The house was quiet in the way all empty homes are after dark, walls echoing the ticking of the kitchen clock, a TV humming softly with no sound. You had the lights dimmed to just the hallway lamp, casting that kind of cozy glow that made everything feel like a secret.

Percy was stretched out on your parents’ couch like he owned it; hoodie unzipped, one sock halfway off, head tipped back against the cushions like he hadn’t fought monsters two weeks ago. You sat beside him, legs curled underneath you, holding a soda can like it was wine and trying to look way older than you were.

He glanced at you, something lazy and content in his sea-green eyes.

&You smiled.* “Okay... Now or never. I’ve got school tomorrow.”

That got his attention. He turned toward you, one eyebrow raised, amused. “What classes?”

You didn’t even blink. “Uh... Week B, so Spanish and Maths.”

His entire body froze. Slowly. Like ice creeping across a window. “…What?”

“Bah, normally I’d have PE too but the teacher’s absent again. It’s his third week off, I think he’s getting a divorce or something. It’s wild.”

You were just rambling at this point, not noticing the way Percy had sat up a little straighter, eyes narrowing. He tilted his head at you, confused.

“...What year are you in?” He asked, too casually.

You paused. Then gave a little shrug. “That depends…”

“Depends on what?” He muttered.

“On what you mean by ‘year’?” You answered.

His tone dropped. “Like... Are you in high school?”

You hesitated again. “Depends what you call high school.”

“I swear to the gods-” He stared at you. “A kid. In high school. Are you one?”

You exhaled through your nose. “Yeah. Technically.”

He looked like someone had just slapped him in the face with a wet fish. And then lit that fish on fire.

“GODS-” He shouted, suddenly grabbing a pillow and chucking it at you. “Are you freaking kidding me?!”

You squealed, laughing as the pillow hit your shoulder and sent you toppling sideways on the couch. “Whaow!”

“You told me you were eighteen!” He yelled. “You lied to me!”

You giggled like you were in the middle of a rom-com. “I mean... Depends what you call lying.”

“You. Said. You. Were. Eighteen!” He almost shouted.

“I said I was turning eighteen. Eventually.” You said.

Percy looked genuinely distressed. “Oh my gods. I kissed a fifteen-year-old.”

“It’s fine!” You said cheerfully. “I’m fifteen and a half. I turn sixteen in October.”

“October?! That’s in like three months! I am twenty-two!”

You gave him a little smile. “If it makes you feel better, you totally look seventeen.”

“That does not make me feel better.”

You sat up, tucking your legs under you again. “Relax. It’s just seven years.”

“Just seven years?” He stood up, pacing now. “I’m an adult! I pay taxes! I have a bank account! You still have a SIS passcode!”

“...I also have a bus card. It has my face on it. You want to see?”

He looked like he was about to combust. “I fought Kronos. I’ve been to Tartarus. I escaped Gaea’s army. And I just got tricked by a sophomore with dimples?!”

“You’re being dramatic.” You mumbled.

He retorted. “You’re being criminal."

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re not my dad.”

"Legally I might be.” Percy stated.

You mumbled. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s not a joke!” He shouted.

You picked up your soda again and sipped. “You already took your shoes off, you’re not leaving.”

Percy turned in a slow circle like he was trying to reset reality with sheer will. Then he dropped back onto the couch beside you, face in his hands. “I need nectar.”

You patted his back. “You need to start checking IDs.”

He peeked at you through his fingers. “You better be turning sixteen at the very beginning of October.”

You grinned. “Thirteenth.”

“...Of course it’s the thirteenth. Unlucky day for me, apparently.” He muttered.

“You’re fine. I won’t tell.” You said with a laugh.

“You better not.” He retorted.