Author's Note: Okay! So this is the first prompt that I got. It's from PixieKindOfCrazy, and I got it…lots of months ago. I don't know why it took so long to write, because I knew exactly what I was going to do for it…I guess I just didn't know how to do it.

But I figured it out. How did the blue joke between Sally and Percy start? Read to find out!

Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson. Obviously.

Pancakes

I had to stay at the candy shop later than usual. It was my turn to take inventory. I was pretty tired, and I hoped that I could just go home and take a break.

But when I opened the door to my apartment, I knew a break would be the last thing I'd be getting. My seven-year-old son was arguing with my husband, again. From the sound of it, they were arguing over dinner.

"It's not my job to make dinner, kid!" Gabe shouted. "Let your mother do it!"

"Stop being lazy!" Percy snapped back. "I'm starving!"

I pushed the door closed, loudly enough to get their attention. Percy saw me and beamed. "Mommy!" He ran to give me a hug.

I smiled. "Hey, Percy," I laughed. "What's going on in here?"

He pouted. "Gabe won't make dinner," he complained.

"Because it's her job!" Gabriel pointed at me.

I had to count to ten so I didn't snap back at him. I just had to put up with that guy. I hated being near him and his beer and his cigars. I really wished that I could leave that hideous man, but I couldn't. If I did, I'd be putting Percy in danger, and I couldn't imagine anything happening to him. I took a deep breath and put on a smile. "Well, then, Percy," I said, ruffling his midnight-black hair, "why don't you choose that we're having for dinner tonight? I'll make it for you."

"I get to choose?" Percy asked incredulously.

"Yeah, whatever you want," I said.

His eyes grew wide, and so did his smile. "Pancakes?" he asked.

Gabe narrowed his eyes. "Pancakes?" he repeated. "Your kid is retarded."

I felt like slapping him across the face. How dare he call my son retarded? As it was, Percy glared daggers at his stepfather. Seriously, if looks could kill…Gabe would be a dead man. "Am not!" Percy shot back.

"Kid, you can't even read, and you're seven years old," Gabriel countered.

I interjected, "He can't help it. He's dyslexic." If only you knew who he really was, I thought. You'd be bowing down on your knees. Before Gabe could give an answer, I took Percy into the kitchen. "What kind of pancakes would you like, Percy?" I asked him, grabbing the box of pancake mix from the cupboard. I kind of couldn't believe that I was actually making pancakes at six-thirty in the evening. I was definitely glad I was doing it, though.

I hated Gabe. I hated him so much. I refused to even change my name for him. He was the worst husband anyone could ever have, and I wouldn't wish for him to be with my worst enemy. He was always either drinking or smoking, most likely at the same time, watching ESPN in the living room with his friends, who also drank and smoked, until the whole apartment reeked so badly of cigar smoke and alcohol that it made me gag, and I would have to take Percy outside for a walk. I didn't want my seven-year-old in that kind of environment, and Percy made it no secret that he didn't want to stick around either.

So there we were, in the kitchen at dinnertime, pouring Aunt Jemima pancake mix into a bowl. I ran some water from the faucet into the bowl. The magic of instant pancake mix. Percy asked me if he could stir, so I handed him the big wooden spoon before turning on the stove. "What kind of pancakes do you want?" I asked again.

His stirring slowed down as he thought about it. "Um…" He trailed off. Then suddenly his green eyes lit up, like he'd just thought of the best idea in the world. "Can we make them blue?" he asked eagerly.

Blue? Hmm. I shrugged. "Sure, why not?" I replied.

I heard Gabe's voice from the living room. "There's no such thing as blue pancakes, Stupid."

"You're stupid," Percy muttered under his breath.

I turned toward the living room and crossed my arms. "Why can't there be blue pancakes?" I asked my husband.

"Because they don't exist."

"And why can't they?"

That's when he got up to look me in the face. I took a step back only because his smell made me nauseous. "There's no such thing as blue food, smarty."

"Yeah, there is," I shot back.

"No, there's not. And if you think there is, you're just as retarded as he is!"

I clenched my fists and crossed my arms again so I didn't punch him in his ugly face. I was seriously starting to question whether marrying this guy was the right thing to do. I hated him so much. Percy hated him. And he hated us back just the same, if not more. Why couldn't I just kick him out? Take his stuff and chuck it out the window. Make him leave so I never had to see his horrible face or his beer or his cigars or his poker cards ever again. Why couldn't I do that? Two reasons: 1) I had to keep Percy safe. Percy was my first priority, even though Gabriel made us both miserable. I had to keep my son safe and alive. 2) I hated to admit this, even to myself, but…Gabe scared me. He was terrible on a good day, but when he was drunk…he got violent. He would throw things and scream, and sometimes…he'd even threaten to beat me. I've never let Percy know about that last part. He didn't need to know.

But to answer back to Gabe's last remark, I told him, "Blue food is perfectly real. If Percy wants blue pancakes, I'll make him blue pancakes. If you didn't want 'imaginary' food, you should've made dinner before I got home. Smarty."

He answered, but I was already in the kitchen, so it was intelligible to my ears. "Percy," I said, "we're going to make some blue pancakes, alright?"

"Really?" he asked.

"Really."

He smiled, showing me the gap where his front teeth used to be. "Awesome!" he exclaimed.

I laughed. Percy's smile was all it took to cheer me up. I reached up to the cupboards over the sink, where I kept food coloring. I grabbed the dark blue bottle and had Percy keep stirring. "Watch this," I told him. Then, I poured a few drops of food coloring into the white batter.

"Whoa!" Percy's eyes grew even brighter. "You made it blue!"

I smiled even wider. "Yup. You wanted blue pancakes, right?"

All he did was grin. Then he gave me a quick but tight hug. "Thanks, Mommy!" he exclaimed.

I messed up his already messy hair. "No problem, honey," I answered. "Now, we put the batter in the frying pan, like so." I took the bowl from him and poured the blue batter into the frying pan, hearing it sizzle. After about five minutes, I flipped it, and after another five minutes Percy had a blue pancake on his plate, complete with butter, maple syrup, Cool Whip, and chocolate sprinkles—like a picture-perfect IHOP pancake. I should know; I worked at IHOP for a few months when Percy was a toddler. I think that's why he loved me to make him pancakes.

I made a blue pancake for myself as well, and we sat down to eat. "Want one, Gabe?" I called teasingly. I knew there would be no way he'd accept the fact that we had just made blue pancakes. He just looked over at the kitchen, scowling. "Told you," I said. "Blue pancakes are now real."

Percy laughed. "Yeah, Smelly Gabe," he agreed, sticking his tongue out. I toughed his arm and gave him a warning-look that said, Be respectful, please. He sighed, finishing his pancake.

"Why do you feed into that kid's nonsense?" Gabe grumbled. "He needs a serious reality check, but you're turning him into the world's biggest mama's boy."

I rolled my eyes. What was wrong with spending time with my kid? It wasn't like Percy had a real man to spend time with. Great role model you are, huh, Gabe? I felt like his comment didn't even deserve a response, so it didn't get one.

"I really do NOT understand you, Sally," he muttered. Then he returned his attention to the television, cranking up the volume on SportsCenter.

That's when I just started giggling like I was a freshman in high school again. I couldn't help it. I swallowed the bite of pancake that had been in my mouth so I didn't choke, but after that I was cracking up. My seven-year-old son was staring at me like I'd gone completely insane, and he was laughing, too, only because he thought I was nuts.

But I was laughing at the fact that I'd gotten Gabe. I'd gotten him good. It felt great, and his expression had been hilarious, and…I dissolved into more giggles.

"What's so funny?" Percy finally asked.

I shook my head, taking a deep breath to calm down. "Nothing," I told him. "I'm just happy."

"Me too," Percy told me. "Blue pancakes are awesome!"

They were, weren't they? I thought of all the other blue food I could eat: blue corn tortilla chips, blueberry pancakes, blue raspberry-flavored candy…and then there was always my handy-dandy bottle of blue food coloring. I think that's the exact moment when blue became my favorite color in the spectrum, and Percy's, too.

So I'm so happy I wrote this. It wasn't as fun to write as the last one, though. Which might sound weird, but it's true. It was still pretty fun, though.

So for now, I've got plenty of ideas for other one-shots and I'll ask for more when I need more, but for now, I'm good. Thank you so much for all of the nice reviews and ideas! I was kind of discouraged that no one reviewed Cold as Ice when I updated, but I'm so happy you guys reviewed this story!

Please continue to review! I'm serious; they make my day! Thanks Pixie for this one-shot prompt!

~Mandi2341