18. Nightmare

Paul woke to a silent apartment. There was nothing inherently unusual about that. In the distance, he could see hear the backdrop of city life as the city that never slept lived up to its name, but within the confines of their little apartment, all was still and quiet. Sally slept peacefully beside him. Paul gently detangled himself both from her embrace and the blankets, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead as he padded out of their bedroom.

The last year had been wrought with many sleepless nights. At least now they knew where the boy that should sleep in the room beside them was. Or that he had the freedom to be there, Paul corrected as he peeked into his stepson's room. The sight of the empty bed had caused much anxiety and heartache months before. Now, the sight of the mussed blankets, pillow thrown across the room, caused anxiety and heartache for an entirely different reason.

"Percy?" Paul tried softly, unsure where his stepson was but equally certain that if he was within hearing range Percy would answer.

Sure enough, there was a moment of silence before Percy's window open and the boy pulled himself through.

"Percy," Paul half-chastised, half-fretted as he instinctively moved forward. "That's not safe, it rained yesterday."

The words fell off Paul's lips as he reached out to help Percy back inside the room and the irony of them didn't settle in until Percy rose an eyebrow. Paul supposed sitting on the fire escape was marginal on the list of dangerous things his stepson had done but still. Percy didn't call Paul out on it, merely shrugging with a "sorry" as his feet touched the carpet again. He looked exhausted, but more telling to his stepson's dilemma was the way his eyes flickered around the room, canvassing every corner, fingers clenched tightly at his side.

Nightmare. Again. That seemed to be the only way Percy slept anymore, if sleeping was even what you could call it.

"Want me to make you some tea?" Paul asked uncertainly, not sure what else to do.

"It's fine," Percy said, absently reaching out to touch Paul on the arm.

He'd been doing that a lot since he returned, almost unconsciously reaching out as if to assure himself that they were real and not figments of his imagination. It made Paul's heart clenched, his fingers flexing in distress of their inadequacy to fix this, to make the nightmares and the pain go away.

"C'mon, just one cup," he pressed, ushering Percy gently out of the bedroom.

Percy made no response but let himself be guided to the couch, eyes warily taking in the shadows of the apartment, muscles wound tightly. His knees locked up for a moment when Paul tried to get him to sit. Percy grabbed Paul's elbow, looking a little wild for a moment before he realized there was no danger and, grimacing, sat of his own accord.

"Sorry."

"It's alright," Paul promised.

He bustled off to the kitchen, making a quick cup of tea before returning to find Percy exactly where he left him: sitting ramrod straight on the couch, eyeing the television as though he expected a monster to pop out any moment.

"Here." Paul pressed the cup into Percy's hand and the boy took it with half an apologetic smile.

Percy methodically drained the cup, body held stiffly and eyes ceaselessly flickering around the apartment. He seemed to be humoring Paul more than anything and when he began to stand to put away the cup, Paul took it from him and set it aside on the end table.

"Is there . . . is there anything I can—?"

"No Paul it's fine," Percy said in a flat tone.

"Well, it's really not."

"I know." Percy gave him half a smile. "Go to bed, Paul."

"I'd rather stay here, if it's all the same with you."

Percy gave a little huff, smiling down at his hands. "Alright then."

"Why don't you try laying down?" Paul suggested. "With your back to the couch."

So you can still keep an eye on the room, went unsaid.

Percy thought about it. "Okay."

Paul began to stand but Percy shifted on the couch, pulling his legs up and . . . plopping his head right onto Paul's leg, knees bending to an undoubtedly uncomfortable degree to fit his lanky frame into the tight space. Paul froze in surprise, hand hovering in the air as he stared wide-eyed down at the demigod. Percy seemed to recognize his discomfort a moment later because he started to move, a flush spreading across his cheeks. Paul recovered himself quickly, carding his fingers through Percy's hair once before resting them on the curve of his shoulder.

"Go to sleep," Paul whispered. "I'll watch out for you."

"Hm," Percy muttered, still blushing faintly in embarrassment over his moment of neediness.

Paul wished he could say something to dispel the embarrassment but felt that anything he might say would just embarrass Percy more so he said nothing, opting instead to squeeze Percy's shoulder and stay silent, watching over the demigod as he eventually fell into an uneven sleep.

A/n I love when Percy falls asleep on people who love him okay? I know it's a bit overused in this collection at this point but I also don't care.

Up next: Hypoxia