Notes: All right, so I realize I have a horrible pun for a chapter name. Possibly another one for the drabble collection itself. But I can't help it, dammit. I'm addicted to bad puns. Or terrible pun like things, at any rate.

Dampened Dates

For a while there, he'd thought everything would go well.

Of course, at the time, Percy had to admit it made perfect sense. They were in a semi-fancy restraint in semi-formal clothing. They were smiling at each other over the menu and trying to decide what the best food for the most economical price would be. Her eyes had crinkled up at the corners, and he had been grinning like a goofy idiot. There was an almost palpable tension in the air that assured him that, oh yes, his efforts were going to pay off and he was most definitely going to get some tonight.

Then a hydra (a freaking hydra, of all things) had to come in via the kitchen in a stream of acid, which was not something they had thought about ordering.

Annabeth's eyes stopped crinkling, and she glanced at the monster.

"Oh look," she remarked, somewhat dispassionately, "It's a multiheaded monster ruining our date. For the... twenty-eighth time now, was it?"

"Ninth," Percy muttered, wishing he didn't have enough pride to eschew going to a corner and crying his eyes out.

"Really?"

"If we count the thing with the hot dog vendor and the Canadians, yeah."

"I don't think we can get away with being politically incorrect anymore, Percy," Annabeth rolled her eyes, "Do you want me to pronounce it slowly and clearly for you? Lai. Stry-"

"Acid cloud!"

There was a tussle. It involved screeching and screaming and Annabeth raiding the kitchens with a tablecloth. Fifteen minutes later, what was left of the hydra was turning into dust, the other customers were staring them with sheer horror in their eyes and a short, stout man with a determined expression was steadily making his way towards them.

Again. Of course.

The manager hadn't come down to tell him thank you for saving his customers from becoming main course either. His rant was more along the lines of you-delinquents-get-out-of-here-before-I-call-the-police. Percy wasn't surprised or disappointed; he knew the people in charge tended to get mad when things burned down on their watch. He knew it intimately.

Another five minutes later, they were walking despondently down the street, their clothes a mess half eaten by acid and half scorched by fire.

"So?" asked Percy. He knew this routine.

"I rented Clash of the Titans this time. It's fun to watch."

"Don't you have any faith in me?" he wondered.

"It's not a matter of faith," Annabeth said, "You just always have a backup plan."

"You don't have any faith in me," he surmised.

"When it comes to this?" Annabeth said, "No. But cheer up. We'll spend the rest of the night making out anyway."

Well, at least he knew how to take the positives where he could find them.