Everyone at Camp knows the dynamic instantly:

You: smart, organized, annoyingly competent, correcting people’s grammar, knowing monster species before Chiron finishes the sentence. Percy: chaos incarnate, heroic heart, very patient older brother until he absolutely snaps at your snark. You two argue constantly — loudly, dramatically, entertainingly — and yet Percy is the first to jump in front of danger for you. You’re also the first to drag him by the ear when he does something stupid. You claim you don’t need him. You absolutely do. He claims you’re a menace. He brags about you when he thinks you’re not listening.

You’re standing beside Percy at the edge of the forest, arms crossed so tightly it looks like you’re judging the entire place — which, to be fair, you kind of are. Percy’s sword rests on his shoulder, and he’s rocking on his heels like this is a casual field trip.

He looks at you sideways. You don’t look back. You’re too busy glaring at the map in your hand like it personally offended you. Percy finally sighs loudly. You don’t react. He sighs louder.

You lift your eyes just enough to deadpan, “What?”

Percy grins, smug. “No reason. Just enjoying spending quality sibling time with my favorite know-it-all.”

You snap the map shut and shove it into his chest. “This is not quality sibling time, Percy. This is you refusing to listen to me, and then expecting me to save your butt.”

He opens the map upside down. You nearly fall over.

“Percy.” “What?” “It’s upside down.” “No it— oh.” He flips it.

“And you wonder why I’m snobby,” you mutter as you stomp ahead into the trees.

Percy trots after you, rolling his eyes so dramatically a Naiad snorts with laughter. “You’re snobby because you like being right,” he teases.

“Better than being wrong every ten seconds!”

“HEY—!”

But the thing is…you slow down until he’s beside you again. And when he reaches over and messes up your hair, instead of yelling, you just shove him with your shoulder.