The heat was painfully sweltering, and every step you took felt like a thousand knives being stabbed into your skin, but it wasn't like Converse were made for the depths of hell. You couldn't even imagine what would've happened to you if Percy hadn't caught your unconscious form and jumped into Tartarus himself, but you didn't really want to think about that right now. You didn't want to think about him right now.

He'd hated you since your first quest when you were thirteen, and the feeling had been mutual. You'd done your best to ignore that he wasn't a lanky teenager anymore (the opposite, in fact) and he had been the last person you expected to jump in with you to go through... literal hell. The worst part of it, in fact, and it didn't help that all you had felt on your way down was his arms wrapped around you in the most comforting embrace, and his lips next to your ear whispering how he was there for you. Percy Jackson was the last person you expected to want to be there for you.

After a landing in the Cocytus and dragging Percy out to the best of your ability (that river was creepy) you stumbled onto a sizzling rock, taking sharp breaths and trying to ignore the stabbing pain in your side. Percy looked down at you, eyes wide and concerned, and you thought that he looked like a baby seal when he did that. He put his forearm behind your head, and you resisted the urge to curl up into his side. "Tell me where it hurts, sweetheart."