What is a Storm Without Lightning
Chapter I:
For a Monday, it was a pretty good day. Certainly by New York standards. The sun was shining, birds were singing, and children were playing. A gentle breeze meandered through the city, rustling the leaves and masking the stench of sewage with the glorious smell of nature.
It was all picture-perfect, and really, he felt like there was nothing that could spoil it. Not the copious amount of work he still had to get done, nor the nagging feeling that he had forgotten something important. Not even the oil stain planted firmly in the middle of his shirt, compliments of… well… he wasn't really sure.
After years of battling demons, physically, mentally and perhaps spiritually, he could finally say that he was at peace. More than that though, he was happy, perhaps happier than he had ever been before.
A horn blasted Percy out of his thoughts.
"Sorry!" He yelled, waving awkwardly to the car he had cut off crossing the street.
The driver made a rude hand gesture and blared the horn again before passing. He just rolled his eyes, glad that at least somebody was keeping him honest. With the way things had been going lately, it was about time he had an ego check.
He opened the door to the little bistro adjacent to the park, and was immediately greeted by the most welcoming of sights.
"Daddy!" A sweet, childish voice called out.
Percy Jackson looked down at the beaming smile on his daughter's face. Her brownish hair shone with the brightness of the midday sun as she reached out with her small arms, begging that he pick her up.
Smiling, Percy gave in, and a slight chuckle left his lips as he bent over and gently scooped her up. A slight 'eep' left her mouth at first, before she began to giggle as he settled her on his broad shoulder.
"Managed to already ruin that brand new shirt of yours, I see." An amused voice that could only belong to his wife, chimed in.
His face lit up like a Christmas tree, like it always did when those green eyes struck him. She looked beautiful in those denim jeans, with her hair falling over her shoulders like a red cascade.
"Natasha, I swear—" Percy paused, searching for the right words as she watched him with her unreadable, but still piercing look. It was like staring right down the barrel of a gun. "It's not my fault. It's like the gods have it out for me."
Natasha raised an eyebrow, "Oh really?"
"Yeah, it's like there's this grand conspiracy against my wardrobe," he grinned, as he navigated them outside the bistro to their usual table. Sitting down, he was enveloped in the comforting familiarity of their family rituals.
"Ice cream, Daddy?" Their daughter asked, eyes wide with anticipation as she pointed excitedly at the truck nearby.
"Sophie Jackson," Natasha chided as she tried in vain to plait the tufts in Sophie's hair. "I just gave you ice cream!"
"Is that so…" Percy swiveled Sophie around, studying her face and finding hints of waffle bits in the corners of her mouth.
Sophie grinned mischievously, trying to suppress a laugh. Percy chuckled, "Caught red-handed, huh?"
Natasha shook her head, "One ice cream is enough for now, young lady."
Sophie's smile turned into the most sorrowful of pouts as she eyed the ice cream truck again. "But…"
Laughing at the pleading note that had entered her voice, Percy gave Natasha a sideways glance. "Well… can we? One more won't hurt, will it?"
Pretending to think, a finger resting lightly on her chin, his wife looked at their daughter for a moment, before looking back at him, and then back up at their little girl. "I don't know…"
"Come on, Mama, pretty please?" His little ball of sunshine pleaded, pressing her tiny hands together.
"Yeah, pretty please Mama…" Percy laughed, mimicking their daughter's voice and the way her eyes crinkled up at the edges.
"Okay, just this one time." Natasha looked both amused and exasperated as she shook her head. "It's really not fair when you guys team up on me."
"Hooray!" Sophie's hands turned into fists as she emphatically punched the air. "Ice cream!"
Laughing all together, they got up to join the queue. Sophie was all but levitating in excitement, the velcro straps of her sneakers bursting as she bounced up and down. Natasha, who usually chided their daughter for such behavior, showed a smile free of care.
Percy glanced at the stretch of people in front of them. "You know, Natasha, I don't think I've faced anything scarier than this ice cream line."
Natasha prodded his side. "Well, I'm sure that pen of yours will keep you safe."
"Hey, pens are underrated weapons," Percy quipped, swatting her hand away. "But I guess ice cream can be just as dangerous in the wrong hands."
They were interrupted by Sophie's insistent tugging on Percy's shirt. "Daddy, can I get something blue?"
Percy ruffled her hair affectionately. "Sure thing, kiddo."
Natasha scooped her up, appraising her like any mother would, before cuddling her close. "Are you sure you don't want cookies and cream again?"
"No! I want blue!" Sophie exclaimed, pointing excitedly at the colorful array of sorbets. Her face then went soft, almost as if it were apologizing for the brashness of her tongue. "Please." She said in a much softer voice.
Percy couldn't help but laugh, turning to Natasha. "How about you, darling?"
"We're laying it on a bit thick aren't we?" She replied dryly back, her lips quirking upwards again as she tried to fight off a grin. "But since you're obviously treating us, I think I'll go for something decadent today. How about a scoop of salted caramel?"
"Shocker." Percy shook his head. "Will you ever try something else?"
"The day I die." His wife joked as she squeezed his arm. "So never."
"We'll have two scoops of the blue raspberry, and one salted caramel then." Percy said as he wrapped his arms around the two most important people in his life.
Long ago, he had left the life of a hero behind him, and many things had changed since.
It had been what? Thirteen, now nearly fourteen years since he had awoken in this new world? That unforgettable day when he'd washed up on the shore a broken-hearted, scarred teenager with no sense of direction. Which meant that it was six, going on seven years now since he had met the mother of his daughter, sitting on a park bench, a book open in her lap, looking just as lost as he had.
Peace.
There was no better word to describe what he now felt. His life was good at the moment. Perfectly normal. Just the way he wanted.
Author's Note:
Well, I'm back kind of. It's definitely nice to write again, missed it a lot. Not sure how often I'm going to update, but appreciate you all reading. Hopefully my writing hasn't regressed haha, leave me some feedback please.
If you're an OG to my profile, then you know this is partially inspired by a previously deleted work of mine, which was a spin-off of a story by my friend Greed720. I know canonically Natasha cannot have children naturally, just assume that our couple in question used other methods :) Never thought I'd write a sequel to Pride is the Devil. Maybe I'll keep writing this for fluff. Or not, who knows. Join the discord in my bio if you want to reach me. Take care.