Author's note: I know I should probably save this for our boy's birthday in a few months, but it was inspired by challenge prompts I need to cash in. Chef Percy, anyone? I like it. Anyways, it's fluff, so enjoy!

Disclaimer: Based on the character, world, and works of Uncle Rick, long may he troll us.

Warnings: NA

Thirteen Minutes To Spare

Thankfully, Percy didn't trip on the hula-hoops littering the entryway as he stumbled home. He was used to working late nights at the restaurant and had survived the triplets' terrible twos, so his feet knew their way around in the dark even if he was barely lucid. It was a survival mechanism, really.

He tried not to make any noise as he crept inside the townhouse, but saw that the light was still on in the living room. He'd told Annabeth not to wait up for him, but he'd suspected she wouldn't listen. He hadn't been sure who was more upset that he was working on his birthday, her or the kids. He'd promised they'd celebrate tomorrow as if it was his birthday, when Estelle and his parents came over too, but he wasn't opposed to catching up with her. Maybe they'd get to brush their teeth and go to bed together; that was exciting when your relationship was this grown-up.

"Hey," Percy called quietly as he put his bag down and wiggled out of his t-shirt now that he was in the house. His skin was sticky with sweat, both from the boiling heat of the kitchen and the stupidly hot summer weather he'd walked home in. You would think that a Michelin star restaurant could afford air conditioning, but apparently no. "How did—"

He froze. Something about working in a kitchen for hours and managing a dozen pots and pans at once heightened his senses and magnified the world around him—it wasn't all that different from the way his ADHD perked up in the middle of a fight, really. Maybe that was why he'd found his place in culinary school after two years of slugging through a degree he didn't really want. At first he'd thought it was because cooking made him think of his mom and feel close to her, but really the dinner rush was essentially a battlefield. Whatever the case, he clocked the burnt smell the second he walked in.

Annabeth emerged from the living room wearing her shortest pair of pajamas and a tank-top, blond curls piled on top of her head and away from her neck. Her black dressing gown hung open and flowed around her calves.

"Everything okay?" Percy asked. "It smells like something burnt—was it a monster or the kids?"

Sometimes, it was hard to tell the difference. They were always outnumbered, either way.

Annabeth chewed on her lip.

"I'm so embarrassed," she said, shaking her head.

"Why?" Percy asked. "Is everything alright…"

"Everything's fine," Annabeth said. "The kids are all fine, they're in bed, just… I'll show you."

She turned and walked into the kitchen so Percy followed. There was a pile of clean dishes by the sink and new drawings had been pinned to the fridge with magnets, but Annabeth walked over to the garbage can and stepped on the pedal to open the lid. She crossed her arms over her chest as Percy had a look inside.

"What… what is that?" Percy asked. "Again, I ask, did the kids do that or was it a monster?"

"It was me, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth said. "I tried…"

She blushed.

"You tried what?" Percy asked. He looked down at the garbage can again, and at the lump of charred whatever-it-was inside. "Is this… did you try baking?"

"I tried baking," Annabeth sighed. "And Tyson wasn't around to help this time so it ended up being an actual brick."

"You tried baking for me?" Percy repeated, smiling.

"I tried baking for you," she sighed. "I thought it would be a nice surprise for you to come home from work to. I thought I could feed you birthday cake in the last thirty minutes of your birthday before midnight and it would be adorable and make up for your stupidly busy day."

"It would be," Percy nodded. He frowned. "That was supposed to be cake?"

"I asked your mother for her easiest recipe," Annabeth said, shaking her head in disappointment. "And then I chickened out and used a box mix instead. And this still happened, so we walked down to that bakery down the street and bought a cake we can all enjoy tomorrow, maybe even for breakfast. Don't laugh."

"I'm not laughing."

"You're biting back a smile."

"Because I like you and you tried baking for me," Percy said, letting his smile spread across his face so he was beaming at her now. Even if it was unbearably hot, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. It was messy, having your birthday coincide with the advent of a doomsday prophecy, a bloody battle, and the death anniversaries of friends and complicated enemies alike. Annabeth always tried so hard, every year, to make it a special day. But baking? Baking was next level because Annabeth Chase did not bake on her own.

"What did your children have to say about that?" Percy asked. They were not used to seeing their mother in the kitchen for anything other than putting groceries away.

"Maggie reminded me very gently that there's a reason I make buildings and you make food," Annabeth said.

Percy burst out into laughter and even Annabeth smiled at that.

"She was very specific that she didn't mean it in a rude way," Annabeth said.

"She never does," Percy laughed.

She turned back to the pantry and took out a chocolate pudding cup. She unceremoniously put it on the counter in front of Percy and stabbed a waxy blue birthday candle through the lid.

"This is what you get instead," she said. She opened a drawer on the kitchen island, retrieved two spoons, and handed him one.

"It's my birthday and I don't even get my own pudding cup?" Percy asked.

"You get your own wife."

He could have pointed out that he got that every day, not just his birthday, but he kissed her forehead instead.

"Did you want me to light the candle?" Annabeth asked, eyebrow arched.

"I'm okay on wishes this year," he admitted.

"Suit yourself," Annabeth said. He peeled the lid off the pudding cup and she clinked her spoon with his. "Happy birthday, Seaweed Brain. Now tell me all about work before the kids wake up and hear that you're home."

"Dada!" he heard someone squeal.

"Too late," Annabeth said, taking a spoonful of pudding for herself. "Owen, come hug Dada and then go wake up your siblings; we're having cake. It's only 11:47, we can still get this done on time."

"With thirteen minutes to spare," Percy grinned. "Cutting it close, Chase."

"Not in the special time zone where I have three kids, it isn't," Annabeth shrugged, eating more pudding.

At the sound of the word "cake," Owen forgot all about how excited he was to see Percy and ran off to wake up his brother and sister. Annabeth laughed and took the moment of peace to come kiss Percy, laying a hand on his chest.

"You'll tell me all about it later," she said.

"Later," Percy promised. "If the kids ever get back to sleep after we put frosting into them."

There was some brief yelling when Hayes got upset about being woken up, but the word "cake" must have come up because soon all they heard was the pitter-patter of feet as the kids ran to wake up their sister and then stumble down the stairs. The kiddos swarmed Percy's legs while Annabeth retrieved a cardboard box from the fridge, and Percy plopped them down on the kitchen island while Annabeth lit the candles one by one.

"Owen said we were eating cake," Hayes said, scrunching his nose.

"We have to sing first, that's the rule," Annabeth said. She tucked the lighter in the back pocket, away from small hands, because her mother was the goddess of wisdom after all. "Okay, are we ready? Just like we practiced… one, two, three."

Best birthday ever.

WC: 1323