planned for your birthday, of course."
Annabeth's eyes narrowed. "Remember what I said, Percy—nothing big."
A smile surfaced on his face. "Of course, of course."
Annabeth gave him a dangerous look. "You and I are talking about this later." Then she turned to Will, ignoring her boyfriend's ridiculous grin.
Will cleared his throat. "Okay, you decided that you wanted to talk about Akhlys next?"
The carefree atmosphere suddenly turned cold, and the smiles died away, making Will flinch inwardly. The therapy sessions that he conducted helped in the long run, but he still hated how devastating they were in the short-term.
Annabeth nodded, and Percy's eyes hardened.
Will took a deep breath. "Okay, tell what happened." They'd already told him the entire story—their horrendous trek through the Pit, all the encounters with the dozens of creatures and primordial beings, the unlikely acquaintances they'd made—even their final battle, where they'd met the very god of the Pit, Tartarus. It'd taken much prodding, coaxing, and threatening on Will's part, but they eventually recounted everything. Hearing what they'd had to go through, as well being privy to Nico's own horrific experiences, it was a wonder that Will was still sane. In a rare moment of longing, he wished that Apollo were here. But the god was missing.
Annabeth and Percy went through their encounter with the goddess of misery slowly, as if the memories pained them. Annabeth started shivering, and Percy's eyes hardened to the point where Will thought they might have turned to glass.
"I saw Percy, and he looked . . ." Annabeth faltered, and squeezed Percy's hand tighter. "He was dead."
They struggled through the story, unable to properly put in words the emotions they had felt when they'd turned into Death Mist. Then they reached the point where they were battling Akhlys.
"She had us trapped." Annabeth swallowed.
"And then . . ." Percy swallowed, faltering. He raked a hand through his hair. "And then I—"
Annabeth placed a hand on Percy's arm gently.
"And then I—I almost drowned her," Percy's eyes hardened to a frostbite cold and Will felt a chill go through him. He suddenly recalled something Nico had told him once while in a bitter anger. We're all murderers, you know that? We're all murderers. "I almost drowned her, in her own tears and poison."
The hardened and violent light in Percy's eyes shattered and he began to shake, his fists curled so tightly as his side that his knuckles were stark white. A slight tremble shook the ground.
Sitting on the beach, noticing that the waves had begun to surge violently, Will realized with dread that this would not be one of their better sessions.
. . .
Chiron gazed out over the Camp, looking very much like a sentinel armed with his bow and arrows. "Will, my dear boy, it was not your fault."
Will swallowed, shivering. He was still soaked to the bone, the salt making his nose twitch and his eyes water. He and Annabeth had barely managed to calm Percy down when the giant wave hit, crashing into the shore and reaching so far inland that the Demeter kids were complaining that all of the plants on their roof would be dead within the week because of the salt water.
The son of Poseidon had staggered off, with Annabeth keeping a firm grip on him, and the two hadn't been seen at dinner or the campfire. It was worrying, but it wasn't unusual. This had happened before, and if Will were being honest with himself, he would admit that what happened this evening wasn't nearly as bad as what had happened last month, when they were trying to get through the entire ordeal with the arai.
Will finally sighed. "I know. I just—I should have seen the signs." They'd all been there—the eyes, the stillness, the shaking—all of it. He'd been with them long enough that he should've noticed. Hadn't he noted, in less than a month of sessions with the two, that their asthma got significantly better as the exposure therapy progressed, leading him to draw the conclusion that their asthma also had psychological triggers—things that reminded them of Tartarus? So why hadn't he noticed this?
"Hey, Solace!" Nico marched up to the two of them, frowning darkly. "What happened? All I see is a tsunami wave rushing towards us, and rumours going around about another session with Percy and Annabeth gone bad."
Nico di Angelo had changed. Sure, he still wore an aviators jacket—Will managed to get him another one for his birthday, from a museum with some bribing, after the son of Hades had torn up his old one while delivering the Athena Parthenos—along with black jeans. But Nico was tan. And if that didn't speak volumes, then Will wasn't sure what would. They'd been spending more and more time together over the last year, with Nico becoming a common sight in the infirmary and the two more often than not breaking rules by sitting together at the Apollo table during meals. No longer was he the strange recluse, but the primary messenger and diplomat for relations between Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter. So yes, Nico di Angelo had changed.
"That's exactly what it was." Will grimaced.
Nico nodded, understanding. He was still going through his own sessions with Will, and many of them hadn't been pretty. "Just let it lie down for a while, and get back to it in a few days." He said, placing a comforting hand on Will's shoulder.
That was another thing about Nico that had changed. He didn't hate contact anymore. Mostly, anyway.
Chiron nodded to the two of them, and walked away, his tail swishing.
"So, Death Boy, got any towels?" Will asked, still shivering and drenched.
"Don't call me Death Boy!"
"Still need towels."
Nico glared at him. That was one thing about Nico that hadn't changed—his chilling glare. "Not if you were dead."
Will laughed, not in the least intimidated. "Never mind, I'll dry off soon enough."
Nico sighed. "You're going to get sick." He nodded towards the mess hall pavilion. "We'll go to the campfire—I'm sure there's still some of it left."
"No need for fire—I'm hot enough."
Nico blushed and Will laughed again.
"Percy, STOP!"
Percy bolted upright, gasping, the scream cutting right through his mind like a razor-sharp blade. A dream, it was just a dream, he reminded himself, running a shaking hand through his hair. He looked to his side and noted with some relief that Annabeth hadn't woken up, miraculously. He rested a hand on her arm, taking comfort in her warmth and her serene face, noting that a few strays of sunlight were beginning to filter through his cabin window. It was early morning.
She was probably tired, Percy figured. They'd stayed up late last night, Annabeth comforting him as he broke down yet again. They must have fallen asleep eventually, exhausted by the evening's events.
He was still afraid to admit to himself, even though he had admitted it to Annabeth last night. He could have gotten carried away with Akhlys, could have . . . could have hurt Annabeth—that's what his nightmare had been about. And he would never forgive himself if he did.
Slowly, quietly, he got out of bed, tucking the blankets around Annabeth more securely. He looked out his window, catching the swish of a white equine tail just as it moved out of the range of the window, and smiled faintly to himself. He was almost certain that Chiron knew that he and Annabeth spent their nights together in his cabin when he decided to stay at rather than return to his apartment or his mom's. Not for 'funny business', as the Stoll often tried to catch—more 'grieving business'. Percy slept better if he was in Annabeth's company, and vice versa.
A ray of sunlight struck Percy's eye and he shook his head, clearing it of any negative thoughts. Now wasn't the time for them—today was Annabeth's birthday!
Looking back at Annabeth one last time, he quietly opened the cabin door and exited, closing it behind him as gently as possible. Then he hurried to the mess hall pavilion, where he noted with satisfaction that everything was in place.
"Everything set?" Percy whispered to the Stoll brothers, even though everyone in Camp was awake and present, save for a single person.
Travis gave the thumbs up. "Yup. We lost the cake for a few hours, but it's all good—Connor found it."
Percy didn't even bother to ask, only nodded, surveying the rest of the pavilion. Now all they had to do was wait.
"Percy?" Annabeth pulled her dagger out of its sheath, holding it low at her side. She'd lost the one Luke had given her all those years ago, but replaced it with another one that Percy gave her after the Second Giant War. "Whatever you're planning . . ." She stepped into the eerily empty mess hall pavilion, her sneakers making no noise.
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
There was an explosion of sound and movement and suddenly, demigods were spilling into the pavilion holding torches of fire and wearing bright party hats. The fire in the bronze brazier where they gave burnt offerings to the gods came alive, and had somehow been manipulated into the head of an owl, its heat-white eyes burning with intelligence as licking flames formed a regal face. Small, grey owl confetti showered down onto Annabeth and she spluttered, accidently inhaling some. Was that . . . vanilla? She waved away the edible confetti as a single demigod emerged from the crowd, a lopsided grin on his face.
"Hey." Percy grinned.
Annabeth scrutinized him.
Percy's grin widened. "Happy Birthday?"
Annabeth rolled her eyes, unable to resist that ridiculous smile of his any longer. She sheathed her dagger, and wrapped her arms around his neck, locking gazes with those sea-green eyes. "Happy birthday," she agreed.
The whole pavilion erupted in cheers as the two kissed.
When they broke apart, Travis and Connor stepped forward and placed a giant mountain of cream, vanilla, and icing on the table. On the top was yet another owl . . . missing an eye.
Connor noticed Annabeth's gaze and gave a sheepish shrug. "Close encounter with Mrs. O'Leary. Travis had to toss the eye to distract her while I ran with the cake."
Outside, a tail-wagging Mrs. O'Leary gave a ground trembling WOOF!
"So . . ." Travis raised an absurdly long, thin sword. "Who wants to cut the cake?"
Annabeth ended up doing the honors as the rest of the campers sang the traditional song, and suffice it to say that the Demeter cabin was busy all morning baking more giant cakes to accommodate the 400+ campers and wild spirits. Festivities lasted well past noon, as the entire Camp celebrated the 18th birthday of its longest residing camper.
"11 years, I believe?" Mr. D said with indifference. "I guess congratulations are in order, Annabelle."
And of course, she was a legal adult now.
"So, I guess I have to babysit you at the apartment until you turn 18 yourself." Annabeth teased. She and Percy walked by the edge of the forest, holding hands.
"Babysit? I think it would be more accurate to call it . . ." Percy didn't know what was more accurate.
"Babysitting it is." Annabeth grinned.
Percy rolled his eyes, before remembering their plans for the evening. He checked his watch—it was 2:30. When did the party start? Right, 3:00. "I've still got to give you my birthday present."
"Percy, I don't need—"
"No, you're totally going to love this." He pulled her after him until they reached the Athena cabin. "Wear something nice and I'll meet you at the Hill in 15 minutes."
"What?" Annabeth looked at him, confused. "Where are we going?"
"Don't worry—I already told Chiron. Just think of it as a party/job interview." Seeing Annabeth's baffled look, Percy said, "Trust me—remember 15 minutes." He dashed off towards the Poseidon cabin. Once he got there, he threw on the 'smart but casual' clothing that both Annabeth and Sally had gotten for him a while back (that had been a nightmare), and then ran to Half-Blood Hill.
Annabeth was already there, wearing what she hoped would be appropriate clothing for whatever people wore to a party/job interview (seriously, only Percy would say that)—a nice grey skirt and a white blouse. She rarely worried about her image, but when it came to those rare moments of outing with Percy . . . she shuddered, hoping she wasn't turning into a child of Aphrodite. No offense intended against the goddess or her children, of course, but having to wear make-up all the time, spending dozens of hours finding the perfect clothing . . . definitely not the idea of fun for Annabeth.
"You look awesome." Percy grinned, and that instantly brightened Annabeth's day.
With Percy in the lead, they met up with Argus and his white SUV at the bottom of the Hill. Without a word, the three got into the car and Argus drove them into Manhattan, seeming to already know their destination.
"No way . . ." Annabeth breathed as the car stopped and the two got out of the car.
Percy thanked Argus, who nodded and gave Annabeth a slight smile before driving off, back to Camp.
Around them, cars honked and people conversed and ran and hurried here and there, but Annabeth's vision had gone into laser mode. In front of her, Avengers Tower towered over the rest of the skyscrapers, brilliant and shining in all its glory (or disgust, in Percy's case).
Annabeth turned to look at Percy in shock. "No way. Did you-how . . . what . . ." She was at a loss for words.
Percy grinned. "It gets better."
He led her through the revolving doors, and into a bustling foyer. The Stark Industries logo was emblazoned across the black marble floor, while holographs flashed in displays and across transparent screens, creating a constant stream of quiet babble over the conversations of employees on break and chattering receptionists.
Annabeth felt overwhelmed. This was her dream—gods, how long had she wanted this?
Percy led them to one of the receptionists, and gave his name and Annabeth's, providing the invitation card that Clint had sent him.
"Percy Jackson . . . hmmm, not on the list . . . wait, no, it seems Mr. Barton has asked for a personal invite for one Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase." The man smiled at him and waved to the elevator beside him even as it opened. "Go on right ahead."
Holding hands, the two walked into the elevator and its doors closed silently. The light at the top indicated that they were heading for Tony Stark's Suite and Office on the 93rd floor. When Annabeth saw that, she nearly choked.
"We're meeting—we're meeting Tony Stark?" Annabeth gasped.
Percy never stopped grinning. "Yup. And there's still more to come." He checked his watch—it was 3:15. Oh well—better late than never.
"More to come? You-Why didn't you tell me? Oh gods, I should have dressed better." Annabeth felt dismal in her clothing now, and each passing floor was like another inch closer to her doom. She wasn't a fan of Tony Stark, but, by the gods was she a fan of his ingenuity.
Percy held both her hands, looking straight in her eyes. "Relax—Annabeth, you look fine. Even better than me." He teased, trying to lighten the mood.
"I always look better than you." Annabeth said, trying to calm down. She stilled her hands, and gripped Percy's tighter. "I'm so going to kill you after this."
Percy laughed. "Just wait until you get your birthday present."
Annabeth had forgotten that it was her birthday. Hell, her entire mind seemed to be wiped clean at the moment. Think, think—what are you going to say to him? 'Hi, I'm Annabeth Chase—', no, too normal. 'Mr. Stark, the architectural stability and artistic design of your insert full rant', oh gods, nerd much? What am I going to SAY?
The pleasant ding of the elevator broke through her thoughts and the two of them walked out onto the penthouse. But they couldn't see much—tinted windows barred any escape left and right and a tinted glass divider emerged from the ceiling and slid down, cutting them off from walking forward. Behind them, the elevator doors closed shut. They were trapped.
Percy and Annabeth jumped as a disembodied voice spoke to them, seeming to come from everywhere.
"I'm sorry, but it seems that Mr. Barton's request for personal guests must be screened by Mr. Stark first. He should be here shortly.
"Friday," Annabeth breathed.
"Um, no—it's Tuesday. Your birthday, remember?" Percy looked at her, as if wondering whether she was going insane.
"No, seaweed brain—the voice. It's Friday. The UI—the user interface that Tony Stark made?" Percy only gave her a blank expression and Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Jarvis was transferred to the body that was supposed to be Ultron's, and now makes up a part of the Vision's consciousness, so he uses Friday now. How can you not know this? Ultron was the biggest breakthrough in artificial intelligence since . . . since Deep Blue!" And the creation of all the machine learning applications, and Watson, and a dozen other things. Annabeth added mentally, like she always did when she was ready to go on a rant but knew that Percy would be asleep by the end of it.
"Oh." Percy said intelligently. "Well, I'm kinda worried about something else . . ."
"Like?"
"Well . . . Tony doesn't actually know that we're coming to this party. I mean, Clint invited us, because apparently, he's supposed to bring along a friend and he chose me and said that you could come as well," Percy said quickly. "But Tony didn't personally invite us. I thought it would be okay, but this—Friday, is making a big deal out of it, so now I'm not quite so sure . . ."
Annabeth's brain made the connection. "Clint invited us, but didn't tell Tony." She closed her eyes briefly. "You brought us to a party that Tony Stark is hosting, but Tony Stark didn't invite us?" She threw up her hands—well, there went whatever possibility of meeting him, on good terms. Forget 'Hi, I'm Annabeth Chase'—I'll probably be saying, 'Please don't arrest us—we thought we were invited. Total mistake—won't ever happen again. By the way, love your Tower!' before being thrown out onto the street.
"Well, I mean, when you put it like that . . ."
"Percy!" Annabeth was about ready to tear out her hair.
Just at the moment, the tinted glass divider in front of them rose up to reveal a man in flannel shirt, brown leather jacket, and jeans. Annabeth noted the close cut hair and the way he stood. He was a fighter.
"Clint." Percy said, sounding relieved.
"Hey, Percy!" Clint grinned. "Sorry about that—forgot about Friday."
"I'm still obligated to alert Mr. Stark to—"
"Yeah, yeah, I know. But Percy and Annabeth are surprise guests, and if you tell Tony, then it won't be a surprise. Right?"
Friday sounded slightly amused, if that was possible. "Quite right, I suppose. I do not sense any weapons on them . . ."
"Right, completely non-threatening." Clint ushered them out of the glass box that they had been standing in and then turned to face Annabeth.
"Heard a lot about you, kid. Clint Barton," He held out his hand and Annabeth shook it, feeling the weathered grip of his palm. Well, he is an archer, after all, she thought.
Annabeth smiled, not bothering to point out that she was an adult now. "Nice to meet you, Mr.—"
"No, enough with the misters—Percy was bad enough. Call me Clint."
"Well then—nice to meet you Clint."
"Same goes with you. Now," Clint rubbed his hands together in a conspiratorial way. "Let's go and give Tony a pleasant surprise, shall we?" He led them down a glass corridor. On either side, Annabeth looked down to see several lounging areas, along with a huge office and lab above.
And the host of the party was right there in one of the many lounging areas, conversing with a man and woman.
"Hey, Tony—look who I brought." Clint called out.
Tony Stark turned and blanched.
"Friends of yours, Stark?" The blonde man that Tony had been talking to appraised the duo, giving them a slight smile.
"Uhhh . . ." Tony took a big gulp from the glass of wine in his hand.
"I thought we agreed that fans weren't going to be invited this time." Another man said, walking into the room with a glass in his hand.
"I thought we did, too." Tony turned to Clint, giving him a disbelieving look. "You invited them here? That's what Friday was fussing about?"
"Ummm, why do I get the feeling that we're not welcome?" Percy asked, nervously.
"Maybe because I said no bringing along your friends this time—remember, Clint?" Tony said, the hint of a threat in his tone. "No offense, kids." He added offhandedly.
Clint smiled. "Yup. But they're not just my friends—they're yours too. Everybody—meet Tony's new fighting instructor and his girlfriend, Percy and Annabeth."
Thank you for reading, and please review!
- 100th Century
