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

"I think she has a crush on you."

"What."

Eyebrows scrunched up, sea-green eyes darker than they'd ever been, nose wrinkled. He looked like he might puke on the spot, or punch something, or possibly both. The disgust he felt was so prevalent that he felt like he could choke on it—the horror, the confusion, the stress. All of those painful emotions came quickly crashing back to him in waves, and it was odd, wasn't it? After all, wasn't this release of information supposed to relax him? Supposed to fill him with relief?

All of the stressful emotions just seemed to intensify.

Surely it wasn't Piper's intention, but still, it was like a phantom hand was squeezing around his heart.

Gross. That was a good word for it. Piper's sudden declaration felt gross.

Percy had told Piper about Artemis, in some ways. He had told her all truths—a customer had been bothering him, annoying him, belittling him, making him feel small. He had told her about being whisked off to a restaurant at nighttime, where said-customer had made it explicitly clear that she both hated him and thought he was nothing at the same time. Percy told Piper about the empty feeling he got afterward, like he was the smallest piece of non-existence in the universe, and that jittery, wrong sensation in the pit of his stomach.

Piper had leaned on the white windowsill, soaking up his words. She nodded and shook her head at appropriate times, eyes brimming with empathy.

Although Percy had failed to mention that said-customer was a Greek goddess, he thought the general idea had gotten across to Piper relatively well.

But—

I think she has a crush on you.

The disgust resurfaced.

Piper straightened up, apparently noticing Percy's expression. She winced. "Um, I'm not tryna diminish your discomfort, Perce. But...it's a bar. Everyone's drunk. Everyone's hitting on everyone. She just sounds like a crazy lady who's had too much to drink."

Percy opened his mouth to interject.

But Piper swooped in and continued: "Don't take what I'm saying completely seriously, but come on, you must've noticed too, Percy. A five-star, upscale restaurant? She bought you wine? She was being super passive-aggressive? It was a date, Jackson."

"Piper, what the fuck?"

"I'm just trying to be honest with you," Piper told him. She sounded resigned. Her eyes were dark, even while bathed under morning light. "Not saying it's a good thing or anything."

Percy's eyes widened, and his mouth was left hanging ajar. Shock flushed color on his cheeks, and to calm himself, Percy took a very deep, very irritated breath... What Piper was suggesting was nonsense, he reasoned. It had to be.

It was obvious to anyone that Artemis hated him. It was as obvious as the sun in the sky.

Piper was being preposterous. The idea of Artemis having a...crush was beyond disgusting; Percy shirked back at the thought. He felt nauseous.

"That doesn't make any sense," Percy said staunchly. "She hates me. She constantly talked about my worthlessness."

"She's projecting," Piper said. "Don't let her control you like that, Percy." Her eyes, darkened previously, were filled with so much emotion. "You're my best friend. I can't allow for some rando to hurt you."

"I'm not hurt—"

"You look hurt," Piper interjected. "Don't let her get into your head. An asshole stays an asshole, even if they do have a crush." Piper took a deep breath, her eyes downcast. "I'm not saying the crush thing to excuse her nasty personality, by the way. I just thought...well, just making guesses from what you said. But beside all that, I really don't want her bothering you anymore." She put a hand on his shoulder, sliding next to him. "You know, you have the right to refuse service to anyone who steps into Moonlit. Use it."

And Piper said it so...calmly. It seemed so obvious when she put it like that.

On the glittery, black background of Moonlit Liquor was a red-printed sign of WE RESERVE THE RIGHT TO REFUSE SERVICE TO ANYONE. It had only been used against minors trying to sneak into the bar and the few violent drunks they'd unfortunately encountered, but Percy figured it could also be used for discrepancies like verbal abuse and cruelty to staff. Percy had known about it, in the back of his mind, but it just didn't seem applicable in his situation.

After all, Artemis was a goddess.

There was that nagging part he left out from the conversation. He'd purposefully held it back from Piper. Why would he want to say it, after all? Piper would undoubtedly, like any sane person would, question Percy's sanity. Goddesses? Olympus? Magic? It all sounded loony. And Percy didn't think he could deal with that label at the moment, not in the fragile state of mind he was in.

So that left him with lacking advice and a gaping feeling in his stomach.

Artemis. The right to refuse service. Artemis—being a goddess.

In other words, a little sign wouldn't stop her. The thought was laughable. It also filled him with an overwhelming tide of panic.

But would Artemis come to bother him again?

She hadn't smote or turned him into an animal when he'd left the restaurant the previous night, essentially running away and denying her in a very reckless manner. This was a good sign. This meant that maybe, after all of this, it would be over.

Maybe he'd been a passing fancy (or whatever the hell the opposite of "fancy" was). The goddess had mistakenly attributed some deep hatred onto him, but now, after last night, she'd realized her mistake. She'd realized that Percy Jackson really was just a normal mortal man that didn't threaten her in the slightest. He would never have to see her again. He felt both a heightened sense of relief...and something else, a feeling he didn't want. He couldn't place it, but his chest did clench around the nameless emotion. He shoved it inside a box labeled "no," and he took a deep breath. If he did not want it, it would not exist. Percy was in control.

"You're right," he told Piper, unconsciously nodding. He brushed a hand through his hair, hoping he looked sheepish and not frantic. "It all seems so silly now that I think about it. I didn't think drunk-me would have such a flair for the dramatics."

Piper smiled at him brightly. "I'm glad you're feeling better now. And I don't think it was dramatic at all," she reassured him in that smooth tone. "The lady seems cuckoo, and you know, cuckoos can sometimes take a lot out of you."

"Right..." Percy mumbled.

"If she gives you any trouble, refer her to me." Piper's smile widened. "I will beat her up for you."

"You'll get fired," Percy pointed out. "And possibly jailed."

She shrugged and plopped down next to him with smirking eyes. "It'd be worth it." Piper seemed to deliberate for a few seconds before she said, "And if I want to stay out of trouble, we can just get a restraining order. Either works, as long as you're okay."

"My knight in shining armor," Percy said softly. There was a soulfulness, a sort of warmth for his best friend, gleaming in his pupils.

"My damsel," joked Piper, nudging him. "Seriously though. If anything happens, I will always be there."

Percy nodded, his sea-green eyes filling with light. "I know, Pipes."

Sometimes Percy felt in a world of capriciousness, of the mood-swings and the crazy hysteria of goddesses, Piper was a constant. A thing that did not change, did not alter. But stayed. That was worth more than Percy could ever try to put a price on, something he'd sought for all his life.

But somehow, something prickled within him—tension and anxiety, spreading like gooseflesh.

He wondered if he would see her, see Artemis, again. And what he would do if he did. A thought, both upsetting and irrational, tickled his mind.

How does one get a restraining order on a goddess?

The days lackadaisically strolled by. Each one seemed to melt into the next, each less interesting and more dull than the last.

Percy didn't have to worry about annoying customers, or moon goddesses, or potential restraining orders. He had not even seen a trace of Artemis at Moonlit Liquor. Not a flicker of her silver-grey eyes, nor a glimpse of her auburn hair falling like waves down her back. It was like she'd been a dream—and on long nights, clicking bottles open and methodically drizzling liquor into fancy cups, Percy wondered if somehow she was.

His nights were all moonless, devoid of that bright sphere in the sky, and he felt something clench his chest. On the infrequent days the moon was out, it was covered in billowing grey stratus clouds, with only flickers of light seeping out of the moon.

Slow, slow, slow.

Somehow, what had been a whirlwind of a night, where he'd felt so shitty and so on-top-of-the-world all at once, had been replaced by the dull days of his past, pre-Artemis. Life was slower than the flow of molasses.

He made his little drinks, served them, and went home. Rinse, repeat. Ad infinitum.

The days fell by the wayside.

Two weeks.

Somehow, those two weeks stretched on and on, tight and taut. An eternity could've passed by in those two weeks. He wondered if this was his life now—slow and sluggish and structured in a way that made him want to scream. It was a cycle, a routine, something he could never break away from. Before Artemis, at least he'd had the moon as company and solace; now he barely had that, as the moon waned and hid itself ashamedly behind clouds.

He looked over to Piper. She was chatting with one of the patrons, smiling in that devastatingly dazzling way of hers. He thought about what she'd told him in her apartment two weeks ago about her problems with her dad. If she could slide on a happy face, Percy could too. He took a deep breath and forced the edges of his mouth to quirk up.

This was work. This was the time for smiling and getting tipped. He would throw away everything in his personal life to achieve this. He felt a bit like a caricature, a bit like he didn't exist, but it didn't matter. At this point, he barely felt human.

But it didn't matter.

In those two weeks, he had acclimated. He tried to forget about what he had seen. Every time he thought of Artemis, it put a damper on his mood. Every time he passed by the Empire State Building, something in his heart strained. He would rein himself back to carefully controlled, safe normalcy, and that always involved clicking corks off fancy bottles. A distraction for the hands, after all, was a distraction for the mind. So he continued to serve drinks like it was his one purpose in his life. He was a man on a divine mission, if "divine mission" meant serving drinks really well.

He breathed deeply. The wafting aroma of wild roses and cinnamon from Moonlit Liquor greeted him sweetly.

Little drink—margarita with sunshine-yellow lemon slices. A tiny toothpick-umbrella propped in the drink.

"Here you are, miss," he said and brought the glass to her hand flourishingly. She grabbed it.

Larger drink—straight-up whiskey, a pale taupe color. It smelled like burning wood.

A nod of acknowledgement, and the drink was taken.

Another drink—their famous moon cocktail, silvery and sparkling, spirits mixed in such a way to form a shimmer.

He looked up, about to ask what kind of garnish the customer wanted.

Unseeingly silver eyes, auburn hair in a long braid, that cold disposition that he'd grown accustomed to in someone like her.

His heart stuttered in his chest.

Artemis.

He should've known it from the voice that'd placed the order...obviously. But it had been a long night. His brain hadn't processed it.

And if he did, why would he believe it? It had only been two weeks, of course, but two weeks had felt like such an awfully long time. Slow, slow, slow—that was what his life had turned into. A nihilist's wet dream. Those two weeks had felt like an eternity, so why was she back?

Why would she be here two weeks after everything was said and done?

The shock he felt was not underserved.

It was like Artemis had come bursting back in, shattering what normalcy Percy had. Like a burst of obnoxious technicolor in a black-and-white film.

They stood there for several beats in the silence. He could feel himself take a long breath after not taking one for many seconds. Her silver eyes examined him carefully, and he felt tension, thick and all-consuming, envelop the bar.

Get a hang of yourself, a voice piped up in his brain. Percy was not going to stand there—gob-smacked, wide-eyed, slack-jawed—over her. She didn't deserve that from him. He straightened his back, puffed his chest, and looked at her without blinking. The palpable silence was drawn extremely taut for several moments, the staring continuing for many moments, before Artemis had the gall to look sheepishly away, staring down at the drink Percy had prepared.

Percy decided to be the first to break the jarring silence.

"Two weeks...you're back after two weeks," Percy said quietly, when he regained the ability to use his tongue. "Self-control took a rain-check?"

"A moon cocktail," Artemis said slowly, ignoring his words. She didn't lift her gaze. "Dash of pomegranate juice. And one of those tiny umbrellas."

He wanted to scoff. He wanted to laugh, high and loud and manic.

But instead, he simply stared at her a second more, before finishing the last touches on her drink.

The final drink looked gorgeously enticing. The pomegranate juice looked dark like spilt blood over the pale, gleaming base of the cocktail, and the umbrella was a nice touch, adding a hint of endearment.

He didn't know why he finished it. Maybe he wanted her to leave as quickly as possible. Maybe he just needed something to occupy his hands with.

He finished the drink and set it on the counter. He didn't know what he'd expected.

She took it, and she sat down by the counter. The whole exchange felt both awkward and rehearsed. Finally, after a few moments of silence, where Artemis didn't make a move to drink, she finally lifted her gaze from the glass. Her eyes found home in Percy's face, resting sharply and searingly. Her stare was like a million volts, lighting every cell and pore on his skin under electrifying, excruciating conditions.

"I've never been much of a fan of self-control," Artemis told him idly. "I usually get the things I want. I don't hold back."

He stared.

Artemis smiled. Her silver eyes were glazed in the dim setting. "You seem...uncomfortable, Percy Jackson."

"Why are you here?"

"Why would anyone go to a bar? To get a drink, of course."

Percy practically guffawed. Percy felt himself squinting at her in the darkness. Why was she being so cryptic? Every word she said was laced with a lie, and Percy shifted around, trying to ignore the thrumming in his chest.

"Get the drink, and get out," he whispered.

"Insolent."

"I don't have a fancy word, so I'll just go with 'high-and-mighty asshole.'"

For some reason or another, the moon goddess seemed to crack a half-smile at that. Her eyes were lidded, with a strange emotion concealed and curtained from Percy's understanding. The fiery emotion that'd motivated Percy into responding stood its ground unflinchingly, trying to appear obstinate under her threatening, uncalled-for amusement. The almost pitch-black room, which seemed to cast the rest of the world in shadows, made Percy feel like he was alone. Like he was being trapped.

It was not a pleasant feeling.

"I won't leave until I'm finished," she finally said. "Until then, let's talk."

Somehow, of all things, it was that declaration that made Percy blink in surprise. All previous feelings cleared, as he felt his eyes go wide. Cocking his head in blatant curiosity, he replied, "I don't understand."

"You don't have to," Artemis calmly asserted. "You look at me like I'm going to kill you. I assure you, I am not here to cause any harm. I just came here for a drink and a chat."

"A drink and a chat," Percy echoed.

"We've had one before," Artemis said nonchalantly. "At the restaurant."

Percy wanted to laugh at that. She spoke of everything so calmly and coolly that it was a little...insane. He didn't know what to make of it, or if he should make anything of it. After all, who's to say he wasn't dreaming at this present moment? It wouldn't be the first or last time he dreamed about Artemis, but right now, it definitely felt like the most realistic and concrete. Rose and cinnamon drifted idly in from the fresheners. Piper's laugh tinkled quietly from across the room. In the four corners of the bar, cheap, shaded neon lights flashed feebly. Everything seemed surreal and far-away except for this moment.

"What do you want to talk about?" he finally managed to put out there.

At this, satisfaction seemed to emanate from Artemis. Her demeanor and general personality had been very "airs and graces" in all of Percy's talks with her, to a disgustingly infuriating level, but now she didn't seem arrogant or cocky. She just seemed relaxed, her demeanor befitting a cat leisurely seated on someone's lap, purring softly. Percy instinctually calmed down at this.

"Can I buy your time from..." She waved her hand around. "From all this."

"We don't have any customers at the moment," Percy said, a tick in his jaw. "You want to talk. Let's talk."

She shrugged. "All right. If you insist."

Artemis leaned comfortably back in the tall chair. She was wearing a simple white top, nondescript, and plain jeans. Her hair was tied into a tight French braid, though strands of fiery-auburn hair splattered across the side ridges of her forehead. Percy had never seen Artemis so casual before, though, to be fair, he'd only seen her for a grand total of two times. Still, her divinity and moonbeam-polished skin were noticeably more subdued in appearance, hidden away.

She looked more mortal-like now. He wondered if it was on purpose or not.

"I am here to make a deal with you," Artemis said. "I won't bore you with all the details all at once, but I just want to clarify that this meeting is not without purpose."

A deal? What was Percy supposed to make of that?

Artemis took a sip of the moon cocktail before setting it down. Her lips were coated in a shimmering layer.

"What's that supposed to mean? What deal?"

He reckoned this conversation could go a great number of ways. She could say the "deal" was to turn him into an animal. And then she would shoot him with a moon laser-beam, and he would turn into one. Or the "deal" was his gruesome death. And he would promptly turn into a disfigured corpse. Percy thought through the two options slowly in his head; they seemed to beg his attention whenever he thought about Artemis. But something stuck out to him: on why she would delay his death. For two long weeks.

He distantly recognized that two weeks for an immortal deity must feel infinitely shorter than it was to him, but even then, another thought prodded his head insistently. A deal...perhaps relating to...

...I think she has a crush on you.

He shoved it away. Nonsense. Artemis didn't mean it like that.

"Is there a place we can talk privately?"

Was that a double entendre...? He more insistently shoved Piper's stupid idea away. It didn't make sense. After all, Artemis was a virgin goddess.

And even if she wasn't, Percy was still insignificant, mortal scum to her.

"My coworker just left for the night, so the kitchen in the back should be empty," Percy said, his tone cautious. "But make this quick. I need to get back to my job."

Artemis made a move to leave, but Percy touched her arm and gestured to her glass. "Take it with you."

She obliged.

Percy and Artemis, under the guise of darkness, walked toward the kitchen. Somehow, he could feel his heart pounding erratically in his chest. It wasn't necessarily fear, but something else, similar to excitement. The kind of nervous, joyous energy that was pent-up, begging to be let loose. He unconsciously fixed his posture and his tie, not bothering to glance back at Artemis. He could feel her silver gaze against the back of his head, and a tiny part of his conscience was tingling, thrilled.

Two weeks of nothingness... Perhaps this would be his breakthrough.

Percy turned to Artemis after turning on the light, and he saw Artemis fully then. She was still dressed in that strange, casual attire, but even then, there was a part about her that was divine—radiant and resplendent with Olympian power, beauty, and strength. Artemis looked out-of-place against the mundane backdrop of the bar's simplistic but tidy kitchen.

Artemis folded her arms together, and she took a long, deep breath. In the clear light, it was easy to discern every feature on Artemis's face. Perfect proportions, dark silver eyes, and careening waves of that celestial presence. A tight-lipped expression.

"Percy Jackson, I have a proposition for you," Artemis said finally. "I want you to teach me the complexities of mortality. In return, I will grant you one wish within my power."

A/N: I'm back, guys. 2023 was a tough but rewarding year; I was super busy figuring things out, and I couldn't manage to whip this chapter up. Something about it felt much harder. I guess it's because I'm still trying to find my style of writing, and I didn't know how exactly to go about doing that. Still, I'm glad to back, and I'm ready to develop Percy and Artemis's relationship some more. Thanks for reading ))