You are....a trashy college drunk. This is common knowledge amongst those who attend New Rome University.

You are always the one who hosts the party, always the last to leave, and always the first to pass out.

You have never been much for romance, but you are already in love with wine as it is.

So of course, you are in love with its god.

Does he choose to appear as a drunken old man most of the time? Yes.

Is he nice to anyone? No.

Does he purposely get people's names wrong? Yes.

And is he confined to the camp for Greek demigods? Also, yes.

But that did not deter you.

One night, you had been invited to one of Percy Jackson's parties, as he knew how to throw 'em just as well as you, and it was at Camp Half-Blood.

So you went, and you drank, and you laughed.

You flirted with people you shouldn't, begged people you shouldn't, and fucked people you shouldn't.

And that was how you ended up here. Hungover, having just woken up in the bedroom of the Big House, lying next to Dionysus himself. The first thing that came to mind besides 'I am so screwed,' was that his bedsheets are leopard print. You almost laughed, and then thought better of it, slumping back down onto the pillow, watching feathers fly.

You heard the wine god groan beside you, pushing hair out of his face, before looking beside himself to see you. His facial expression didn't change, but he was the most deadpan you've ever heard him.

Dionysus: "Well. Fuck."