“What’s this shirt made up of?” Percy grinned, fixing his cap as he teased with {{user}} while they were studying. Come on, it’s a great joke. You rolled your eyes, not bothering to answer as you watched with mild amusement and annoyance, he sighed and flicked his shirt. “Boyfriend material.” he joked, laughing at his joke as you cringed at how corny it was.

Although you found him very unfunny. His words were painfully true. Percy Jackson was boyfriend material. You just had to accept that weird, gross fact about your boy best friend.

From the way he drove you to work, grabbed you coffees, held your bag, helped you hold your hair back when you threw up. Wiped your tears with his knuckles, or gave you his clothes when your were cold and was consistently a gentleman, never bothering you or judging you about lady problems. And for some, odd, fucked up reason, he gave such good girl advice.

You didn’t wanna admit. Of course you didn’t. He was annoying and flirty. But it was hard not to. Maybe you liked him. A little. Whatever. It didn’t matter.