Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Character ages this chapter:
Michael – 15
Alice – 12
Lee – 16

+1) Michael

"Michael, I want to do your hair."

Halfway through tugging a brush through said hair, Michael turned around to face his younger sister. Alice looked at him stubbornly, her hand outstretched expectantly. He looked at it, and then her face.

"Why?" he asked bluntly, with some hidden trepidation. Alice had turned up at camp for the summer with her light brown hair dyed jet black complete with several random purple highlights cutting through it, a taste for dramatic makeup, and the underlying feeling of a preteen girl preparing herself for a full teenage rebellion. He'd hardly recognised her when she'd walked into the cabin a few weeks earlier.

"Because you've got the longest hair in the cabin and I want to do it," she said brazenly. "Brush, give."

Michael blinked, then deliberately turned his head to look at the rest of his siblings, who had all stopped their morning preparations to watch what was probably going to be the pre-breakfast entertainment for the day. Lee was grinning, clearly amused, and Michael rolled his eyes at their head counsellor – whose hair was, admittedly, shorter than Michael's – before instead deliberately staring at Dawn, Joy and Phoebe, whose hair all fell somewhere below their shoulder blades to mid-back, and then at the corner of the cabin where Robyn was brushing out her shoulder-length hair with a smirk on her face, before finally settling on the bunk next to his, where Sally was giggling and Elias, whose dreadlocks went down to his fucking butt, was failing to stifle a laugh.

Slowly, he faced Alice again, meeting her eyes squarely and raising an eyebrow.

"I have the longest hair in the cabin," he deadpanned. "Really?"

"Yes," she said, and Michael glanced briefly at Lee out of the corner of his eye, but his older brother didn't seem bothered by her lie so he let it be. "Also because your hair is really pretty and I want to do it."

"It's just hair," he protested, well aware he was being a hypocrite given how much the freedom to let it grow had meant to him when he'd got to camp, and that he was picky about how long it should be.

"So there's no problem, then," Alice retorted, "if it's just hair." She flexed the fingers on her outstretched hand impatiently. "Hand the brush over."

Michael eyed her for a moment, trying to assess if she'd respect no as an answer or be a bitch about it. Twelve year old girls were a headache. If she was going to be a genuine entitled bitch then he had no issues with telling her to shove it – he had an entire cabin full of witnesses, and Alice would get a lesson on boundaries.

But, twelve year old preteen rebellion aside, this was still Alice, his outspoken and extroverted yet kind little sister. She hadn't snatched the brush out of his hand, or made any move to actually force him. It was blunt, and her lie was obnoxiously outrageous, but Alice had always been a little blunt.

He glanced over at Lee again, the only one in the cabin that might have any idea why he might be wary, and this time his older brother caught his look, and sent him a grin back.

"Go on, Michael," he called out, as though he was randomly jumping in and not replying to Michael's silent question. "Let her have some fun. You might even have fun, too."

Lee thought it was safe, then. Michael sighed, rolling his eyes and flipping Lee the bird, just because he could, to a mock-offended squawk before he tossed his brush up in the air, flipping end over end until he snatched it back, now holding the head.

"Fine," he caved, putting the handle of the brush on her palm. Instantly, her fingers wrapped around it. "Nothing outrageous," he told her, not yet releasing the brush himself. He met her eyes firmly. "No dye, and no cutting."

She gave him a massive grin. "I wasn't going to," she promised; there was no deflation in her posture or attitude, so Michael believed her, and the small knot of trepidation in his throat loosened. He let go of the brush, and immediately her free hand latched onto his wrist. "Over here!"

Alice led him over to her bunk, tucked in the corner of the cabin next to the bathroom door, and ordered him to sit. He chose the floor rather than the bed, leaning back on his hands, and she didn't protest so she must have been fine with that. It only took a moment before he felt her sitting down behind him, close enough that her feet nudged his hands, and then her fingers were in his hair.

It only took her a moment to realise that his hair had only been half-brushed when she'd interrupted him, because her gentle finger-combing was quickly replaced by the familiar sensation of his brush. She went though a section at a time, teasing out the knots that had formed overnight, and hummed a little as she worked.

Michael sent a glare at the rest of the observing cabin, and one by one they got the message and returned to their own pre-breakfast routines, although they kept glancing over. Was him letting Alice to his hair that interesting?

His thoughts got interrupted by a sharp tug on his scalp and he froze, the knot of trepidation retying itself in his throat again. Alice wouldn't…

"Stupid knot," Alice muttered behind him, and soft fingers grasped the section of hair close to his roots. The next few tugs on his scalp were much, much softer, until she made a noise of triumph and there was no more tugging. Slowly, Michael relaxed again. No, Alice wouldn't.

A few minutes later, he felt her fan his now tangle-free hair out across his shoulders, passing through it a few more times with the brush before he heard her set it down on the floor next to her.

"Styling time!" she declared, loudly enough to catch the attention of the rest of the cabin again. "Stay still, Michael."

"As long as you don't screw it up," he replied, but obligingly tilted his head back a little as her fingers scraped through his hairline, raking his hair away from his face. "What are you planning?"

Alice laughed at him. "Wait and see," she chirped, the excited sing-song of a pre-teen, and Michael sighed fondly.

"You remember the rules," he prompted, and her fingers didn't even hesitate as she promised again no hair dye or cutting, so he let himself relax.

It was immediately apparent that she wasn't going to just tie his hair in its usual low ponytail and be done with it, but Michael hadn't expected that anyway, not from Alice. He felt her split his hair into two, pulling one side into a ponytail before she moved around until she was next to him, rather than behind him.

Whatever she did involved starting at his temple. "Stay still," she repeated, and Michael obliged as his hair started moving. It didn't take long to recognise the feeling as a braid – Ceri had been right, all those years ago, and Michael had braided his hair on occasion to keep it out of the way, although usually a ponytail was good enough and took less effort – although as her fingers kept scraping at his scalp, he realised she wasn't doing a basic braid.

Still, braids of any sort were acceptable, and he relaxed as she made her way along his scalp and down to the nape of his neck, tying it off tightly before freeing the other half of his hair from its temporary ponytail and brushing it back out again quickly.

This time he knew what to expect when she shifted to sit on his other side, running her fingertips through his hair a couple of times before no doubt mirroring her work from the first side.

She was interrupted by the click of a polaroid camera, when Michael instinctively whipped his head around to find the culprit. "Michael!"

"Lee!" he yelled, seeing his older brother peering around one of the bunks, camera in hand. The traitor just laughed at him as the photograph fell out of the bottom, to be caught by nimble fingers and flapped around. "Lee, I swear-"

"I told you to stay still!" Alice protested, interrupting him as she tugged his head back around. "Ignore Lee. Geez, now I have to start this side again."

"He took a fucking photo," Michael grumbled, but acquiesced and settled back down as her nimble fingers detangled the mess he'd just made of the half-done braid before starting again.

"I'll give you a copy!" Lee called, and Michael scowled.

"You'd better," he muttered under his breath. From her laugh, Alice heard him.

"I want one, too!" she demanded, and that sparked the rest of the cabin clamouring around Lee for a look at the developing image, and also demands for their own copies. Lee just laughed at all of them and used his height to hold it up, out of reach.

"Later, guys," he chided playfully. "Michael and Alice get first dibs once they're done." He put the camera and polaroid on the unoccupied bunk above his, and made shooing motions with his hands. "Anyway, you're all supposed to be getting ready for breakfast!"

There was a chorus of grumbles, but the whole cabin reluctantly moved back to their various routines. Michael watched them in amusement, finding that he was enjoying being able to be lazy and let someone else deal with his hair, for all that his hair wasn't ever much of a chore to deal with.

Alice made quick work of her second attempt at the other half of his head, and it wasn't long before Michael could feel her finishing off the second braid at his nape as well. He expected that to be it – his hair wasn't that long – and was surprised when she started fiddling with the ends of the two braids, pushing and pulling lightly at the nape of his neck. There was the rattle of pins, and then pressure as bobby pins slipped into his hair. Michael held cautiously still as she worked, not used to pins in his hair.

Eventually she hummed, and her fingers felt more like they were fiddling for the sake of fiddling than actually doing anything. "Can I use hairspray?" she asked him. If she'd asked at the start, Michael would've said no, but at this point he was committed to whatever she'd done, and hairspray washed out.

"Whatever," he shrugged, and the fingers playing with his hair gained more fervour, pinching and tugging lightly at the braids.

"Yay," she cheered. "Close your eyes. And your mouth."

Michael had no intention of finding out what hairspray tasted like, and obeyed. There was the hiss of an aerosol can for a few seconds, then Alice tapped him on the shoulder.

"All done!" she chirped. He opened his eyes to see a hand-held mirror being shoved in his face, and grabbed it before she could actually hit him in the face with it.

His hair had been braided back on both sides – not the basic braid he knew how to do, but one of the fancier ones that kept bringing more hair in as it went. Turning his head to one side and then the other showed them running all the way back, but he couldn't see the ends.

Another mirror appeared behind him, held up by smug-looking Alice, and he adjusted the mirror he was holding until he could see the back of his head. The ends of the braids had been intertwined together neatly, and while Michael couldn't see the pins, he knew they were there, holding it in place.

"Well?" Alice demanded. "What do you think?"

The cabin had fallen silent again, all of Michael's siblings not-so-subtly eavesdropping on the conversation. He didn't need to look at them to know they were all inspecting his new hairstyle, too.

It definitely wasn't Michael's usual style – it was far too intricate, and time-consuming, for that – but Alice clearly knew what she was doing when it came to hair styling. "Looks good," he told her, inspecting it in the mirror for a moment longer before setting it down and pulling himself to his feet. He held out a hand to her with a small grin, and she beamed back at him as she took it so he could pull her up, too. "Thanks."

"You're welcome!" she chirped, wrapping him in a quick hug. "Lee, get photos!"

"Already on it!" their head counsellor promised, retrieving the camera from the empty bunk and pointing it at Michael again. "Smile!"

Michael flipped his middle finger, much to Alice's amusement, before getting a younger sister draped over his shoulders, holding up two fingers in a victory pose. He shot her a grin, putting his finger back down, and heard the camera click again.

"Nice one, Alice," Lee called. She giggled in Michael's ear, and stayed draped over him like a shawl for a few more photographs before sliding away to finish getting ready for breakfast. Michael scooped up his hairbrush from the floor and headed back to his own bunk, snagging his boots to pull them on.

Today was going to be a good fucking day.

Not quite in chronological order here, as we step back a year compared to last chapter, but after so much braiding, it's time for Michael to get some himself! This whole fic was a lot of fun to write, albeit a challenge given I don't usually write fluff for Michael, whoops!

Thanks for reading!
Tsari