Thanks to all you reviewers out there! I can't believe anyone actually likes this. I was expecting loads of flames. Many thanks for confounding my expectations! With that said, let me clear something up before anyone gets disappointed:

This isn't going to be superlemon. I'm sure many of you enjoy roaringly explicit-- er, I mean X-rated-- no, I mean-- hell, I mean what I mean. Porno. Well, I'm sure I could write that even though I've never tried and get plenty of readers, but I'm not going to, for very selfish reasons. Partly because I think there's enough of that stuff out there as it is and that honestly it's a bit embarrassing to read, but mostly because I personally find hintings and veiled allusions sexier than cocks-all-the-way and I'm the one writing this. If you haven't the patience for connecting your own dots, this may not be the fic for you.

That said....

Ch. III: Percy Doesn't Get Turned Into A Vegetable

When Apollo pulls up outside Percy's window, it is half an hour before sunrise is set to begin. He figures he could spend that long at least just watching the guy sleep, but people would get mad at him. They wouldn't understand the adorableness of the way Percy's nose wrinkles when he breathes, or the way his hair gets all sticky-uppy because sometimes he gets his head stuck under the pillow and Apollo has to take the pillow away because really, it would kind of suck if his young lover suffocated before they'd actually consummated (because Sally'd come home last night just as things were getting ear-lickin' good; no earwax-melting had as yet occurred, which was okay in relation to the earlicks, because ew, Apollo hates the taste of earwax)-- which was totally the point, no?-- or even the way he lurches into a sitting position, screaming over nightmares. So cute.

Apollo wishes Percy were screaming for him instead.

But there'll be time enough for that later. They have a planet to light up. He beams at his panicky paramour. "Good morning, Percy! Let's go for a spin. So we can talk. About you"-- meaningful eyebrow wiggle-- "And me."

"Apollo!" Percy stares, tousled, chest heaving. (Apollo swoons dramatically and almost falls off the windowsill.) "What's going on? What're you doing here?" He pauses, suspicious. "You haven't been there all night, have you?"

"Do I look like a vampire to you?" He'd taken a break to go pick up the Maserati around 4:45.

"Psh. No." Percy smiles, a mixture of snide and shy which makes Apollo's backbone momentarily into jelly. "You look better."

There is nothing the god of the sun would like better than to leap onto the bed right now and smother that infuriating, intoxicating boy with nibbles.

So he does.

"Hey! Hey!" Percy flails, the heat of his blush immediate against Apollo's face. "My mom's in the other room making breakfast! Don't--"

"She is? Excellent!" Apollo leaps up and makes for the door. "Then I can ask her for your hand in civil union!" He knows it's not quite the right phrase, but "ask her for your cock in five different kinds of living in sin" just didn't have the grand old ring to it.

Percy splutters and lunges after him, trailing sheets. "No! I mean-- please don't say anything about us. She thinks Annabeth and me are practically married. She doesn't know about Luke or anything."

Apollo sneers, but considerately. "A backstabbing player like him? Well, bluh."

"It's 'duh'."

"But I like 'bluh' better. It's more 'blah'-like." Smack.

"Just don't go out there, okay?"

"Whyever not, radiant radiance?" Smack.

"Mph-- quit trying to distract me with kissing! She'll freak if she hears us!"

"So quit yelling, then."

"I'M NOT YELLING!"

"Percy?" Mrs. Jackson knocks on the door. "Is everything all right in there?"

Before Percy can reply, Apollo swings open the door. "Hello, Percy's mother! Obviously, I'm Apollo, Lord of the Sun, so it's totally fine if I'm here, right?"

She blinks. "Well-- yes. Of course. May I offer you breakfast?"

"I may be able to grab something on the run," Apollo says with a private leer for Percy's benefit. "I've come to ask permission to take Percy--"

--Oh, gods, Percy thinks--

"-- with me in the sun chariot today for some company," the god finishes innocently. "Percy, I'm sure your mother doesn't appreciate you rolling on the floor clutching your skull like that."

Breakfast is a hurried affair. Mrs. Jackson has to get to work, but she still has time to lay out a few waffles and be courteous. Apollo peers at them keenly and asks why they are blue. Percy groans inwardly, but Mrs. Jackson doesn't seem to mind a bit; she tells them the story in the same engaging manner she used to tell Percy bedtime stories so many years ago, even though she's on her way out the door.

"I like your mother," Apollo tells Percy thousands of feet in the air. "I can see why old Unky chose her."

"Mm." Percy isn't really paying attention. He's looking at the sun god and thinking how different he is from Luke, even though they look so much alike. Apollo's happy. He's playful. He's... sunny.

Sunrise is over. Apollo's got some time to kill, so he parks on the White Cliffs of Dover, the king of all Make-Out Points, but Percy keeps dodging the issue.

"Quit dodging!" Apollo whines from the floor of the Maserati, where he'd landed after Percy dove for the safety of the hood for the third time.

Percy huffs in front of the windshield, breathless. "You haven't listened to a thing I said! Every time I open my mouth you try to stick something in it."

"I thought you liked biscotti. That's why I brought them for you."

"Who told you that?"

"Nobody. I see and know all, remember?"

Percy realizes the conversation is getting off track. He decides to get to the point. There's water below them, after all, so he can jump if Apollo starts slinging balls of fire or curses at him. "Look, Lord Apollo-- sir--- oh, whatever. I'm honored that you like me and, uh, want me and stuff, but I've heard all the stories. I know how you had Aphrodite shoot that princess Coronis; I know about Cassandra and Daphne and all those other people in the myths. And about how they usually had something bad happen to them because they got involved with you. Now, you can turn me into a frog or whatever..."

Apollo has propped himself up on one elbow on the floor. He's listening with a cultivated air of nonchalance. Percy can only guess what he's thinking. With great difficulty, because Apollo slides his shades down his perfectly straight nose and serves him up a come-the-hell-hither-right-now-and-I-do-mean-come look.

"Okay, see, that's what I'm talking about," Percy manages, even though his throat has miraculously morphed into spaghetti. "You're not fair to your lovers. You never have been. All you do is treat them like... like purse puppies, then as soon as they show some kind of initiative you zap them with a laurel-tree ray or dump crazy visions on them for the rest of their miserable lives. Apollo, just because you're a god doesn't mean you can do whatever you want--"

"Actually, it kind of does--" Apollo puts in with a smirk.

"Well, yeah, okay, that's true. But what I'm getting at is, it doesn't mean you should."

A pause. Apollo actually seems to be thinking this over. Percy takes his cue. "I'm sure you're a great guy to be with. But the fact of the matter is, you've made a lot of people unhappy. I don't want to be another one." Especially after all I've already been through.

Apollo bites his lip; Percy wonders if the god's aware of just how arousing the motion is, then decides he doesn't want to know. "Hmm. So what are you saying?"

Here goes. Percy squares his shoulders. "I'm saying consider that I've got my own feelings and my own thoughts. I'm saying if you care for me, you can't disappear for ages then lavish me with attention and think that makes everything okay, because it doesn't. I'm saying there's more to life than endless sex, and don't even try to play the all-powerful card with me because this isn't the B.C.'s any more and mortals are a lot less gullible now."

Apollo whistles, climbing onto the hood in front of Percy. "Have you been reading those healthy-self-esteem-and-codependence books?"

Percy looks shifty. "Annabeth gave me one a couple weeks ago. I think it was kind of a hint."

Another silence. This one is longer.

"Anything else you want to get off your chest?"

"Yeah. You."

Apollo gives Percy a little more personal space. Not that much more, but enough to make a difference.

"Anything else?"

"Well... Basically, I'm saying treat me like how you'd want to be treated if I were the god and you were the mortal." That shouldn't be too hard to understand.

Slowly, Apollo nods. He really looks like he's thinking. "Okay. Awright. How about we draw up a contract, then? You don't waste your time with anyone else unless you can prove to me they're more important to you than me, and I'll do the same."

"You take your brain out of your pants once in a while, because even teenage guys think about other things than sex once in a while, and I promise I won't be a prude even though I'm pathetically inexperienced."

Apollo stares. "What, you mean like nothing? Ever? What about with Mister I'm-So-Troubled?"

Percy turns redder than the Maserati. "Um. No. We were more of a be-emo-together couple."

Ah. One of those. "What about with A--"

"No, okay? No!" Percy's obviously very sensitive about this. Naturally Apollo doesn't notice.

"Not even a b---"

"No!"

"Or a h---"

"No!"

Apollo shakes his head. "We're gonna have to remedy that. On your terms!" he adds hastily, catching Percy's eye. "Because I am nothing if not a progressive and modern-thinking god!"

"Sure. Your turn."

"You promise not to get yourself killed."

"You promise to protect me."

"You promise to listen to my haiku, because nobody else does. I can't hide from it any longer."

"You promise to be a buddy, not just a lover. And to at least pretend to be nice about it when I get wimpy, because I've just been through a really smart girl who needed me to be more talented than I'll ever be and a really tough guy who needed me to be stronger than I'll ever be, and I'm ready to be the chick for a while."

"You promise not to tell anyone about this unless I say so," they say at the same time, then chuckle.

Apollo is greatly amused by this. This game is fun! More fun than he ever had with the nymphs and Greek girls! He's more challenged than ever. He barely even blinks when Percy demands, "Swear on the River Styx?"

"I'll do better than that." He gathers his new prize into his arms. "I swear," as his mouth finds Percy's, "on the River Lips."

Of course, Percy makes him swear the real oath and almost clocks him one when he keeps pretending to mess it up. But it was still a good line to end the conversation with.

a/n

You just know things are going to go all fruity... er, I mean pear-shaped. How long do you think they'll keep it up before someone finds out?

Also, I apologize for the lack of hysterically amusing bits. And I'll go back and add in the chapter titles later.