SUMMARY: Percy Jackson has a crush: the bright moon that keeps him company during his night shifts, while he works at a common bar. However, falling in love with a trigger-happy moon goddess doesn't exactly fill the "crush" department. In which Artemis is both amused and horrified at the love-stricken bar boy, Percy likes the sound of trouble, and the love goddess laughs from above. Pertemis


It all started with three shots of tequila, the moon, and a late-night shift.

Percy sighed to himself and waved an awkward hand at the sky. It was a peaceful July evening, and at the moment, in some miraculous phenomenon, the smoke and clouds didn't cover the pale, glowing moon in the inky sky. The window, however, was smeared with fogged-up breath, brown stains, and an oddly inserted wad of bright pink gum, so Percy hurriedly grabbed a towel and tried wiping the mess away.

His close friend and colleague, Piper, was making drinks, while he tended to the cleanliness of his workplace.

The bar was called "Moonlit Liquor," and it was a small, somewhat unknown place at the edge of town. By this knowledge alone, Percy thought it should be "shady" and "weird," but it was nice—it was well air-conditioned, and Percy and his colleagues cleaned the wooden tabletops on the daily. They'd gotten air fresheners from a nearby bath shop, and it smelled of warm cinnamon, spice, and roses. It was a wonderful smell to get drunk to, Percy thought idly. He brought the wet towel harder over the glass, wiping away every smudge from that beautiful July moon.

"You've gotten nearly every dust particle on that window," Piper said with a smirk and a raised brow. "Something on your mind, Percy Jackson?"

For a moment, he didn't reply. He focused on cleaning ash from the window, then directed his gaze back at the tables. Only when Percy was completely finished, he passed his attention to his coworker: Miss Piper McLean, a snappy tomboy-ish girl who had a smile that charmed every customer that'd ever stepped into Moonlit Liquor. At first, Percy had thought Piper was shallow and try-hardy; she'd screamed "rich father who pays for everything I want," and Percy being Percy (in this case, living in a one-bedroom apartment in low-end New York) had been jealous.

Now though, he'd evened out, and Piper had grown on him. She was the best insider for interesting gossip, and she was good with customers and taking over shifts when Percy was tending to his mom.

"Yeah," Percy admitted, and he flipped his head to Piper at the cashier booth. "The moon…"

"The moon?" Piper asked chirpily. "Wow, Percy, I didn't think you had a crush."

Percy's face flushed embarrassingly, and he scrunched his brows tightly together. "It's not like that," he muttered, even though his voice had been full of wonder and awe. A sort of love for the beautiful moon that kept him sane during the twelve-hour-long shifts.

Piper's brow was still propped up, but she let it go.

There were five young adults working at Moonlit Liquor at all times. Piper had come to the bar on her own accord, as a sort of way to learn humility and how to make drinks, but the most she'd taken was six hours. Then there was Nico, a barely legal twenty-two-year-old, who either darkly occupied the corner, fetching drinks for customers, handing napkins, and teaching old fellows how to play this quirky game called "Mythomagic." There was also a foreign exchange student named Zoë, who worked as a dish-washer in the back. She gave the vibes of a Persian princess, and she often brought short plays by Shakespeare to work. The oldest of them five, Thalia Grace, came to Moonlit Liquor to get away from her horrible home-life, and she was a punk, who regaled her customers with adventures, chock-filled with cusses and familial hatred.

He was here because he was poor. More often than not, Percy was left scrounging and trying to pay off the bills. His mom was struggling too, trying to maintain an apartment in New York City by working minimum-wage at a candy shop. While she was barely scraping life expenses, she attempted to live her dream of being an author (with less than stellar results).

Percy, on the other hand, struggled to afford college tuition, and he was living off instant noodles and sheer will.

The man who ran Moonlit Liquor, Mr. D, paid better than the minimum, and Percy liked the simplicity of working at the bar. The little business, run by five scrappy twenty-something-year-olds, was sustained by regulars. Percy was often making drinks for men and women, who'd he met years ago.

Piper, Percy, Thalia, Nico, and Zoë were a formidable combination. Piper and Thalia were the charming, witty servers, Nico and Percy were the quiet ones, and Zoë was Zoë.

At the moment, as eleven o'clock chimed on the overhead analog clock, Moonlit Liquor entered a lull in business, so Piper was wise-cracking the hell out of Percy, and Percy was trying to come up with something clever to say.

Zoë laughed loudly from the kitchen. "Is Percy Jackson star-struck by the moon?"

Percy's cheeks felt as warm as hotcakes. "No," he mumbled.

Piper snorted. "He's completely smitten. Look at that face of his," she told Zoë unabashedly.

"Am not!" Percy said back. He felt flustered, but he did know it wasn't a crush. It was a peculiar fascination at the wondrous sight of the moon in all its forms: crescent, full, waning, waxing. He was addicted to the sight of the moon. It wasn't a lovey-dovey thing; it was...moon-gazing. "You say all of this, Piper, but I know you were eyeing up Jason Grace."

"Oh, please," Piper said with a roll of her glittering eyes. "I've eyed every customer here." A few beats passed, when Percy was trying to say something to get them off his back, and Piper added on: "Moon Boy."

Some drunk customer at the counter echoed the name with a sloppy grin: "Moon Boy!"

Thalia laughed loudly, her lips twisted into a smirk. She raised the glass she'd been working on, and added on: "Hell yeah! To our one and only Moon Boy!"

Then a chorus of chants from everyone echoed on. The obnoxious nickname had been yelled and called across the whole bar, and Percy tried to hurriedly occupy himself with cleaning the floors with an ugly mop, his cheeks pinkening. Who would've known moon-gazing would cause such an embarrassing musical number of "Moon Boy"? Percy blamed Piper utterly.

Piper put a hand up in the universal gesture of please, stop. The customers coughed and hiccupped, and in the wide-eyed silence, Piper then sang a very beautiful, moving musical number, the sound of: "When the moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie..." echoing across the bar.

The audience was completely starry-eyed at Piper's musical talent, and they finished off with an excited, "That's amore!"

Percy seriously could not escape his skin quick enough. He set the mop aside, and he went to the back. Zoë had finished scrubbing away at a pretty pink glass that curled in an hourglass-like shape. She stared at him curiously.

"It's absolute hell out there," Percy muttered, only half-joking. "Can I help with the dishes?"

"Of course," Zoë said, moving to the side of the sink. She worked on scrubbing, while Percy rinsed away the popping, iridescent bubbles.

"They do have a point, Percy Jackson," she told him, her lips in a tilted smile. Her dark, wavy hair was done up in a smooth braided bun, and her skin glowed bronze in the off-white light of the bar. Percy felt warm. "You, Percy Jackson, are exactly the type of man to get a crush on the moon."

"It's not a crush!"

"You stare at it for practically all of your breaks, and even during shifts, your eyes linger there. If you do pursue a professional relationship, the moon would never be far from your mind."

"Now that's an exaggeration," Percy said with a snort. "By your logic, you'll cheat on someone with Shakespeare?"

Zoë's eyes were as dark as umber, searing. "You do not bring William Shakespeare into this," she stated firmly. Percy held his hands out in the gesture of surrender, but that point was made.

Percy didn't know much about Zoë, but she was incredibly beautiful, and they'd become sort-of-rivals, sort-of-friends.

When Thalia and Zoë had gotten over their mild animosity, they joined Piper in their conquest of annoying Percy. He didn't know how he handled them, but at least, he had Nico on his side for the metaphorical battle (though it didn't help much. All Nico did was quietly sulk and stare).

Percy laughed. "Okay, okay, Zo."

"And don't call me that."

"Zo," he teased.

"Oh, what was Piper saying?" Zoë questioned sarcastically. "Oh, yes. Moon Boy."

From outside, Piper was still singing "That's Amore" to a very entertained group of heavy drinkers. Zoë's smile was triumphant, and as she cleaned another dish, she let out the final mellow note. Her voice was rough and tinged with a light accent, but her singing was pretty pleasant to the ears. To Percy, the only annoying part was the contents of the song.

"Not you too," Percy muttered. "I thought we had a truce or something."

"Go outside, and help Nico out. He has too many customers."

"Oh, please," laughed Percy. "The poor boy needs as much social interaction as he can get."

"You're the one with the moon girlfriend," she said with a languid roll of her eyes. "I know we may all be bachelors, but at least we do not have unrequited romances with inanimate objects."

"The moon is not an object!" Percy felt the need to clarify.

"My point is proven," she said, and she made a shoo gesture at him. "Lover boy."

Percy walked out of the kitchen, his nose scrunched up, even though he was clearly right. It was all fun and jokes, but sometimes, he did wonder why the moon was so important to him. Maybe it was the fact that it always watched over him, even when he was a little troublemaking kid, who got kicked out of schools. Even when his mom smiled nervously, trying to pat his back reassuringly, he felt...on-edge. The moon gave him calmness, and in ever-changing New York City, that meant a lot to Percy.

That was all.

He took up a perch next to Nico. The boy was making a moon cocktail, their famous namesake drink. The woman in front of him was etched with wrinkles and sad eyes, and Percy pursed his lips. Most of the people at Moonlit Liquor were usually lonely young people, who came for social interaction and the jazzy music, but there were also depressed souls, who drank to ease the pain.

Percy had only drunk alcohol once, a small shot of whiskey, and it burned his throat. His mind had been foggy, and he'd felt weaker than ever, and that was his one-night-stand with alcohol. It was ironic that he'd picked a bar, no matter how ambient, to work when he had such a peculiar relationship with alcohol.

"Oh, Moon Boy!" the old woman said with a grin, her voice slurred. She looked tipsy and unfocused.

Percy attempted an assuring smile. "That would be me."

"Thank you for being the inspiration for her," she blearily blinked and attempted to point at Piper, "to sing. It reminds me of when I used to sing on Broadway."

Percy's smile became wistful. "You're welcome, ma'am," he said, tilting his head. "Can I get you anything else tonight?"

She nodded her head "no," and Percy continued to wipe bottles and the counter-top.

He mentally prepared himself for a long night, serving alcohol and pretending not to look like an insomniac.

His eyes met a pair of tired grey ones, and Percy upturned his mouth, smiling at the recognizable customer.

Annabeth Chase walked in smoothly. The circles around her eyes were rimmed grey and black, unable to miss and familiar to Percy. Percy's smile wilted, as Annabeth settled in front of him with a loud sigh and an order for a lemon-zested tequila with basil.

"Miss Annabeth Chase," Percy said, attempting to make Annabeth feel better with an obnoxious waggle of his brows. He grabbed a blue-tinted cup, squeezing two lemons and a lime into the cup. It wasn't fancy lemonade, but it was honest work, freshly squeezed in front of the customer. He grabbed the alcohol, resting in a wine-bottle-like container, and poured in a dose. He finally topped the citrusy drink with fresh green basil. "How are you?" he added, handing the drink to her dramatically.

Annabeth took a swig of the glass, her eyes dark and sad. "Fine," she said in a flat tone. "I was walking in, and I heard a song being played in here?"

"Piper," said Percy without much embellishment.

"Piper," agreed Annabeth, and sank into the tall seat.

"Is everything okay?" asked Percy, his brows furrowing in concern. Annabeth's lips pursed, and she shrugged, but her eyes told Percy something was bothering her, and her pride was stuffing it up inside. "Annabeth, you can tell me anything, you know."

Just because they were exes didn't mean Percy didn't care about Annabeth. In any case, now that she was his close friend, he felt their relationship grow closer, just not in...that direction.

"My stepmom sucks," she finally blurted, her eyes angry and disgusted. "What else is new? I complain about the same thing every time."

"And I'll listen again," Percy assured her, his sea-green eyes bright with concern. "What happened this time?"

"We had a fourth of July meet-up, where we'd go watch the fireworks. I brought Luke," Percy didn't outright wince at the name, but it was close, "and Thalia. My dad and stepbrothers were awkward but nice enough for the most part. Then my stepmom started yelling about the stupidest shit, Percy! It was horrible. I walked with my feet too close: 'What a slob Annabeth is, Fredrick!' and if I asked her how my dad, she told me I didn't truly care about him. That I was a lost cause, and there was a reason they kicked me out...and..."

Annabeth almost seemed to metaphorically drown in a sentence of rage and sadness. Percy put a hand around her arm, caressing and soft. His green eyes seemed to shatter at Annabeth's heartbreak, and he wished he could get rid of the countertop stretching around them and give her a hug. Though it would be "improper," and Mr. D would yell at him for annoying a customer. Instead, Percy only settled a sad, sympathetic look Annabeth's way.

"I know it was me who told you to reconcile with your parents," Percy mumbled, "but if your dad's still tolerating...her, then you should cut them out."

Annabeth's eyes glittered with tears, and Percy's heart broke at the sight. "I'm a mess, Percy."

"I'm sorry," Percy replied, because he didn't know what else to say to Annabeth. He cared about her a lot, and she was one of his closest friends (not including his bar coworkers), but Percy wasn't a licensed therapist.

He had his own mess of issues, issues Annabeth had never bothered to learn when they'd dated. He couldn't blame it all on Annabeth for not recognizing Percy's messy financial issues (Percy had avoided going to his one-bedroom apartment, had avoided fancy restaurants, had avoided anniversary gifts, had avoided the subject).

"I don't know what to do," Annabeth finally said with a choked cry.

A few of the bar patrons looked awkwardly away from Annabeth's public cry, but even under panic and stress, Annabeth's shell of pride and arrogance dripped away, revealing her to be the same sad seven-year-old girl Percy had met on a playground one spring day.

"You...don't have to pay for the drink," Percy said to her softly. "It's on me, okay?"

Annabeth shoved her face into her hands, her eyes squinting and tears falling out. "Shit, Percy. I thought after high-school, everything would be easier. I thought...I thought that things were going to get better..."

Percy held her hand encouragingly, his face pursed. Although a lot of things had bothered him about high-school (his and Annabeth's earth-shattering break-up, losing contact with people he'd met, not having many friends and feeling lonely), he'd still typically held fond memories of high-school. Annabeth, on the other hand, had thought high-school had been hell. He'd never gotten an upfront story about it, but he didn't need to. He trusted Annabeth.

Annabeth continued to sob for another twenty minutes. Percy tried to interject kind, understanding words, but it was hard for him. Percy was already awkward enough, and when anyone cried, Percy was stuck in place, attempting slight reassuring physical contact and saying things like: "It's not your fault" or "I'm sorry."

Annabeth ended up consuming three shots of tequila. She had a low tolerance for alcohol, and her words started slurring along the third.

Percy's smile waxed and waned, and as a few customers walked in, he had to settle on serving them, instead of focusing on Annabeth. He really, truly, deeply cared about Annabeth, but that paycheck wasn't going to hop into Percy's hands by itself. Money called, and Percy's poor status forced him to be an eager listener.

He exchanged polite small-talk with the customers, wished them a good drinking, and went back to the spot Annabeth sat. Her tears had dried on her cheeks, like stripes of translucent paint.

"Do you have someone to take you home?" Percy finally asked softly.

"I c-can...dr...drive," Annabeth slurred out.

It would be criminal to let Annabeth drive at this stage. But it wasn't like Percy could take her, seeing as he had another eleven hours to fulfill. He wondered if he could rope Piper into taking Annabeth.

"So," Annabeth said with a wide, drunken smile, "how are you, Percy?"

"I'm...good," he said cautiously.

"Good? Just good?" Annabeth murmured. "Do you...miss me?"

Percy swallowed with an awkward smile that emitted a single word: Yikes. Sixteen-year-old Percy, a romantic at heart and a fighter in spirit, had been devastated when Annabeth had broken up with him. He'd come up with multiple conspiracy theories of how Annabeth was going to hop to Luke Castellan, a charming senior boy, after ditching him. He'd gone to his old friend Grover and broken down into sobs in front of the guy. It wasn't his best moment, and Percy would never cry again in front of a guy again, but Grover was different. He was sensitive and kind, and he didn't mock Percy when he cried. In response to Percy's outburst, Grover even set down his enchiladas.

Now though, looking back on it, it was kind of foolish. There was a part of his heart that he had given to Annabeth, but because of that, it was no longer in his chest.

"I'm sorry," Percy whispered.

Annabeth's lips were pursed and tilted, like she didn't know what to make of the words.

"Can you get Thalia or Piper to take you home?" Percy finally asked. "I'm worried about you, and I don't want something to happen to you in this state."

Annabeth blubbered an imperceptible response, then nodded her head once. "Okay, okay..."

Percy managed to convince a sullen Piper, whose shift was done, to take Annabeth home. As Piper walked out of the store, Annabeth's arm around her neck, supporting the blonde girl's weight, she passed Percy an unimpressed look, then the chorus of "Talking to the Moon," by Bruno Mars. Percy tried not to seem amused at his coworker's shenanigans, but it was hard when Piper's voice was so enchanting.

Like a siren's. A very evil siren.

The rest of the night drew on without much fanfare or applauding. A drunk guy or two got into a rap battle with their reflection on the stylistic, aesthetic mirror hanging across the room. A pair of teenagers tried to sneak in, and Thalia scared them off with a stink-eye and her dragon tattoo. A few of the regulars asked Percy how he'd been for the past week, and Percy only dodged the question clumsily. When there were no customers to deal with, Percy stared at the moon from the counter, wiping at glasses in passing. He didn't like how he was proving his friends' point, but it was so hard to stop.

Especially the imaginary conversations. That was something that needed to go.

"Hello, moon," he murmured to himself, as silent as the rustling A.C. in the background.

My name is Percy Jackson, he told it wordlessly. I work at a bar. I like the color blue. It's not all that special because I haven't met a single person who doesn't like blue, but I just wanted to tell you. I hate waiting for miracles because I always get disappointed. I like staring at you. You're much better than the sun: joyous and loud and blistering and angry and furious. You are so subtle, a sphere in the sky with emotions drawn away like parting curtains.

Ever-present, unchanging, eternal. There is something...amazing to that, you know? You're immortalized in the stars, while I'm immortalized in "Best Employee of the Month." I suppose that just shows how different our lives are. They make fun of me, you know, for enjoying the sight of you in a navy-blue sky. They can call me "Moon Boy" or a hopeless romantic; it doesn't matter to me, any of it.

You are beautiful.

His thoughts dragged on, and he found himself mindlessly making drinks for customers. His tinkling "Tips" jar was empty; in comparison, his mind was crammed with inner dialogue for the pale circle in the sky.

Thalia and Nico accompanied him making drinks. Thalia had created an alcoholic drink, topped with whipped cream, that everyone is intent on giving a try. Nico was entertaining an elderly couple with tales of magic and splendor, of a game that sounds remarkably like Dungeons and Dragons with Greek mythology.

"Oh!" Nico said excitedly. "You just earned a new card!"

"Really?" the old man asked, eyeing his wife with raised brows. "I must be a natural at this game."

"Yes! You just won the card Artemis, goddess of the hunt and moon. She has double XP at night-time, so you're in luck!" stated Nico, pouring them identical drinks.

Artemis.

It was such an interesting name to Percy, undoubtedly Greek, complex and intriguing. Percy supposed he shared that Greek origin with this mythological figure: Percy's full name was Perseus, derived from a myth his mom had enjoyed as a kid.

It made Percy feel a bit like a farce.

But that was completely besides the point.

"She is strong and powerful, but also kind and passionate," Nico said with a bright, winning smile. (The kid really needed to smile more. It was a wonder the kid even talked to anyone with that kind of introspective nature.) "If you anger her, you will suffer grave consequences. Once a mortal man accidentally saw her naked in a river, and she turned him into a deer! It's a great thing she's on your side!"

Percy smiled up at the moon. Surely, the moon had to be on his side. It hadn't smite him yet for the staring.

Percy checked his skin. No fur yet. That had to be a good sign.

"Artemis," he murmured, just to taste the unique name on his tongue. He never had a name for the sphere above; he'd always just gone with "Moon" or "it." Sometimes, Zoë referred to the moon as "mah," from Persian. The names ended there, but of all the names, Percy liked Artemis. It felt real. It felt like when he stared at the moon, someone was staring back at him, equally enthralled and contemplative.

It was a thrilling, hopeful thought. It was a lie, but Percy could get behind a well-woven one.

Nico droned on about card facts about Artemis, and Percy listened intently. The noise gave way to the young man pulling out more cards: uninteresting figure-heads, that Percy quickly forgot the names of.

The ambience of Moon Liquor was sweet and chirpy, soft piano jazz playing and the perfect temperature all around. Percy itched at the collar of his uniform tuxedo, and he offered greetings to everyone who came in. The box next to him was still depressingly unfilled, but he tried to ignore it with another happy smile.

Six hours later, Percy's exhaustion was getting the best of him, but he put it away, behind a carefully manufactured employee façade. He used his pointer finger's nail to pinch the sensitive bends of his hand. This was his way of staying awake: pain. It hurt, and it stung, but it worked.

Then a new customer walked in.

The woman who stepped in was beautiful. Long, auburn hair was tied into a smooth braid; her skin was as pale as snowfall, unmarked and unblemished, ethereal as a goddess. She wore a set of studded black earrings that glittered darkly in the bar's light. She was wearing a silver-grey snow-jacket over a loose shirt and leggings, and she pulled the look with grace and confidence.

She looked somewhere in her early twenties, but there was something about her that felt...older. More present, like she'd lived a thousand lives in those silver eyes.

This was the kind of person Percy could never be: strong, powerful, probably rich; it made him a bit envious, but overall, wide-eyed at this beautiful woman.

The woman murmured, almost inaudibly, something like: "And to think Dionysus created such a place."

Percy blinked.

Before Thalia could get to the beautiful woman from the other side, Percy barged in, as smooth as a slice of butter. He walked over to her, the table stretching across them.

"Hello," he said. "I'm your bartender for the night. Can I get you started with anything?"

She stared at him unflinchingly. "Percy Jackson, is it?"

"So a local tipped you off," he said with an awkward laugh. He tilted his head, tipping a nonexistent top-hat in her direction. "That would be me. And who might you be?"

Her smile was predatory in nature. "I think you know the answer to that, Percy Jackson."

Percy's lips twitched, his eyes widening in confusion. This was very odd behavior...especially for someone who hadn't had a drop of alcohol yet.

"My name is Artemis, Percy Jackson," she said, her voice dripping in malice. "And I've come here for only one thing."


A/N: I hope you enjoy! I've had a complex relationship with Pertemis (from being skeptical, then analytical, then jumping on the bandwagon), which makes sense because Pertemis is such a complicated pairing. I just wanted to draw back from the chaos of the Percy Jackson universe, and focus on these two...kindred souls. In this story, Percy is a human; Artemis is a goddess. Funny thing is that I've never even touched alcohol, but this idea just came to me. Slow-ish updates, unless anyone is super passionate for quick updates. I know there's very little romance so far, but rest assured: I just wanted to flesh out the setting. Thanks for the read, and reviews are always appreciated!