SUMMARY: Percy Jackson has a crush: on 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 Aphrodite laughs from above. Pertemis
"Percy Jackson."
The air around Percy became frigid with anticipation. Just as he'd finished his last thought, "I'm so lazy, aren't I?", a voice met his in the air, ominous and haunting. The wisps of hair on Percy's neck stood straight on end, and his heart shuddered in his chest. He was...on-edge. Taking in a thin breath of air, Percy started numbly walking across the kitchen's white floors, his gaze searching as if looking for a crime-scene, flipping his head, attempting to find the owner of the sound. It couldn't have been from nothing, from nowhere.
There has to be a source, the reasonable part of Percy's mind said, but he felt tense all over. He heard the distant, light chatter of the bar's patrons and the wind mildly rustling against the windows, but no one else was in the room besides him. He checked the windows silently, then moved backward.
Was Percy imagining things? Had his screwed-up life managed to surmount to this: hallucinations?
Hearing voices was not a good sign of...well, anything. It either meant Percy was slowly (if not already) going insane, or that there was an intruder. He wasn't a fan of either of the options.
"Percy Jackson," the voice said again. It was both a whisper and a command.
A command for what, Percy didn't yet know. There was familiarity in the voice's tone, as if they were old...friends. It was undoubtedly feminine, and there was an air of casual confidence. The voice had, for lack of better word, a presence to it. Percy liked it, but at the moment, while he was simultaneously confused and in panic, he shoved those thoughts aside. A robber might've already hijacked Moonlit Liquor for its rich supply of alcohol, and here Percy was...thinking about some pretty voice. He shook his head and pinched the in-betweens of his fingers.
"Percy Jackson," it continued, almost like an echo.
Percy stepped backward, accidentally slamming into a table and creating an echoing boom. His eyes widened, and he readjusted, his fingers digging into his palms. Something churned in his gut.
He was fine: completely fine, perfectly fine, utterly and indisputably fine.
And with this absolute calmness in his rapidly beating heart, Percy ran for the door, closed it with a thump, and let out a cry for help.
"So..." said Piper with a low whistle, about twenty minutes later. "This is...this is it."
Percy breathed deeply.
The kitchen was very much the same as it'd been a minute ago, or an hour ago, or...actually, months ago. Painted white walls, a clean table, a small silver dishwasher with hangers, and an ugly mop in the corner. It was simple and easy-to-use and not intimidating in the slightest. Piper walked across the kitchen, staring analytically at the windows and behind the backroom's cabinets and tables.
Piper's eyes, which gleamed bluish-green in the sharp light, seemed unsure and skeptical. "Well...er, Percy." Her sentence was cut off short when she ducked her head and opened the last remaining drawer. She popped her head back. "Well...that was something."
Percy's heart hurt in his chest. He felt very much like the mythological figure Cassandra from ancient Greece: a prophet who'd been ignored, even if all her predictions were true. Percy was absolutely, perfectly, one-hundred-percent sure he'd...heard a voice.
"I'm not lying," Percy said defensively. His lips twisted into an uncomfortable frown. "I heard my name being called by a woman."
"Maybe you were hearing Zoë in front," Piper said.
"It wasn't her voice."
"Maybe I accidentally said your name, and you were hearing that."
"It wasn't your voice," said Percy, his tone wreaking of exasperation. He let out a light curse. "Piper, you'd remember if you said my name."
"Well, I don't know," Piper replied back calmly. "I don't see or hear anything, Percy." Percy rubbed at his temples, stress hitting him in a series of painful waves, and Piper added, "If the noises are bothering you, I can handle the back. You handle the front in the time being...?"
Percy felt something painful in his chest. "Piper, what if there is an intruder in the back? I don't want you to be all alone."
"Jackson, your melodrama's showing."
"Can we both just work in the front for now? We can wash the dishes after a few hours have gone by." Percy's eyes looked to the window, then back to his friend. "Please. Just for a few hours."
With a reluctant brow propped up, Piper said, "Okay." She blew a strand of her chocolate-brown hair from her face. "That's cool with me." The look Percy gave her must've been too happy, and Piper's tone softened as she continued, "But seriously, Jackson, are you okay?"
"Yeah."
It wasn't like he was going crazy or anything. Just...hearing strange noises that no one else could. Just...feeling his heart jump out of his chest and proceed to tap-dance all over the floor. It was completely normal, though he could understand why Piper might not think so.
And with his week-long brood not far from Piper's mind, Percy could tell he seemed a bit...unhinged—probably not the most mentally stable, he reasoned.
"Great," Piper said, and she grabbed his hand. They walked through the door. Piper gestured at the counter and nodded at the line of people. "A margarita for the lady in black. Two shots of gin for the next guy. All right?"
"All right," Percy told her gratefully. He felt his hands instinctively reach for the glasses.
The routine was as easy as breathing for Percy. Sometimes, Percy thought, as his breath snagged a few times, it was easier than breathing. Percy didn't object when his hands flew towards the bottles and drinks, handling them with the practice of a professional bartender. The motions were hurried and mechanic, but it felt...good. At least it got him out of his thoughts, and at that point, that was all he could ever want. Although he felt Piper and Zoë's concerned stares flick over him multiple times, he felt himself relax his shoulders.
What Percy had heard earlier... Maybe it'd been the wind, maybe it'd been his mind. It didn't matter at the end of the day, he tried reassuring himself. He could ignore it, and it'd be gone by tomorrow. Surely.
Minutes teetered by, and Percy avoided looking outside.
Nighttime had never scared Percy. It'd just been part of the job description for working late-at-night in Moonlit Liquor. He liked the moon. He felt peace when he looked at the dark sky. But now, when he looked outside, he felt his heart lurch in his chest, nausea curling in his stomach.
While he was working, whistles of wind rushed past Percy's ears, and he shivered. It was a flinching, jerky movement, coldness grating on his nerves. He reasoned, It's just the A.C.
Percy smelled pine in the air, thick and heavy. Just someone's cologne.
Percy felt the moon glow brighter through the bar's window. Just an illusion. Just a hallucination. Just a—
"Percy Jackson," the same cold voice whistled by.
Percy stopped on the glass he'd been working on. From the corner of his vision, Percy spotted a very annoyed-looking old man crossed his hands and pointed at his watch. However, he felt frozen to the ground.
The man cleared his throat again, pointing more aggressively at the watch.
"Sorry," Percy murmured. He continued on the glass, every part of him tensing and tightening. "Thank you, sir, for your patience," Percy said, his tone slightly duller, as he handed the man the glass. In response, the man scoffed and left—but at the moment, Percy could care less about one annoyed customer.
A bad review online wasn't the end of the world. This, however...
Percy felt frozen. He wanted to do a million things at once, but of all these things, what Percy really wanted to do was grab his friends and run back to his apartment. He felt unsafe, and the fact that everyone around him was laughing and having a good time unsettled him.
And his name, with that specific voice, was like a ringing in his head. It didn't stop, and Percy resisted the urge to cover his ears tightly with his hands.
His name was uttered once more—"Percy Jackson"—that pretty voice wrapping around the separate syllables of his name, turning it into a melody. Percy's normal, common name had never sounded like this before.
Seconds passed, where Percy's mind came up with a thousand horrific scenarios.
Then finally, with Percy frozen, standing up, with a face of abject anxiety, the woman's voice continued on. This time, her voice not an echo:
"Well, aren't you a vision, Percy Jackson?"
Percy felt himself tense, then ease, just the slightest. Confusion rippled through his brain, but at least he was getting more information, instead of his breathy name, replayed over and over again. Understanding the words was harder though: A vision? Him? What the hell was that supposed to mean?
He let out a noise that was the in-between of "huh" and a gasp.
"Who are you?" he finally whispered. His voice was purposefully silent, blending in with the loud chitter-chatter of Piper's laughs, Nico's long-drawn explanations, and the screeching from the A.C. From a logical standpoint, talking to imaginary voices your mind makes up wasn't really the smartest thing to do. But Percy didn't care. If he was going insane, he might as well fall down the madness rabbit-hole self-aware.
There was no response.
He said again, this time more confident, "Who are you?"
A breeze swept past him, the coldness purposeful and dramatic. The voice let out a calm, smooth laugh. "I am Artemis, goddess of the moon." The moon in the window seemed to pulse brighter, as if in confirmation.
The goddess...of the moon?
Like in Greek mythology? The little cards Nico plays with? The stories Percy ignored as a kid?
How the hell was Percy supposed to respond to that?
Was he supposed to say: Nice to meet you. I'm Percy Jackson, human nobody, but you already know that since you've been whispering my name creepily?
"What do you want?" he said instead.
"I was only curious," Artemis said, assessing, "about a silly fool's infatuation."
Percy had a feeling that he was this "silly fool" she was talking about. He tried to connect the dots, but his heart constant hammer in his chest was making it difficult to think. He'd met an "Artemis" just yesterday, and she'd had the same distinctly cold, pretty voice. Same name, same voice, same hatred of all things Percy Jackson.
This was the same person.
And she was...
She was...
Unless Percy's brain was playing a massive game of pretend, he'd just talked to a...goddess. As in, a pretty immortal Greek woman with indescribable amounts of power. Who—at least this one in particular—hated him.
Percy wasn't buying that. His cynicism told him that it was anything but that. Maybe someone had plugged on a speaker in Moonlit Liquor and had gotten really a good voice-actress (then why can't anyone else hear her?), or maybe Percy had gone insane (really, Percy? That's the best you can come up with?).
He brought himself back to Artemis's callous words. "I'm not infatuated," he said thickly. "And I'm not a fool."
Artemis's laugh was both melodic and sinister. Percy hated it. Even though the voice itself sounded nothing like the snickering, finger-pointing children of middle-school, it had the same feeling to it. That of a playground bully laughing after pushing child-Percy headfirst down a slide.
"But the one thing I am is annoyed." Percy ground his teeth. "If I simply have to go crazy, then I should at least give myself a nicer hallucination."
The laughter stopped abruptly. Victory and pettiness warred in Percy's mind, and the moon darkened in warning, smears of greyish-black clouds dusting its edges. Percy wasn't sure how far insanity went, but he had the distinct feeling that maybe this wasn't it. Maybe the moon was doing weird creepy shit in the sky because of the moon goddess, not because of his sanity. Questions flared in his mind, little bits of "why?" and "how?" and "what the actual goddamn hell?"
Before Artemis could smite Percy for his insolence, he whispered, "Are you the same person from...?" He drew a breath and an epiphany. If that was true, then Thalia had... She'd... "Then why the hell are you here? What's going on?"
His eyes scanned around, and he felt his fingers twitch. Now that he'd calmed down in front of Piper, she seemed to be focused on serving, not babysitting Percy's mental state. So he was alone and tense. Why was Artemis specifically targeting him? Was it because he was a man, because of something he couldn't even control? But then he looked around, and the bar was filled with many of Percy's fellow male specimen, obliviously drinking away. It didn't make sense. Nothing was making any sense.
Nico's voice flitted through his head like a warning bell: If you anger her, you will suffer great consequences!
Oh. Fuck.
He tried weighing the pros and cons. To start, the pros: He wasn't dead yet. This was an excellent sign that he was doing something right. Cons: But perhaps, Artemis was the type of vengeful that liked slow, painful deaths. The thought soured his mood like foul milk.
Percy didn't really think much of his own death, being so young and all. He thought he'd save those thoughts for his midlife crisis, his thoughts more directed towards his mother, but right now...he felt a little bit frightened. A part of him told him to do something. It was that stupid little thing scientists called "human survival instinct," but Percy was frozen for options. What was he going to do? Fight the goddess? Him, a human, fight Artemis, the goddess of the hunt. He almost sputtered out a laugh. He'd be pegged down by an arrow before he even threw an unpracticed punch. Artemis was also clearly not present, and hence, the punch would fly through air. So...if he couldn't physically get out of his problems, he needed another solution...
Perhaps Percy could stand his ground.
Percy hadn't done anything to Artemis, except mildly annoy her with his presence and gender alone, and annoying someone wasn't a crime. What if this was all some big misunderstanding, and Artemis was attacking the wrong arrogant, cocky male?
"Where do you get all this audacity?" asked Artemis. She sounded almost curious. "To talk to me like that, Percy Jackson."
Percy had to try thinking about what he'd said wrong. He didn't recall anything.
"Look," he breathed, trying to hide his panic with a confident voice, "I don't know what you're talking about, but I don't know you. Sorry for whatever I told you that got on your nerves. I'm just doing my job and living my life, okay?"
For a few minutes, Percy was sure the voice had fled, surrendering. He felt almost giddy at the thought, wondering if he could put "made a goddess surrender (no, not like that)" on his résumé.
Then he looked at the sky, and he just...felt her, bright and present and shining so bright, as if she wanted to blind him from one look alone. Artemis's presence was as strong as perfume, and he just felt her there, watching him like a stalker.
He was almost going to say I can still feel you, but that felt weird. He caught himself in time to say, "I can still see you, you know."
The moon glowed back at him innocently.
"I'm not stupid," he snapped quietly. "I don't need you here. Go back to your godly heaven, and leave me alone."
Instead, Artemis's gaze ran over him once more. He felt his body react despite himself. Sweat covered his palms, and he wiped it away on the cloth. He hated the way he felt like a schoolboy, but Artemis had a way of pushing him down to that position. It just made him want to reciprocate.
"'A silly fool's infatuation,'" Percy echoed to her, contemplative. His tone tone gaining a gravelly quality, he said, "And yet out of both of us, you're the one who's acting creepy."
That gained him a flare of bright white light.
"See," Percy said, "you can't even show your face. You're so ashamed of becoming a 'silly fool.'"
"Watch where you tread, Percy Jackson."
After fetching and making the last customer in line a gin and tonic, he leaned down on the counter, rolling his head to face the marble. He didn't spare a single glance at the moon. His heart thundered in his chest, confident. "You're so petty—so goddamn petty," he said. "I stare at the moon, so what? I'm sad my friend leaving, so what? I'm a man, so what? It doesn't affect you."
Being cheeky wasn't a crime, but he recalled gods had killed for less.
However, when Percy was nervous or scared, he tended to put on a mask of indifference. Of confidence. He liked pretending he was better than he was. It was his way of coping.
Here was a goddess trying to unnerve him, trying to annoy him, trying to push his buttons. And Percy wanted to control the situation.
Artemis thought she was so high-and-mighty, and to a human, she was. He saw beyond that. To Percy, she was red-haired, freckled, Cheeto-munching Nancy Bobofit throwing sandwich-bites into his hair. She was another pig-nosed, rageful Matt Sloan snorting and smashing dodgeballs at his face. Percy didn't have his mom to protect him anymore. No one could help him, with a voice only he could hear.
"You being a man has nothing to do with this."
"I'm tired of arguing," he said, tilting his chin up. "If you wanted to kill me, or burn me to ash, or turn me into a deer, you would've already done it. I just want to finish this shift without talking to myself like a crazy-person. Is that too much to ask, oh-great-and-mighty-one?"
Artemis's tone was thick with annoyance, and it was marvelous. "This conversation is not over."
"Of course not," he said, and his sleep-deprived brain really got the nerve to say: "You can talk to me all you like after my shift, mm-kay?" He almost winked, but he was too tired to do a proper one. He only slowly blinked his eyes, but the message got across. He could practically taste Artemis's disgust, and at that moment, he just didn't care...
Percy Jackson had friends to visit tomorrow morning; he was going to be happy. No one, not even a goddess, could pull him down from his high. He'd gone through a long two weeks pettily mourning Thalia's departure. Now he was just tired of feeling bad. He was sick and tired of Artemis's small-minded hatred. Why was Artemis talking to Percy, when their last meeting had been weeks ago? Did Artemis think this was the best time to come waltzing down from her godly mountain to annoy some random guy?
"For a hunter, you really have some bad timing," Percy said and laughed.
Aside from a dark glower that shadowed over Percy, Artemis didn't respond, and her presence fled as well from the bar, not exactly cowardly but...contained. The moon dimmed and stayed like that, her emotion evaporating from its pale plains.
For the whole night, Percy enjoyed a long, peaceful silence.
A/N: Time really does fly by. Wow. Updates will be slow, slower than before, because things came up. I want to update at least twice a month, but we'll see. Good news though: I'm currently working on another Pertemis story, first chapter halfway written, so you can expect that in a week or so. It has slightly darker themes, but it might be a different take on what Pertemis can be. Thank you for over 200 follows and 50 comments. I'm thinking about doing something special on the 100th comment. We'll see.