Thirty, Flirty, and Thriving
In honor of his 30th Birthday, have a fic about Percy Jackson's 14th Anniversary. Check it out here on AO3.
Percy had been a morning person for a very long time. He thought it was probably something to do with being an East Coaster in his heart. And that connection between the beach and the sunrise. He and Frederick had had a conversation about that, once, about how much they both disliked watching the sun set over the ocean, knowing in their veins it should be the other way around. There was a reason neither of them lived in California anymore, after all.
He was alone in that, at least in his bedroom, however. Frederick Chase had thought that the sun should rise over the ocean, not set on it. But he didn't much want to see it, except for on very special occasions. And his daughter was the same.
Annabeth was a night owl. Because of course she was, what else would she be? A lark? He suppressed a laugh at the idea of calling her that, careful not to wake her as he rolled out of bed. She needed her beauty rest. It was a Friday, but she'd taken the day off, and he intended to let her sleep in, just like she preferred.
She deserved it. Working so hard, and all that.
He didn't ever work on Fridays. His classes were all on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and he preferred to do research at home on Mondays and Wednesdays. Sometimes, he got dragged to campus because of a departmental meeting, but he'd made it pretty clear to the chair that he saw his academic career connected to a university as a fun hobby, and if they tried to drag him a second longer away from his family that he was okay with, he'd leave it behind in a second for stay-at-home-dad-hood, or at least independent scholarship or a school that would give a classics prodigy everything he wanted. So they were pretty decent about not pushing for committees that did meet on Fridays, or when he wanted to be elsewhere. Who knew being a demigod made you such a hot commodity in the world of academia?
He had a plan though, because it was not just any Friday, it was a very special Friday. And he wanted to celebrate it like it deserved.
But he was a little surprised, when he got to the kitchen at 6:30 in the morning, to find what had been spotless when he'd gone to bed, now very much not that. There was a pile of flour on the counter nearest him, and something else on the kitchen island that might have been sugar. There was melted butter all over the cookie sheet. The sink was full of two of his stand mixer bowls, a shield--the baking kind, not the weapon kind, though that had happened once before--and the dough hook and whisk, plus two wooden spoons and two more normal mixing bowls.
“What are you doing up so early?” Junie demanded. She kept repositioning herself, trying to stand in front of the stand mixer, which is clearly going on, and shooting looks out of the corner of her eye at her little sister. The secret message being sent was apparently being understood, because Lucie was standing in front of the ovens, trying to raise her hands, presumably so Percy could not see what cooking was happening.
Behind Junie, on the counter, about a third of a bottle of blue food coloring was leaking onto the granite. He once again applauded his wife’s choice to go with the blue marble.
“I’m always up this early,” he pointed out, he glanced between them. “You aren’t, though.”
“I am,” Lucie chimed in.
“I know you are; I’m surprised you're not watching your cartoons.” Lucie, all of seven, was all Annabeth. Blonde curls and gray eyes and a warrior’s cunning. But in her sleeping habits, she was all him. That was one of his favorite things about having kids, picking out the pieces of him and Annabeth, and learning all about the awesome people they created together.
“This is more important than cartoons,” Lucie said.
“What are you doing?”
“Lucie,” Junie snapped, mouth tight.
Lucie snapped her mouth closed.
Percy looked between the two of them, going back and forth to see if either of them would crack.
They were holding up admirably well.
But though they were legacies of Athena, with all the wisdoms and battle acumen that might have afforded them, Percy had a work around.
Even wisdom had to bow to strength, sometimes. So, Percy walked up to Lucie, who looked up at him, staring at him gilessly. The eyes of a little girl who could steal from a gift shop and not even feel bad about it. He loved his kids so much.
He reached down, hooked his arms under her arms, and lifted.
The reaction was instant. She shrieked. Her kicks were not wild flailing, but rather well aimed and deliberate. Which was actually to his advantage, as it meant he could anticipate them a little bit, and tense up as he turned and set her back down.
“Shh, you don’t want to wake your mama or your sisters,” he said lightly, while he peered into the oven. He had already guessed it was a cake. He could only sort of make out the cake through the little window, in the dim yellow light. But it was clearly blue.
“Junie,” He said, not looking away from the oven, “would you please make sure the food coloring doesn’t drip on the floor?”
She gasped a little bit, and by the time he straightened back up. She was ripping a wad of paper towels from the under counter holder.
“It was supposed to be a surprise.” Lucie said.
“Well, I’ve got to make Mama her breakfast.”
“It’s your birthday, shouldn’t she make it for you?” Junie asked.
Percy raised an eyebrow, and Junie nodded, conceding his point. Annabeth Jackson was one of the most amazing people to ever have existed. She could slay monsters and fell giants and design monuments and lead armies and kiss booboos and sew historically accurate high medieval princess dresses from late Byzantium. But she could not cook.
“Right,” Junie said, and then she started nodding. “Exactly, Mama can’t cook. So, she never makes you breakfast, or special treats for your birthday, like you do for all of us.”
“So you two decided to make me a cake?”
“Yeah,” Lucie said, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Happy birthday, Daddy.”
“Thank you, Birdie.” She grinned up at him. She was missing a tooth. It was horribly adorable.
“Happy birthday, Dad,” Junie said, with much less enthusiasm.
“What’s wrong, Honey Dew?” She frowned at the childish nickname. Because his baby had just turned ten two weeks ago.
“It was supposed to be a surprise,” she said. “A special surprise.”
“It’s both,” he assured her. He kept a hold of Lucie but shuffled over to Junie, hugging her after turning off the stand mixer. The buttercream was more like sweet, blue butter at this point. But that was alright. They should probably wait until the cake had cooled before worrying about frosting. “Thank you for thinking of me.” He ruffled each of their sets of curls, and held them close. They were so grown up now. Able to wake up early and make a mess in the kitchen.
The smell of baking was filling the air, and it smelled like they’d probably done it mostly right.
“You’re welcome, Daddy,” Lucie said.
“Tell me about how you got the idea.”
“It was mine,” Junie said, her mother’s daughter, always eager for credit for her brilliant ideas. It had already cost her two schools, which was a lot for a rising fifth grader, though not quite his record. So he counted it as a win. “We’ve been having Mia teach us.”
“That was very nice of Mia,” Percy said. He really had hoped, after ten years, his mother would have gotten over her deep resentment over having a grandchild before she was forty, which had resulted in her absolute refusal to be called anything with the slightest hint of Gran in it.
Some of the skepticism must have leaked into his voice.
“I’m allowed in the kitchen unsupervised,” Junie said defensively.
“I’m pretty sure there was more to that agreement,” Percy said, chief among them being ‘the ten-year-old does not count as supervision for her little sisters.’ Though that was kind of in a gray area with Lucie, who just needed to not get distracted around heat. It wasn’t like they were worried about knives and their kids, after all. “But you’re not in trouble, baby, I promise. I am so happy you did this for me. But I am going to need help cleaning up. And then we’ll re-make some butter cream. And then you can start helping me prep the olives for Mama’s anniversary breakfast?”
At 9:30, he was something like done with breakfast. The spread of homemade cinnamon rolls, bacon, sausage, quiche, and olives were all laid out on multiple trays.
Left her to own devices, Annabeth would have liked to sleep later, but he knew she wouldn’t be. He went back into their bedroom, Junie and Lucie carrying other things, to find her sitting up in bed. Sophia in her lap and Thalassa next to her, the three of them acting out a Greek tragedy with stuffies.
“Happy Anniversary,” he said. Reminding Lucie to put the giant tray of Olives on the bedside table and Junie to set the rest of the quiche down and go get more plates so they could all eat together.
They settled in together, the six of them, sitting on the bed to eat breakfast. Their bedding was going to require a lot of washing when this was over. But that was okay, because fiber crafts were just one of Annabeth’s many talents. She was great with laundry. Everyone had cinnamon rolls, Thalassa got cream cheese icing in her hair, and Sophia sucked on a piece of bacon, while Junie and Lucie recounted their cake decorating adventure. Percy had to leave at one point to get another jar of olives. Proof, he thought, of how much he loved his girls.
When he got back, they had all shifted enough that he was able to sit right next to Annabeth. She leaned into him as Junie used the stuffed animals to explain the Allied powers' aviation strategy during World War II, because she spent a lot of time with her grandfather.
He felt Annabeth’s hand start fishing for his, and he grasped it, squeezing tightly. “Happy fourteenth anniversary.” Percy whispered, turning his head to plant a kiss on her close-cropped curls.
“Happy thirtieth birthday.” Annabeth replied.
“Best one yet.”
“You say that every year.”
“It's true every year,” Percy said, “every single birthday since my sixteenth has been getting better and better.”
“Well, I’m hoping this one can get better. I have plans, and they involve your favorite foods that I can buy from restaurants in New York City, and a Moana/Finding Nemo double feature, and my dad taking the girls for five hours after lunch.”
“Better and better, like I said.”
Something Junie had said caused Thalassa to break out into a pile of giggles. Not wanting to be left out, Sophia copied her.
Percy felt it in his heart, all of this. Happiness and love, and his perfect family.
“Happy birthday to me,” He whispered to himself before joining in the laugh.
dallaswinstons
