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Seeing Percy Jackson in the flesh feels like a curse.
He’s a child, but Apollo would recognize those eyes anywhere for how they haunt his dreams. They’re the same eyes that have graced Hyacinthus and Daphne and Commodus and every other name that’s been burned into his non-existent soul.
And of course it has to be this child who stares up at him, bearing the weight of great prophecies the way great leaders wear their crown. It’s the one child Apollo can’t let himself touch for fear of crossing the Fates.
—
"I like my drinks sweet,” Apollo says, winking at the barista. “But they’re not the only things.”
She giggles as she punches the order in, a light blush on her cheeks. She’s cute, the type of girl that might catch his eye if he was looking.
“That’ll be out for you at the end,” the girl says. “Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Oh, I will.” Apollo shoots her one last grin and turns on his heel.
It’s a smaller coffee shop, one of those that doubles as a bookstore and he can usually count on being able to kill a couple hours people watching. Today, the cafe is full of students and other people doubtlessly working on the next great American novel.
Apollo walks over to the end of the counter and grabs a book off of a shelf to peruse. It’s poetry, and a quick look tells him it’s good poetry too. Perfect.
“White mocha with extra caramel for Fred,” the barista calls out.
He grabs his mug, making sure to make eye contact as he shoves a hundred into the tip jar with a grin, and then turns to go find a table.
Apollo takes his time reading, alternating poems with sips of coffee. He mouths the words as he reads, feeling the rhythm as the poet intended. It’s a simple thing, but toetry tastes better on the tongue.
Someone approaches him, hesitating, but wanting his attention. He lets them wait. This isn’t unusual, whether it’s a mortal charmed by his appearance or seeking inspiration and being guided by something beyond their understanding.
The person takes the seat across from him without even a hello. Apollo peers over his book to find Percy Jackson of all people wearing a soft smile.
Apollo sets the book down on the table. “You,” he breathes out. “Are the last person I think I expected to see.”
“I’m surprised it’s been this long,” Percy says. “I spent the first year expecting Hermes to come knocking anytime I stepped into the shower.”
He’s older now, looking more like his father than ever, except instead of a beard there’s just the hint of stubble. Age suits him well, a calmness he never was able to have as a teenager in how he holds himself, accented by grey streaking through his hair.
Despite the fact that no one has seen hide nor hair of Percy Jackson in over a decade, to the point he’d assumed Percy ran off to Alaska, all he can think of is that Percy’s still hot enough Apollo wants to dig his claws in and never let go and that there’s a distinct lack of a prophecy hanging over them all. This is a familiar kind of desire.
It hits Apollo like a truck, and maybe it’s the Fates doing him a kindness, a neon sign over Percy Jackson’s head saying this is your chance.
“Aw,” he says, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hand. “Have you missed me?”
Percy laughs, and his entire face brightens. Apollo wants to sigh like a love-sick fool. It’s been less than two minutes and he’s already resigned to falling. But with Percy, maybe it was inevitable.
“Maybe,” Percy says like he can’t quite believe it. “I think my life’s gotten a bit boring without you guys getting your fingers twisted in it.”
“Should I be offended?” Apollo asks.
“No,” Percy answers, shaking his head. “I don’t think so.”
“So what has the great Percy Jackson been up to?”
Apollo takes a sip of his coffee, and licks the bit of foam off his lip that stuck. Percy’s eyes follow the motion, not in the least bit shy. Oh. Well, that’s new, and not unwelcome. He sets down his mug and leans in closer.
Percy shrugs. “I’ve been living. I have an apartment, I spend time with my mom and my sister, I go to work, I volunteer. It’s simple.”
“What do you do, then?” Apollo asks.
A flush rises to Percy’s cheeks. “Don’t laugh,” he says. “I know medicine’s your thing and all, but I’m actually an ER nurse.”
Oh, Apollo wants to coo. He doesn’t go that far, but he does let himself sigh fondly. Percy’s cheeks get even pinker, which is just lovely. “And here I thought you couldn’t get any better.”
“Shouldn't you be saving that routine for unsuspecting mortals?” he asks. “I doubt cabin seven’s gotten any less full over the years.”
Apollo shrugs, because Percy’s right. His children are numerous and incredible.
“Say,” Apollo says, grabbing a napkin and a pen that wasn’t there a second ago. He writes down a phone number and looks up at Percy through his lashes. “You may hardly be an unsuspecting mortal, but what would you say to a drink?”
Percy blinks, but then the surprise fades away and he looks at Apollo consideringly. He takes the napkin from Apollo and stares down at it for a moment.
He looks back up at Apollo with a tentative smile. “I think I’d like that.”
—
Percy looks incredible, to say the least. In contrast to the hoodie he’d worn in the coffee shop, he’s in dark jeans, a fitted turtleneck, and a sports coat, looking every inch the DILF Apollo intends on making him.
He could be subtle, but they both know who he is and what he wants. Apollo plasters himself to Percy’s front, sneaking his arm under the sports coat to wrap it around Percy’s waist.
“Why,” he purrs. “I didn’t know you could clean up so well.”
Percy grins up at him. “I’ve learned a few things over the years.”
Apollo pulls at his sweater—it’s soft, cashmere probably. “I regret making plans,” he says. “I think I’d much rather have you naked and in my bed.”
They’re standing in the middle of the lobby, and he’s sure the other couples around them are judging, but Apollo doesn’t care and Percy doesn’t seem to either.
“I’ve heard something about anticipation making it better,” Percy says. He steps away to put a slightly more appropriate amount of distance between them. “Now, you mentioned champagne?”
Apollo feels every bit the pretty young thing on Percy’s arm as they walk among the other guests, despite Percy very much being on his. It’s an opening of an exhibit and Apollo’s pretty sure the artist is a very distant Roman legacy of his.
The art’s nice, but neither him or Percy are paying much attention to it. They pass the time whispering comments and telling stories, Percy listens to his explanations about the art pieces like he cares and this might be the most fun Apollo’s had on a date in a very long time.
Because that’s what this is, a date. And one that has Apollo feeling giddy and like it matters.
The hours go by and the couples start to leave and Apollo slowly slides his hand down Percy’s back until he’s able to play with his belt. It’s a silent question.
Percy hears it though, because he presses closer and looks up at Apollo with dark eyes. “Would you like to come back to my place?”
Apollo does the impolite thing and abuses his godhood. “Close your eyes.”
And then they’re standing in the living room of Percy’s studio, that he probably shouldn’t know the location of. But Percy doesn’t seem to mind. After a split second of adjusting, Apollo is being backed up toward the sofa.
Percy pushes him down and Apollo is blessed with the weight of a warm body in his lap.
“Can I kiss you?” Percy asks, hands resting on Apollo’s shoulders.
“Baby,” Apollo says, sliding his hands up Percy’s thighs. “The answer to that question will always be yes.”
And then Percy is kissing him. Hands tangle in his hair and Apollo gives as good as he gets until Percy is moaning into his mouth and all he can taste is chocolate, champagne, and sea salt.
—
Months later, when they’re lying in bed on a Sunday morning in Percy’s apartment, Percy answers a question Apollo didn’t realize he still had.
“It feels like I was waiting for you,” Percy says out of the blue from his place on Apollo’s chest.
He woke Apollo up in the most delightful of ways and then went right back to sleep on top of him like it was nothing. But now they’re both awake again and the sunlight pours through the windows to catch on the golden glints in Percy’s eyes.
“I had relationships you know, after Annabeth and before you, but none of them made me feel like this.”
Apollo’s hand freezes on Percy’s back. “What do you mean?”
“I used to think it was because I couldn’t tell them about so much of my life,” Percy says. “Because even though I was as removed as I could be, how was I supposed to explain nightmares about Tartarus and why spending too much time too far inland makes me feel like I’m dying.”
“And I know I shouldn’t want my forever with you,” he continues. “But I think I do. It’s absolutely insane—”
“Percy—”
“No,” Percy says, glaring up at him. “Let me say this. You, Phoebus Apollo, are an Olympic God. I am a middle-aged demigod with enough trauma to feed a psych department at a top university. I don’t get to claim you, that’s not how this works.”
What Percy doesn’t know is that he already has.
Apollo begins to move his hand along Percy’s back again. “I don’t know if you’ll ever believe me,” he says. “And I’m prepared to spend a lifetime proving it to you.”
The baby seal look shouldn’t still be so effective, but it is and Apollo’s weak.
“You’ll have me as long as you want me, baby.”
Percy’s eyes get shiny, but the only sound he makes is a quiet little, “ oh .”
—
They’re lying in bed, the day after their first anniversary, one of Apollo’s arms slung over Percy’s waist.
“Apollo,” Percy says suddenly, first word of the morning.
He tightens his arm and presses a kiss to the back of Percy’s neck. “Yeah, baby?”
Percy’s hand covers his own, and Percy kinda hunches in himself, like he’s nervous. “Can we…can we have a kid?”
“Are you asking if we’re able to, or if I want to?” Apollo asks, his false human heart fluttering in his chest. Leto above, he hopes Percy is asking for what Apollo thinks he is.
“The second one,” Percy says, squeezing Apollo’s hand tight. “I’ve just…well, I’ve always wanted to be a dad, even when we were fighting Gaea it’s what I was dreaming of. But, well, obviously it never happened, and I know you can—”
“Shh,” Apollo cuts Percy off. Then slowly, carefully, he pulls away from Percy so he can push Percy onto his back and look down at him. “You want my baby?”
Percy’s cheeks are such a lovely shade of pink. He bites his lip and nods. “Yeah,” he sighs. “I really do.”
Apollo, unable to resist, presses a chaste kiss to Percy’s lips. “Demigods are tricky,” he says. “You know better than most. I know you’ve tried to live a mortal life, are you really okay with leaving that behind? You can still send me away, but a child is different. Are you okay with knowing what lies ahead?”
Percy nods. “I was never meant to stay away, I think,” he says. “And I suppose I’ll take comfort in knowing that I’ll be able to do my best to guide them.”
“They’ll be more than a normal demigod,” Apollo says. “Sure, they’ll still be my child, but they’ll also be yours . A legacy of Poseidon, and of you.”
“I know,” Percy says. He reaches an arm up around Apollo’s neck to drag him closer. “But they’ll have me, no matter what.”
And Apollo had been so sure that it wasn’t possible to fall more in love with Percy Jackson.
He settles himself between Percy’s thighs. “One question then,” he says, smiling against Percy’s lips. “Greek or Roman?”
—
“Are you sure?” Apollo asks, looking at Percy and his hold on Charlie. “I know you said you wanted to visit camp, but I won’t blame you if you don’t want to. You’re not just an older camper anymore.”
Percy takes in a deep breath and lets it out. “It’ll be fine. If not know it’ll be when Charlie’s old enough,” he says, looking up at Apollo with wide eyes. “Besides, I always told Chiron I’d come back. This probably isn’t what he pictured, but since when have I been good at acting according to expectations?”
Apollo laughs. “Ready to meet the step-children?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
He’s been better about visiting camp and spending time with his children the past twenty years or so since Lester. If anything, his more regular visits have really hammered in how quickly time flies. There’s not a single one of his children here who knew him as Lester or before.
“It looks the same,” Percy breathes out as they step out of the chariot. “Even now.”
Apollo wraps an arm around Percy’s waist and drags him close enough to press a kiss to his temple. “It rarely changes.”
It’s almost no time before they’re spotted, which is good news for camp security and bad news for Percy’s nerves. Percy holds Charlie closer.
“Lord Apollo!” the kid calls out. He looks like one of Hermes’. “We weren’t expecting you today, should I call for Chiron?”
He looks over at Percy who nods. “Sure!” he says. “That’d be great!”
Percy’s unrecognized, and Apollo sees how the more people they pass by without a reaction the less tense his shoulders are. They walk further into camp, and Apollo spots the first of his kids.
“Come on,” he says. “There’s Caroline, and where she is, Lyall is soon to follow. You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
They’re getting odd looks now. People know better than to question an Olympian, but the absolute DILF at his side with a beautiful blond baby in hand is enough to raise a few eyebrows.
“Dad!” Caroline calls out, rushing forward with a bow slung over her shoulder. “We weren’t sure if you were coming!”
Apollo steps away from Percy and spreads his arms wide enough for the group. “Just running a little late.”
He looks over at the sound of Percy’s voice to find him talking to Penelope, his youngest daughter at camp. Percy’s crouched on the ground so Penelope can get a good look at Charlie.
Apollo guesses he sighs audibly at the precious sight, because Lyall pulls away and asks, “so, uh, Dad? You don’t usually bring around our mortal parents.”
Percy laughs and looks over and says, “that’d be because I’m not mortal.”
“Oh, sorry my Lord,” Lyall rushes out, looking panicked. “I didn’t recognize you.”
“Oh no,” Percy says, laughing harder. “I’m no God, either.”
But you could be , a quiet voice whispers in the back of Apollo’s mind.
He decides to cut in. “He’s a demigod, just an older one.”
The children's eyes all go wide—they’ve gathered a bit of a crowd now—despite Percy’s best efforts, the idea of a demigod aging peacefully is still new for the Greeks, harder for them to trust as campers age out and go to New Rome, never to be seen again.
“Well I’ll be,” a new voice calls out. “Percy Jackson, is that you?”
Whispers break out as Chiron approaches. Even now, Percy’s name is known, and Apollo can’t help the swirl of pride that rises up.
Percy stands up and says, “Hey, Chiron. Long time no see.”
“You’re a sight for sore eyes, my boy.” Chiron is smiling, and he’s looking at Percy like he can’t quite believe he’s real. “What brings you here?”
Apollo takes that as his cue. He steps forward and wraps his hand around Percy’s shoulders. “We reconnected, old friend,” he says, smirking. “May I be so honored as to introduce my newest bundle of joy, Charles Aristo.”
He’s sure he’ll pay for this later, going by the glare Percy shoots him, but it’s worth it.
His kids look back and forth between him and Percy for a moment before rushing forward.
“Oh my gods, he’s so small!”
“How long until he’s at camp?”
“Can I hold him? Please, I promise I’ll be careful!”
Percy laughs, taking the excitement in with a smile. “Maybe later,” he says. “At dinner when you’re sitting down.”
After dinner, when they’re sitting round the campfire and Charlie is in Apollo’s arms and Percy is tucked against his side, his other children sitting around them, he turns to Percy and asks, “Are you happy?”
Percy looks up at him with wide eyes. “That we came to camp? Or in general?”
On the other side of the fire, Lyall starts a new song.
“In general,” Apollo says, keeping his voice low. “With me?”
“Yes,” Percy answers. “I’m very happy with you.” Percy looks down at Charlie. “I didn’t know how unhappy I was, before.”
—
What does a gesture really mean when it’s been lost to time?
Apollo’s hands shake as he weaves hyacinths and laurel together into a crown. There are olive branches and roses and honeysuckle around him on the floor of the now rarely frequented sun palace, but every time he goes to add to it, he finds himself unable.
This is Percy’s, and even if Percy doesn’t remember, it’s an apology as much as it’s an offering. Apollo’s crying as he adds the final touches, but these are good tears. They fall onto green leaves and Apollo hopes they seal his intentions in. This is his offering, and it’s up to Percy and the fates if it’s accepted.
He focuses on Percy’s apartment and is greeted with the sight of Percy balancing Charlie and Zoe on his lap, answering Charlie’s questions about the movie they’re watching.
“No,” Percy laughs, running his hands through Charlie’s hair. “Your Uncle Hades isn’t blue, nothing in this movie is accurate. I have no idea why you wanted to watch it.”
“Mrs. Gordon said it was her favorite when she was a kid,” Charlie says, sticking her tongue out.
“And this has nothing to do with you thinking Mrs. Gordon is pretty?” Percy teases.
Charlie goes bright red. “Nu-uh!” he says. “That’s dumb. Girl’s are gross.”
“Yes, baby,” Percy laughs, shifting Zoe. “Girls are so gross.”
“Not Zoe!” Charlie rushes out, reaching over to pat Zoe’s cheek. “She’s my favorite.”
Zoe, precious baby that she is, just blinks up at Charlie and reaches out to press her tiny hand against his face.
“You’re all my favorite,” Apollo cuts in, announcing his presence with the crown hidden behind his back.
“Daddy!” Charlie screams, jumping out of Percy’s lap and running towards him.
Apollo drops to his knees so he can catch Charlie with one arm. He runs his hand through Charlie’s blond curls. “You been taking care of Mom?”
“Yes!” Charlie says, still practically yelling. “He picked me up from school and we got ice cream and now we’re watching movies because it started raining and Mom said that if I was really good I’d get to pick what we’re having for dinner.”
Gods, Apollo cherishes these moments above anything else. “Sounds like a perfect day to me,” he says. “School good?”
“School was good!” Charli says, nodding. “We had music class today and got to play our recorders!”
It’s bittersweet, hearing this sometimes, knowing how much he’s missed in the lives of the rest of his children.
Apollo smiles though and stands up. “So we’re watching Hercules?”
“Oh yes,” Percy confirms, smiling up at him. “He was insistent.”
“I’d expect nothing less,” Apollo says. He walks over to the sofa and bends down to press a kiss to Percy’s perfect lips.
“Gross!” Charlie says performatively, snuggling into Percy’s side.
“Percy Jackson,” Apollo says.
He had wanted this moment to have weight. Was planning on hiding the crown away until the right moment. But there won’t be a better moment like this. This beautiful, simple afternoon is the most incredible thing he’s ever had, and it’s all thanks to Percy.
“I love you,” Apollo says, infusing his words with enough of his power Percy knows they’re important, because he can’t leave all drama behind him. He bring the wreath from behind his back and settles it atop Percy’s dark curls. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my husband?”
Charlie squeals and Zoe starts giggling because she’s perfect, but Percy is staring up at him with wide eyes and an open mouth.
“Apollo…” he whispers.
“Say yes!!” Charlie says. “You have to say yes!”
There’s a small part of Apollo that’s genuinely concerned Percy might say no, that marriage might be a step too far, that this might be what shatters the illusion.
But Percy just smiles and tilts his head up for another kiss. “Yes, absolutely.”
—
Apollo hooks his chin over Percy’s shoulder and sighs.
Percy takes his toothbrush out of his mouth, a bit of toothpaste clinging to the corner of his lips. Percy bends over to spit into the sink. “What’s got you in a mood?”
“Nothing,” Apollo says, wrapping his arms around Percy. “Just thinking about how handsome you are.”
Percy rolls his eyes and then meets his gaze in the mirror. “Seriously, what’s up?”
“You,” Apollo says.
“Huh?”
“I’ve caught your eyes lingering, you know,” Apollo clarifies. “How you pull at your face and beard. What’s wrong?”
He knows the answer. It’s in the way Percy stares mournfully at his few remaining strands of dark hair, how he pulls at the corners of his eyes when he thinks Apollo isn’t looking. Unluckily for Percy, Apollo is always looking.
Percy’s aging. And that has implications Apollo isn’t ready to face.
“It’s…well…” Percy tries. He leans back against Apollo and tangles their fingers together. “I’m mortal. And you’re…”
“Not.” Apollo wraps his arms even tighter around Percy.
He’s never cared, him and Percy both know who’s older. Charlie, Zoe, and Jason all know who and what their parents are. But there are reasons Apollo doesn’t go to parent-teacher conferences, and it has little to do with the rules he’s been ignoring for the past ten years.
“I’m almost fifty,” Percy says. “And I look it.”
“You look like someone I want to bend over this vanity,” Apollo corrects. “So you will be hearing no complaints from me.”
But Percy looks serious and he looks sad and Apollo can feel his heart breaking.
Apollo takes in a deep breath, and as he looks at their reflection, he knows it’s the right thing to do.
With his eyes locked on Percy’s, Apollo lets himself age.
He’s worn older faces, but they’d always been costumes. This is the form he has claimed as his for millennia, hovering between the ages of 16 and 22 since his birth. And, for the first time, he’s greying at the temples and there are lines at the corner of his eyes and he looks the most like Zeus he ever has.
The understanding settles on Percy’s face. “Apollo…”
He presses a kiss to the top of Percy’s hair. “I love you.”
Percy’s lower lip wobbles and Apollo lets his own tears fall.
—
Apollo remembers lying in a field with his beloved Hyacinthus, mere days before Hyacinthus met his end. Hyacinthus was asleep, his head resting upon Apollo’s thigh. He looked so soft, and Apollo couldn’t help but let his eyes and hands wander.
“If somehow some of your soul remains,” he remembers asking, confident in remaining unheard. “Will you wait for me?”
—
They’re surrounded by family, just the way Percy would want it.
He’s dropped his aged disguise, can’t hold it up right now, not when he’s watching the single love of his immortal life fade before his eyes. Percy’s hand looks so small, weak, and withered in his.
Apollo’s crying, and a part of him fears there might be another river, but he can’t even waste enough energy on those concerns. He’s never hated his connection to the fates as an oracular god as much as he has right now in this moment because he can hear the sound of Percy’s thread being cut.
Percy takes his last breath and Apollo breaks.
“C’mon, Dad,” Jason says, wrapping his arm over Apollo’s shoulders. “Mom wouldn’t want you to stay here.”
Jason takes after Percy more than Charlie or Zoe ever have, but it’s his own eyes that stare back at him. He can’t take it. Apollo wraps his arms tight around his youngest son, finally letting go of Percy’s hand. He buries his head in Jason’s neck, and sobs.
Percy’s death feels final in a way that it never has before, sinking into Apollo’s bones with acceptance rather than rage and denial.
Not a single being approaches Apollo as he makes the lonely trek through Olympus. It doesn’t matter if they approved or not, they know better than to get in the way of his mourning.
The sun palace is bursting with light and life, and Apollo feels an old, dark curl of rage rise up. How dare it look like this? A reminder that he’s the brightness when he’s just lost his sense of meaning.
The golden doors fall shut behind him, and paying no mind the nymphs flitting through the palace, Apollo falls to his knees and screams. He closes his eyes and lets himself feel the burn of falling tears. He needs to feel this, properly, on his own before he can face anyone else. He won’t be able to take the looks of understanding, won’t be able to comfort his own children otherwise.
It’s shock that has Apollo blinking his eyes open slowly at the feeling of a soft hand on his cheek, complete disbelief that someone would dare to approach him right now like this. He’s rushing with power, ready to smite this audacious little—
“Percy?” he gasps, jaw dropping open at the picture a young Percy Jackson paints, glowing and draped in fine fabrics. “You’re dead, I watched you die.”
His smile is so soft and so understanding that Apollo can’t take it.
“You didn’t think you’d get rid of me that easily,” Percy asks, leaning close enough so their foreheads touch. “Did you?”