Hi! Summer here. In this chapter, we introduce FGOTUS (First Gentleman of the United States) Percy. He's grown up in a world with no magic. All the magical dangers that Percy experienced in the series written by Rick Riordan were replaced by more typical dangers and experiences. Percy's magical quest to stop Gaea was a tour of Europe with his friends. The perils of Camp Half-Blood were simplified to druggies and creeps hanging out in the woods. How did this version of Percy end up?
- Summer

FGOTUS (First Gentleman Of The United States) Percy:
"C'mon, Percy." Annabeth poked me in the side. "Wake up, Seaweed Brain."

"Noo…" I groaned. "It's too early." I blinked wearily and looked at the clock on my bedside table. It was 5:00 A.M. Too early, even for Annabeth. I was exhausted, I had fallen asleep at 2:00 A.M, after being held up until 1:30 at a ball we had held. I remembered having parties when I was younger, fifteen or so. One time, Leo had got his hands on alcohol, something strong, and we had all gotten drunk on a cruise ship, traveling on a tour through Greece. We had spent the night laughing at anything and everything, stumbling around the deck, daring each other to do dumb things. I had gone to the tallest point on top of the mast and jumped into the Aegean Sea fully clothed. Hazel had vomited all night, and we had all woken up hungover, our heads spinning. The ball wasn't that kind of party. We were visiting Long Island. Our private jet had landed at 3:00 P.M.

One of the sucky things about being the eighteen-year-old husband of an eighteen-year-old president is dealing with people our age. As we walked to our armored car, secret service agents set up a gate along our path to control the crowd.

"SIGN MY FACE, PERCY!" screamed a hysterical girl. I inhaled sharply through my teeth and turned away. I had learned the hard way that those types of people were the kind that followed you home and then had a standoff with the secret service and got arrested and- Ok, yeah, I learned the hard hard way.

The even suckier thing about being anyone with any spotlight at all is dealing with those kinds of people when they're older than you.

A guy, thirty or forty years old, stuck a camera in my face. I winced and blinked as the flash went off, probably producing a blurry picture of me making the most embarrassing face which would spread on social media like a wildfire- With those kinds of people, the only way to learn is the hard way.

Annabeth and I were holding hands, comfortably and naturally. At least, it was comfortable, until Annabeth got impatient and tightened her grip, discreetly pulling me forward. I had a tendency to get flustered around paparazzi, but she was always able to keep a cool head. I followed her into the car that was waiting for us, and we both relaxed the moment we got inside. The windows were tinted so darkly that no one would be able to see through. "

Hm. That wasn't even half as bad as I thought it would be," Annabeth commented lightly. "For the first visit to a state, that was downright tame." I groaned, leaning back in my chair. Annabeth playfully smacked me on the head with a thick file full of papers that she had been reviewing. I saw the driver smiling. I wanted to ask Annabeth how she felt about being in Long Island again - after all, we had spent every summer at Camp Half-Blood. Nobody knew why it was named Camp Half-Blood. It was just a typical summer camp, after all. Annabeth and I still kept our t-shirts, light blue, worn-out things with the words Camp Half-Blood printed across the top. A horse rearing up on its hind legs was printed underneath it. I decided against it - too many memories, both good and bad to bring up in this car.

The driver and a few secret service agents sat in the front and back rows. Our motorcade began to roll forward. In case you didn't know what was inside a presidential motorcade, here are my favorite parts; a buttload of police cars and motorcycles, an ambulance full of medics, an armored vehicle identical to our own as a decoy, an air team following us from the sky in case they needed to evacuate Annabeth and me from the sky, and sharpshooters positioned along the rooftops in case of trouble.
Did that last one make me nervous? Yes. Yes, it did.

We went to a ball, held at Theodore Roosevelt's old house. Every time I tried to make an excuse to go to the room I was staying at, a politician, or a member of the press would stop me for a 'quick chat'. So, I ended up finally stumbling up to my room in a tired daze at 1:30, and falling asleep at 2:00 A.M. Needless to say, I was tired. Much too tired to be awake at this ungodly hour.

"What?" I mumbled. Annabeth was sitting upright in bed, trying to shake me awake. I deliriously muttered something about needing donuts, then rolled over, putting my head in her lap. She stroked my hair for a moment, then, without warning, pushed me out of bed. I fell onto the carpeted floor of our room, wincing as the cold air made contact with my skin.

"Ow! Annabeth!" I whined. She shrugged, obviously struggling to hold back a smirk.

"It's time to wake up."

"Where the hell are we going?" I asked, walking the thin line between being playful and Irritable.

"Oh, Percy. Why don't you remember anything?"

"I don't need to remember anything when my wife can remember everything." the word 'wife', which at first had seemed stiflingly formal, had started to grow on me. It gave me a little thrill of joy and excitement at the prospect of spending my entire life with Annabeth.

"I have a meeting with the head of the Department of Commerce," she said.

"And what does that have to do with me?" I asked. She rolled her eyes.

"Percy, I swear… You have a meeting with the press. You know, introducing your program and all that." I inhaled sharply, all my fatigue replaced with a nice mixture of terror, anxiety, and terrifying anxiety. Let me explain. Every spouse of the president has certain duties, such as planning parties (The party part is fine, the planning awful), appearing at gatherings, chatting with important people, and the list goes on. And it. Is. Awful.

At parties, I'm usually the guy who arrives late at a party they said they weren't going to, gets totally wasted, does something idiotic that other people laugh at, and wakes up, hungover in a bathtub full of empty beer cans. (True story). Now, I get to be the one who arrives first at a party they planned, stays sober, makes sure everyone is having a good time and goes to bed in a timely fashion. (Except for the one night when I actually wanted to, in which case it was impossible to escape the hordes of politicians.)

There was one thing I had been excited about - every First Lady or Gentleman was expected to start one or two programs or promote causes that they believe are important. I had been anxious about the initial decision. There were hundreds of options - it seemed impossible to choose one - until I happened to see my friend Nico, a goth 15-year-old who had had a crush on me for the longest time. Coming out hadn't been easy for him, even to his closest, supportive friends. It made me wonder what LGBTQ+ kids must be going through all over the world. So, I hatched my plan - I was going to try to push for acceptance and set up a program that would offer support to kids struggling with their identities all over the country. Today, I would be introducing the idea to the public.

I had been in plenty of bad situations before. I've had drunken standoffs with dangerous men in alleys, I've had a gun pointed at my head a couple of times. Camp Half-Blood wasn't always the safest. The woods were full of creeps, druggies, and bad people. Our tour of Europe with Hazel, Frank, Lea, Jason, Piper, Annabeth, and I hadn't been much safer. Sketchy people lurking around every corner. Every single one of us had almost been mugged at least twice. Annabeth still carried a pocket knife on her belt. I had learned that carrying a knife was a good way to get held up in airplane security - I was too forgetful to remove it. However, I had found that a ballpoint was ok for stabbing people's eyes. I carried one in my pocket.

My point is - despite all that, I'd never been more nervous in my life. So, it took all my courage and Annabeth's hand holding mine to be able to walk out of the door, get into our car, and let myself be escorted to my interview.

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