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Chapter Text

“…I mean, just one tap, and boom – it tells me my sleep schedule is shit,” Jason heard his friend Reyna saying.

“I mean, I hate to break it to you, Rey,” he responded, voice laden with sarcasm. “I don’t think you need a fancy watch to tell you that your sleep schedule is shit. One look in the bathroom mirror will tell you that for free.”

“Hey,” laughed Reyna, waggling her finger. “Watch yourself, young man. You’re on thin ice.”

“Okay, okay.” He held his hands up. “I take it back.” Reyna raised an eyebrow at him.

“Damn, just one snarky comment? You’re really out of it today, aren’t you?” Jason hung his head, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“I failed my detective exam again today,” he admitted. “I still haven’t told Piper that I’ve been lying to her.”

Reyna continued to stare at him, brown eyes boring into the side of his head. “We’re having dinner tonight, Jason.”

Jason turned to her. “Oh shit, really? Thank you for that reminder, Sherlock.”

“I’m just saying! I can give you time, but sooner or later, she’s gonna find out. Not to mention, Thalia’s not gonna put up with this for much longer,” Reyna protested.

“The most frustrating thing is that I know all the answers,” he vented. “I just, it’s like I freeze under the pressure. Plus, shouldn’t Thalia be on my side? You know, as my literal sister.”

His friend made a noise of dismissal. “Please,” she started, “older sisters are always the ones to call you out in your bullshit. Speaking from experience.”

“Yeah, yeah, ok,” he surrendered. “I’ll tell her eventually. Just, give me tonight? Please?”

“Fine,” she replied. “Thals won’t like it, but okay. You’re lucky I love you.”

Jason blew her a kiss while walking off. “Thank you! See you tonight!”

After saying goodbye to Reyna, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and pulled it out – it was a message from his wife.

———

Pipes

Hey babe I need Claritin can u pick some up for me

———

“Claritin,” Jason repeated to himself, trying to make sure he would remember. “I need to get Claritin.”

•

“…Oh my god, look!” said Katie, pointing to the TV awkwardly, being careful not to move her head, as Piper was currently foiling her hair.

“He took her in a helicopter?” Kayla exclaimed, craning to see the screen from where Valentina was putting her hair in braids.

“My husband won’t even pay for Uber black,” Katie remarked, voice full of ire. Piper laughed out loud.

“Yeah, I can’t remember the last time Jason did something romantic! He used to leave me these cute little notes, and we would kiss all the time. We’re not even in our 40s and the romance is already dead.” Valentina snorted.

“Embrace it, chica. When my husband wants to fifar, he just texts me the eggplant and donut emoji.”

“That’s bullshit,” complained Katie. “It’s not even that hard. There’s people in the street that come up to you to get you to buy flowers! It could not be easier for them.”

“Exactly!” Piper chimed in. “Tomorrow is our fifteen year anniversary and he still hasn’t followed through on that trip to Europe he promised me on our wedding day.”

“Fifteen years?” asked Kayla, looking up from her magazine.

“Eso es sombrió, mi amor,” Valentina commented, sucking her teeth. “You have to do something about that. Rekindle tu chispa!” Piper rolled her eyes at her friend’s flair for the dramatic.

“Why don’t you just tell him?” suggested Kayla.

“But I don’t want to have to tell him,” Piper sighed. “I want him to know, you know?”

“That may be a little unrealistic, hun,” Katie sympathised. “They never just ‘know’.”

 “Yeah,” Valentina agreed. “You have to tell men everything.”

“Amen,” Katie added, mockingly kissing three fingers and holding them up. “If you want them to put the dishes in the dishwasher instead of the sink, you have to tell them. If you want the flickering light in the bathroom fixed, you have to tell them. If you want them to shower before bed, you have to tell them. If you want them to take out the trash, you have to tell them. Ugh.”

“I mean, maybe you could just text him airplane, wine glass, Italian flag, eggplant…doughnut, doughnut, doughnut,” said Valentina, causing a peal of laughter to escape from Piper’s mouth.

•

Jason was staring at the medicine boxes so hard he could imagine lasers coming out of his eyes. “Claritin,” he muttered to himself. Claritin. But the Allegra was like, five dollars cheaper. Could he get away with it?

“Ah, fuck it,” he decided. Claritin couldn’t have been that much better. Not for five dollars. He grabbed the purple box (ignoring the feeling that the Claritin box was judging him) and grabbed a $50 Amazon gift card for Piper and a card with a terrible pun on the front on his way to the checkout.

He stopped in front of a teenager wearing a backpack, leaning in to murmur, “Are you gonna tell them about the stuff in your backpack?”

The teenager jumped, turning around. “Mind your own business, dude,” they complained. “I’m paying for this.” They nodded towards the granola bar in his hand. Jason raised an eyebrow, scanning them up and down.

“I like your sneakers, dude,” he said, eyeing the adolescent’s Supreme (ugh) shoes. “They must have been expensive. Is that why you can’t afford the Monster and the flamin’ hot Cheetos in your bag?”

Jason unzipped the bag. “Whoa! Can’t believe I was right,” he remarked cheerfully.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” the teenager said, trying to sound threatening (but failing due to the fact that they were a 5 foot white person wearing a chain around their neck). “I’ll mess you up, old man.”

“Old man,” Jason huffed. “Jesus, I’m only in my late 30s.”

He flipped open the little wallet with his cop badge in it and revelled in how fast the teenage menace lost their smirk. “I’ll tell you what,” he offered patronisingly. “Even though I should throw you in jail just for the ‘old man’ comment, I’ll let you go if you put all of this back. And apologise for being rude.”

Jason smiled as the little shit sulked off to go put their would-be spoils back on the shelves.

•

“Whoa, there,” Jason said, in the bathroom with Piper after the (extremely awkward) dinner with Reyna and his sister. “We’re doing the angry flossing again, are we?” Piper didn’t say anything.

“No?” Jason continued. “You’re not gonna tell me why you’re mad?” His wife only exhaled sharply and turned on her heel, walking towards their bedroom. She reached the end of the corridor and exhaled once again, stalking back towards him. Jason held up the bag of floss picks, as if sacrificing something to higher powers.

“Uh-oh,” he said. “You’re gonna yell at me. Here, do you want to angry-floss some more? You can have the floss back.” He moved forward cautiously. Piper finally reached him and gave him a small shove backwards.

“Why haven’t we gone to Europe yet, Jason?” She sounded surprisingly calmer than she looked. “Huh? You have to explain this to me. It’s been fifteen years. We never go anywhere.” Jason scoffed.

“We travel! I took you to the Poconos that one time!”

“I– what? That was for a funeral, Jason.”

“Okay, well, how about when we went to, uh, Virginia?” Jason asked. “When my uncle was in a hospice and we got to see him die? How about that?” Piper rolled her eyes so far back into her head that Jason worried for her health.

“Come on, Jace. A hospice? Really?”

“Okay,” he acquiesced. “That was a weak example. But we have to have travelled at least once when someone wasn’t dying.” Piper rolled her eyes again.

“Do you even remember the postcard?”

“Of course I remember the postcard!”

“Well then, what on Gaia’s green earth are you waiting for? Fifteen years have passed! Please explain to me what it is you are holding out for!” Piper sighed, turning back towards the corridor. “Look, I’m going to bed, okay? We’ll talk in the morning.”

Jason watched his wife’s retreating figure, pinching the bridge of his nose. He really should have just been honest with her about the whole detective thing there and then. But she just…she just looked so disappointed. In him. Fuck. Jason sighed deeply, releasing his nose. He was going to hate himself for this later.

“Now you’ve done it, Piper,” he said frustratedly.

“What. What, exactly, have I done,” she responded in kind.

“Well, I told you I had something big for you at dinner, didn’t I?” (He had, in fact been referring to the $50 gift card from earlier). “You just couldn’t wait, could you?”

“No,” Piper said in disbelief.

“Yes,” Jason replied, smiling. “We’re going to Europe, baby. Happy anniversary.”

“No! Oh my god,” she exclaimed, realisation dawning on her face. “Oh my god! Jason!”

Externally, they looked like a married couple, rekindling their ‘chispa’. Internally? Jason was not impressed with himself.

•

Piper was sitting next to Jason on the aeroplane, one leg over the other, reading one of her weird mystery novels she liked so much.

“The butler did it,” Jason muttered, looking over his wife’s shoulder. Piper turned in her seat to look at him.

“I– what?” she said, giving him a ‘what-the-fuck-is-wrong-with-you’ look. “There is no butler. This is Unholy Murder. It’s set in a church?”

“Oh,” he responded. “What’s the equivalent for butler in a church? Like, a bishop? The bishop did it, then.”

“What?” Piper whisper-shouted, confused. “That’s not– a bishop is a high-ranking position. A butler is– ugh. You know what? Just shut up and let me enjoy my book, please.”

“Jeez, okay,” Jason said, giving side eye to the back of the seat in front of him. “Someone’s angry.” Piper rolled her eyes.

“Do you wanna, like, take a nap?” she asked him.

“Take a nap?”

“Yeah, just– I think it would be good for both of us. Just, go to sleep for a bit.”

“I mean, if you think so, I guess.”

“Yeah, Jason. I do think so,” Piper said, looking like she was trying hard not to lose it. “Oh, and honey?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t do that thing you do.”

“What thing?”

“The thing where you lay the seat all the way back.”

“Why is that a thing that I do? Everyone does that,” Jason replied defensively. “That’s what the button is for.”

“No, only you. Everyone else knows it’s rude.”

“Sure,” Jason agreed.

“Right? Because you– you splay out,” Piper said, gesturing to the area around him.

“Alright.”

“And then your seat is in, like, the lap of the guy behind you.” Piper continued gesturing.

“Okay.”

“Just– be considerate.” She rubbed Jason’s arm.

“I’ll stay up. Thank you.”

“Okay, thank you,” Piper replied, turning back to Unholy Murder.

Then:

“Timber,” Jason said, drawing out the end and putting his seat all the way back (much to the chagrin of the guy behind him).

“I–” Piper gave up and looked away, cradling her forehead in her hand with her elbow on the armrest.

•

Jason was snoring and Piper was, to be quite frank, a little fed up. She made a movement for the flight attendant passing by to help her. “Excuse me? Hi! Um, do you think I could maybe have some earplugs?” she requested.

“Yeah, absolutely!”

“Oh, great,” Piper sighed in relief.

“That will be…nine dollars,” the attendant said cheerfully.

“I– nine dollars? For earplugs?”

“Yes,” the flight attendant stated simply, as if there was no issue with this.

“You know what? That’s okay. I’ll just use my peanuts.” The flight attendant left Piper looking around dejectedly at the prospect of subjecting herself to Jason’s snoring for the remainder of the flight.

Then, Piper had a lightbulb moment at the sight of another flight attendant pulling back the curtain that divided the economy section from the first class section. She could just run over there and take some! It was only low-quality foam – it’s not like she was stealing something of actual value.

She snuck past the flight attendant and was immediately greeted by the sight of a fancy lounge area leading into the part with seats. Piper walked through it and nabbed one of the little plastic bags of earplugs from a side table of one of the seats that was currently empty.

Once she was in possession of her prize, she doubled back to check out the lounge some more. It had long couches  lining the edges, a table laden with food pushed up against the wall dividing it from economy, and a semicircular bar table with bar stools protruding from the wall opposite the table. She spotted a shallow dish with pistachios on the bar and grabbed a few, leaning on the surface to eat a few.

“A fellow insomniac, I see.” A deep, male voice took her by surprise.

“Jesus.” Piper jumped half a foot in the air. “Yeah– yes. Yep. I just– I cannot sleep on those things,” she stuttered.

The man made a noise of agreement, and Piper took a second to observe him. He had skin a little too brown to be a tan – he was maybe (at least partially) South Asian if Piper had to guess – (artfully) messy black hair, his nose had a slight bump in the bridge, and he had the greenest eyes she had seen in her life. The (extremely attractive) man looked to be in his late 20s or early 30s and was wearing a suit with the sleeves pushed up slightly, and judging by his forearms, the rest of him was just as attractive as his face. Not her type, of course. Piper’s type was all-American blondes (she had no idea why).

He spoke again, bringing her back to the present. “So, what brings you across the pond?” Perfect. The man even had a British accent.

“Um, actually, it’s my– my honeymoon.” (Is that what they were calling it? A fifteen years overdue honeymoon?)

“Oh! Congratulations,” the man replied. “Where’s your husband?”

“Dead,” Piper said dreamily – then she realised what she said. “Asleep! He’s dead asleep. We’ve actually been married for fifteen years, we’ve just been, very, very, very, very, very busy.”

“Oh. Then,” the man said, rising to join her where she was standing, “a toast. To the whirlwind that is your life.”

“Yes,” Piper sighed.

“Sorry ma’am,” a flight attendant said behind her, once again causing her to jump. “The bar is for first class passengers only.”

“Oh, of course!” she exclaimed apologetically. “I’m so sorry!”

“Actually,” her companion cut in, “she is my guest.”

The flight attendant smiled at him. “I’m afraid, sir, that she would need her own first class ticket.”

“Percy Jackson,” the man (Percy?) stated simply, as if he was saying abracadabra.

The flight attendant seemed to realise something and responded, “Oh! I’m so sorry sir,” before walking away like nothing had happened. Piper looked at him with newfound admiration, wondering who on earth he could be to be able to dispel annoying flight attendants just by saying what was presumably his name.

“Percy Jackson,” she said, trying out the words in her mouth. “Is that your real name?”

“I’m afraid so,” Percy Jackson replied, looking a bit sheepish. “Bit antiquated, don’t you think?”

“Depends on what it’s short for.” Piper raised an eyebrow.

Percy looked embarrassed. “Not Percival, if that’s what you’re thinking – it’s much, much worse than that.”

“Oh?”

“Perseus Jackson, delighted to make your acquaintance,” he said in an exaggerated version of his accent, pretending to bow. Piper snorted.

“It could be worse,” she assured him. “In high school, I once dated a Greek boy named Hercules. I mean, that’s not even the Greek version of the name!” Percy put his head in his hands, chuckling.

“No, but really,” Piper said. “That sounds like it just fell out of like, a mystery novel or something.”

“And which character do you think I’d be?” Percy asked, raising his head.

“With a name like that? Totally the bad guy,” she told him.

“Well then,” he responded, raising his glass, “a toast to the bad guys.”

•

“Okay, okay,” Piper said, holding a hand up. “Let me get this straight. So your fiancée, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Leaves you…for your elderly uncle,” she continued.

“For my elderly uncle, yes,” Percy confirmed.

“And–”

“Will you two kindly shut up?” an older woman whisper-shouted from a seat in first class.

“Oh, do be quiet,” Percy whisper-shouted back. “Or we shall tell everyone about the ferret you have smuggled in here.” Piper let out an uncharacteristically high-pitched giggle.

“The whole thing is tawdry, I know,” he said, turning back to her to further remark on his, um…complicated family situation. Who even says ‘tawdry’ anymore? “He desired my betrothed, and Uncle Zeus always gets what he wants.”

“Zeus,” Piper repeated under her breath, “Uncle Zeus.”

“Bedeau,” said Percy.

“Excuse me?” she replied, confused.

“My uncle. Zeus Bedeau,” he clarified.

“Zeus Bedeau is your uncle,” Piper said disbelievingly.

“Unfortunately.”

“Zeus Bedeau. The billionaire.”

“Believe you me, I’m just as horrified by the fact as you are,” Percy responded, taking another sip of whatever fancy alcohol was in his glass. “You know what? He actually–” Percy held up a particularly strange-looking olive, “looks just like this, if this wrinkled olive had seventy billion dollars.” Piper snickered.

“Seventy billion dollars,” she repeated, awestruck.

“I know. He’s disgustingly rich,” he agreed. “I’m travelling to Monaco with the newlyweds on his yacht for the Grand Prix this weekend.”

“Why? Why in the fuck would you do that? Pardon my French – no pun intended,” Piper questioned. Percy snorted (Piper wasn’t sure if it was because of her bad joke about French or because he was on the verge of a breakdown).

“Because I’m English, Mrs Grace,” he told her, downing the rest of his drink, “by upbringing, anyway – which means I’m a sucker for social masochism.”

“Oh. Lovely,” Piper commented, unsure as to what exactly she was supposed to say to that.

“Not to mention,” Percy said cheerfully, a genuine smile spreading across his face, “I plan on getting blind drunk and ruining the festivities.” Piper put up a fist in solidarity.

“I say, Piper!” He turned to her, eyes sparkling.

“Yes, Mr Jackson, what do you say?” Piper interrupted, mimicking an English accent.

Percy looked disturbed. “That might be the only decent English accent I’ve heard from an American in…well, forever. But what I wanted to ask was, do you and your husband have plans this weekend?”

Chapter Text

Jason awoke with a start to find the cabin lights still off and his wife’s seat empty. He stuck his head out to look up and down the aisle, wondering where she could have gone. Maybe she had gone to the toilet? He went to check, but it was vacant. Huh.

Then he heard laughter coming from the first class bar behind the curtain. He knew that laugh. Piper. He looked, and there she was, chatting to an (extremely attractive) man at the bar.

Wait. This plane had a bar? Huh.

“Sir,” a flight attendant said, approaching him. “This is the first class lounge. I’m afraid I’m gonna have to ask you to return to your seat.”

“There’s bars on planes now?” he asked her incredulously.

“Planes have bars now. In first class,” the exasperated flight attendant replied.

“Wow. I wish my mother was alive to see this,” Jason remarked.

“Sir—”

“She was an alcoholic,” he informed the bewildered woman. “But like, a nice one. To me, at least.”

“Sir, please return to your seat. If you don’t I’m gonna have to call—”

“The police,” Jason finished her sentence, flashing his badge. “So that’s my wife, talking to that handsome man over there. So I’m gonna go break that shit up, possibly grab myself a beer, maybe you a Xanax, okay? Okay.” Jason moved past her and grabbed a walnut from the little table against the wall.

“…nobody writes letters anymore though, of course,” he could hear the man saying.

“I know! Pity, isn’t it?” Jason chimed in. Piper turned around, surprised.

“Hey!” she said, gesturing for him to come over. “Jason, you’re awake!”

“Really?” he responded drily, pretending to have just realised he was there. “I hadn’t noticed! Looks like you didn’t, either.”

Piper cleared her throat and turned back to sex on legs (that was what he was calling the attractive dude). “Percy, this my husband Jason. Jason, this is Percy Jackson! I met him like, an hour ago. He’s a lord. A lord?” she turned to ‘Percy’ (Jason wanted to indicate that he didn’t trust this dude) for confirmation.

Jason shook the male model’s hand, who replied, “Well, actually,  a viscount. It’s just a bit confusing because viscounts are addressed as ‘Lord’, which probably accounts for the lovely Piper’s confusion.”

Then, turning to Piper, he said, “I do hope you consider my offer.” Jason was visibly confused.

Piper put a hand on his arm, explaining, “He’s inviting us to spend the weekend with him on a yacht with his family! Isn’t that exciting?”

“Don’t we have plans?” Jason asked her.

“…on a bus.” Piper looked at his like he was stupid. Fair enough.

Piper excused them to talk in private for a bit.

•

“Jace, come on,” she said. “It’s a goddamn yacht. I don’t even know how to spell ‘yacht’.”

“You’re dyslexic,” he pointed out. She waved her hand dismissively at him. “I don’t trust that guy.”

“Why?” she questioned.

“Because.”

“Because?”

“Because instincts, babe,” Jason said.

“Bullshit.”

“Plus, I’ve been working my ass off and saving all this money – and I know I’m not a duke—”

“He’s a viscount,” Piper interjected.

“Whatever. I don’t even know what that is—”

“I know. It’s okay,” Piper replied. “Okay. I’m sorry. I just got a little– a little overexcited—”

“I know, it’s okay,” Jason said, echoing her.

“But it’s okay! We’re gonna do the bus, it’s gonna be great! We can learn about how they age cheese—”

“Ham.”

“Are you sure it’s ham? This is France – don’t they eat old cheese here?”

“Babe. It’s ham. It’s Spain. I think. Whatever – it’s all Europe, regardless.”

“Okay, if you say so. But the point is that I’m sure we’re gonna love the bus.”

•

They were not gonna love the bus. They took one look at the crowded line of people outside it (who were extremely loud, by the way – parents trying to control their misbehaving children and console their crying babies; old people grumbling at each other; stressed tour managers shouting at everyone – it was a complete disaster) and turned to each other.

“Let’s do the, uh, let’s do the yacht, okay?” Jason said.

“Thank you,” Piper responded exasperatedly.

“Okay. Um, Jackson!” Sex on legs looked up from where he was leaning against his fancy-ass car.

“We’ve changed our minds!” Piper yelled over the clamour. “We’re gonna come!”

“Splendid!” Percy replied. “Off we pop, then!”

•

As they approached the (impressive, in Piper’s opinion – Jason thought it was going to be bigger) yacht, they looked up and saw and a scary blonde woman on the second floor staring down at them through designer sunglasses.

“I bet that’s Percy’s ex-fiancée,” Piper said to Jason. “You know, the one that left him for his uncle?”

“I mean. It’s pretty memorable. It’s not like I was just gonna forget,” Jason snarked playfully back at his wife, prompting yet another dramatic eye roll.

They stepped on the boat, watching Percy greet his ex-fiancée with the European two-cheeks-not-really-a-kiss thing people did.

“Wow, he’s so pretty,” Piper said, marvelling at Percy’s attractiveness.

“So pretty,” Jason agreed. “He’s like, that kind of pretty that you can’t really tell what country he’s from.”

“I’m half-Indian on my mother’s side,” Percy said, evidently amused. Piper smacked Jason’s arm.

“You’re not watching goddamn TV, Jason,” she whisper-shouted at him.

“Sorry! I forgot, because, you know, they’re all so unrealistically pretty.” Piper rolled her eyes again. Jason wondered if she could set a Guinness world record or something.

“Crashing the party with civilians, I see,” the blonde said, raising a perfect eyebrow. “Are you drunk?” She had taken off her sunglasses and her scariness only increased when they saw her grey (like, properly grey) eyes narrow. Percy seemed unfazed, though.

“It’s only noon, Annabeth, my love,” he replied cheerfully, smacking her arm lightly with his sunglasses case. “Of course I’m drunk. But more importantly, where, oh where, is your beloved, Sir Liver Spots? The care home, perhaps? Or is he picking out a coffin at the mortuary? No, wait, don’t tell me,” Percy continued taunting Annabeth, a shit-eating grin on his face, as if he was holding himself back from laughing at his own joke, “Hell.”

He really did laugh at his own joke then. For a moment, Annabeth almost looked like she might, too, before she schooled her expression back to her ‘don’t fuck with me’ expression.

“Zeus,” she said, “isn’t here yet. You know how he loves his dramatic entrances.”

“Well, I daresay you know more about Zeus’ entrances than anyone at this point,” Percy snarked, still grinning smugly. Jason guffawed at that. Piper had to clamp down a laugh too – and she almost thought she saw Annabeth do the same, but then she scoffed and walked off.

“Nice to meet you!” Piper told her as she walked past. She was not afforded the pleasure of a response.

“Sorry you had to see that,” Percy told them, clearing his throat.

“Actually, I almost started to kinda like you until you apologised,” Jason told him.

“Yeah, that was quite entertaining, actually,” Piper agreed.

“Well–”

“Perseus,” interrupted a cold voice from behind them. “So glad you could make it.” Piper could not tell for the life of her if this was deadpan sarcasm or just Britishness. (Was there even a difference between the two?)

“And you brought…guests,” the voice continued.

“Allow me to introduce my cousin,” Percy said to Piper and Jason. “This is Nico di Angelo Bedeau – Zeus’ only son, and the man Annabeth would have left me for, had he not been a screaming queen, so to speak.” The ‘screaming queen’ looked to be in his late 20s like Percy, and had dark hair and an olive complexion.

“Hypocrite,” Piper thought she heard Nico mutter. Piper quite liked that, actually – maybe she would refer to all gay people as screaming queens from now on. Jason was a screaming queen. She was a screaming queen. Thalia was a screaming queen. Reyna was a screaming queen. Honestly, who wasn’t a screaming queen? Even Percy and Annabeth gave her screaming queen vibes. Maybe that’s what Nico was referring to.

“Thank you for having us aboard, sir,” Jason said.

“Yeah, it’s really nice,” added Piper.

“It’s my father’s boat.” Nico’s voice was utterly devoid of emotion. “How do you know Percy?”

“Oh!” Piper laughed. “We go all the way back to, uh, six hours ago. Yeah, we met on the plane.”

“Interesting,” Nico deadpanned. “Well, I’m sure we can find a spare cabin. You know, considering what old friends you three are.”

•

“…sex-crazed oldster Zeus Bedeau married 28 year old Annabeth Chase this week. What could be her motivation? Perhaps the $70 billion his son Nico was meant to inherit,” Piper read off her phone. “Honey, do you realise we are quite literally in the middle of a TMZ story?”

“You were right about this yacht.” Jason’s voice floated in from the bathroom. “Their shaving cream smells like coconuts.”

Piper sneezed violently. “Excuse me,” she said. “Babe, can you pass me the Claritin?” A bottle of allergy medicine sailed through the door.

“Jason! This is Allegra! You said you bought Claritin!”

“Same difference, Pipes.”

“It’s not! Allegra doesn’t work for me,” she protested.

“Okay, well, the Claritin was five dollars more than the Allegra. Consider this me protesting against American consumerism.”

“Do you mean capitalism?” Piper raised her eyebrow, throwing the purple bottle back at him.

“I don’t know what either of them mean, actually,” Jason said, making Piper giggle.

•

“Smile!” Jason said, snapping a photo of Piper.

“…need to stop drinking, Percy,” came Annabeth’s voice from an upper deck behind them. (Note the indefinite article, because, yeah, there was more than one goddamn upper deck. Rich people are mad.)

“Look at them,” Piper remarked. “Why is he torturing himself like that? I mean, she’s already married to Zeus.”

“Love,” Jason replied sagely, “does not follow logic. I’m sure some poet or whatever said that.”

“No, but seriously! I don’t even know what else they could be saying to each other!”

“She’s saying he’s a smug asshole,” came a female voice from below them, “and he’s calling her a flighty, insecure gold digger–” Jason and Piper looked down at the figure reclining in the sunbed next to them – who propped themselves up on their elbows upon making eye contact – “and they’re both right!”

Jason and Piper took a moment to observe the speaker, a Black woman with dark brown natural hair and brown eyes – both of which almost seemed to be gilded with golden-ish highlights in the sun. She was wearing a red swimsuit and kaftan, with yet another pair of designer sunglasses (did all rich people have these?) which she had lowered, and looked awfully familiar.

“You–” Jason stammered, “how do I know you? You’re, uh…”

Piper would have responded, but she was too awestruck by the woman’s beauty to remember how to speak. Piper knew she was somewhat of a looker herself, with her brown skin, brown hair and ‘kaleidoscope’ eyes (or so everyone said – she only saw brown eyes with a thin ring of greenish-red towards the bottom (really, it was only central heterochromia) when she looked in the mirror) – but this woman was something else.

“…you’re an actress, right?” she could hear her husband asking.

“All women are actresses, dear.” And this was just perfect, because here was yet another stupidly attractive person with an English accent. Piper just couldn’t catch a break. “…I’m just clever enough to get paid for it,” the woman finished, smiling. “Hazel Lorimer, pleased to meet you.”

“Oho!” Jason exclaimed. “Ohohohoh! My god! Hazel Lorimer! That’s– this is– this is incredible! I– I’m a huge fan! Like, number one! Wow! Hazel Lorimer! Whew! I am Jason Grace! This is my wife, Pippa!”

(Piper didn’t even register that he had said her name wrong).

“I– wow, okay!” Piper said, eager to leave before Jason embarrassed them past the point of no return. “This was so nice! We’re just gonna go put on sunscreen! I– wow! Bye!”

Hazel just nodded generously, looking amused at their fangirling.

•

Ten minutes later and they were looking at her Wikipedia page. “Huh,” Piper said, “her last name isn’t even Lorimer.”

“People change their names all the time, though,” Jason responded.

“How do you come out looking that beautiful?” wondered Piper.

“Oh, she’s had it all done,” Percy interjected, surprising them.

“Huh?” Jason said, dumbly.

“Face, body,” he elaborated. “Feet.”

“Feet?” asked Piper. “Is that even a thing you can get done?”

“Ask Hazel,” Percy chuckled. “I’m sure she’d know. Actually, would you guys excuse me for a moment? I need to greet the ambassador.”

“Oh, yeah, absolutely,” replied Jason, completely missing the rhetorical question.

Just as Percy walked away, a menacing man in an eyepatch came up the stairs, accompanied by a bodyguard.

“Hey, honey?” Piper tapped Jason on the shoulder. “Don’t look now, but a really scary man with an eye patch just came up the stairs. And he’s just, staring right at us.” Then, of course, Jason looked. “Babe! I literally said, ‘don’t look’.”

“Sorry, jeez. You say eye patch and scary, and I’m gonna look. Of course I’m gonna look!”

“Alright, okay, and he’s walking,” Piper muttered to Jason. “Oh, lovely, he really is walking right at us. Jason!” She was whisper-shouting now.

“Hey!” Jason greeted the two men. “What’s up?”

“Who let you two on board?” the bodyguard, a white (Russian?) man interrogated them. They felt themselves being pushed forward, guided towards the exit. Luckily, Percy spotted them just in time.

“Hey, Colonel! They’re my guests; it’s okay,” he said.

“This weekend is for family only,” the shorter, but more imposing, of the two men, said. He was a relatively short, likely elderly, Black man with a grey beard. He was wearing military uniform with badges and was presumably the man being protected by the bodyguard.

“Really?” Percy challenged. “Last time I checked, you weren’t a member of the family. Neither is Soviet Chewbacca over there.” He gestured to the portly bodyguard.

“Jason, Piper,” he guided them away from the two men. “That is Colonel Chiron Ulenga of the Namibian Defence Force. Zeus’ best friend – he saved his life from a bombing attempt in ’94. That’s where he lost his eye and his–”

“His dick?” Jason interrupted. “Please tell me it was his dick.”

“And that,” Percy pointed to the bodyguard, ignoring Jason, “is Dmitri Radjenko – or Mr D, as we call him – former Spetsnaz, and his bodyguard.”

“Whoa!” said Piper, upon observing Mr D detach the Colonel’s ‘hand’. “That was– that was a hand that just came off. Cool. I’m not freaked out. Nope. Nada.” She looked away.

“Can I ask a question?” Jason turned to Percy. “What kind of ambassador were you talking about earlier?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” he replied. “He’s right over there.” Percy was pointing to an Asian man, sitting on the couch behind them. “Frank!” he called out. “I have some guests I’d like you to meet! Piper and Jason Grace, I present the dignified Ambassador Zhang Yi Fai of China.”

“It’s so nice to—” Piper started, but the Ambassador put his hands together in a prayer position and bowed. Piper and Jason hesitantly did the same.

“We’re so pleased to–” Jason tried, but the Ambassador did it again. Jason and Piper bowed back yet again.

“It’s gr—” Piper was cut off by yet another bow, which she and Jason copied.

The Ambassador started to crack up. Then, in a Canadian accent, said “Whew, that was a blast! It’s hilarious what Americans will do when an Asian person bows, isn’t it? Call me Frank!” He devolved into giggles.

Jason and Piper started laughing, looking a little shell-shocked.

“Anyway,” Percy said. “I never did find out what it was you did, Jason! I know Piper is a hairdresser, but how about you?”

“Jason is a detective,” Piper said for him. Ah. Lovely. The detective thing again.

“I– yep,” Jason was forced to agree, “yeah, that– that’s what I am.”

“Awesome!” Frank looked awestruck. “You ever, you know–” he made finger guns, “anybody?”

Piper laughed loudly. “Jason is– he’s a terrible shot!”

“I’m not that bad!”

“Oh, honey. Yeah, he barely even made it out of the police academy!” She laughed some more, Frank and Percy joining her this time.

“Well, Piper is lactose intolerant,” Jason contributed. “She also burps in her sleep.” Frank seemed to take personal affront to this.

“Huh?” Piper questioned, confused at the relevance of this.

“Oh! I just thought that we were, you know, listing each other’s flaws…” Jason continued to elaborate. Piper raised her eyebrows at him and Percy, as if to complain about Jason’s dramatics.

•

“…whoa,” Jason remarked. “Oh my gosh, look at this, hun.” Piper nodded in agreement, also in awe of the fancy dining room which was somehow on a boat. “You also look stunning, Pipes.”

“Aw, thanks, babe,” she said, reaching over to pinch his cheek. Then, looking around the room and seeing all the tuxedos and fancy dresses, she added, “We’re totally underdressed, though.”

Jason grimaced. “Yeah, that’s on me. Shoulda worn socks.”

Piper was horrified. “You wear shoes without socks?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“No? You know what? Never mind – we’ll talk about this later. I can’t believe–”

Piper was cut off by Frank’s enthusiastic yell of, “Hey! Leo! My man!” She and Jason looked to their right to see a Latinx man enter the dining room (was that what it was called on a boat?). He was also quite short, with a wiry build, but he too had classically handsome features. He was also dressed in a tuxedo, making Jason feel even more underdressed. Piper heard Frank tell ‘Leo’ ‘good luck’, and wondered what for – so, of course, she asked.

“Oh! Well, you see,” Frank started to explain, “Leo here is racing in the Monaco Grand Prix tomorrow!”

“Oh, wow,” Jason congratulated him. “That’s big!”

“Leo Valdez, let me introduce you to…” Frank paused, ostensibly unsure as to what their names were. “Steve and Lady Steve,” he concluded.

Piper and Jason just stared at him for a bit, before correcting him. “Piper and Jason Grace, actually. It’s lovely to meet you, Leo!” Piper shook the man’s hand. “So,” she said, addressing him directly, “you’re a racecar driver!”

“Good, yes,” the bewildered man replied, smiling.

“How do you get into something like that?” Jason inquired. “Asking for a friend.”

“Uh, number one, yes,” Leo replied, chuckling awkwardly.

“You don’t speak English, do you?” Piper asked.

Leo laughed a bit more. “Uh, very fast, yes. Very fast,” he said in his accent. “Welcome, welcome.”

•

Out on the upper deck’s helipad, a helicopter landed. The only human figure that could be seen on the level was the back of a blonde head of hair, rustling in the wind.

•

Back in the dining room (Piper was still unsure if that was its technical name) a golden dagger with an undulating blade was set on a table near the door, inside a glass case. Its handle was topped with a golden dragon’s head, the scaly body of which wrapped around the handle and attached to the middle of the blade.

“What’s that?” Piper asked Percy, eyes fixed on the blade.

“That,” he said, gaze also fixed on the golden object, “is the Bedeau dagger. Chinese steel; jewels from across the Orient; it was a gift to the family from Marco Polo, or so the legend says.”

“Goodness gracious,” Piper said, taken aback by the heirloom’s rich history. “Jason’s grandmother gave us a toaster. From Sears. Or so the legend says.”

She saw Percy open his mouth to reply, but whatever words came out (if any) were drowned out by the ominous thumping of a cane on the stairs. Everyone in the room turned to look, and there he was. The billionaire himself, Zeus Bedeau. The room fell silent.

“My friends,” the imposing man began, “welcome to The Mediterranean Queen. I can’t begin to express how touched I am at your having made the trip here to celebrate my nuptials. You will find, as you get older, that you begin to take stock of life – not just where you have succeeded, but where you’ve failed as well. Or, more importantly, who you’ve failed.” During his little speech, Annabeth had picked up the dagger from where it rested, and he took it from her hands now.

“Annabeth,” Zeus said, turning to her. “My darling bride, who has so much of her life ahead of her. Hazel,” he continued, pivoting to face her, “who shines so brightly on the silver screen.” Hazel smiled. He paused to let his gaze linger on Nico, before turning to look at Leo.

“Leo, my godson, who strives to lead my race team to victory.” Leo looked unfazed, his smile remaining, unchanged, on his face.

He turned again, now looking and Jason and Piper. “You–” He paused for a moment, before asking, “Who are you?”

“Piper and Jason Grace, sir,” Piper responded, further confusing the elderly man.

“They’re my guests, uncle,” Percy cut in.

“You brought guests?” Zeus asked his nephew.

“Well,” Percy reasoned, “you did take my plus-one.” He gestured at Annabeth. 

Zeus continued with his spiel. “My nephew, Perseus, who always finds a way to keep me on my toes.” Percy raised his glass of champagne.

Then, turning again, “My friend, the Colonel, who has kept me safe all these years.” Colonel Ulenga saluted by way of acknowledgement.

“Fai,” Zeus said, addressing Frank, “whose family fortunes have always been aligned with my own.” Frank gave an awkward thumbs-up.

He finally turned back to Nico. “And my Nicolas. All I ever wanted was a son – and here you are. My boy.” Nico looked a bit slighted.

“I’ve spoken to all of you about your position in my will. I thought long and hard about what each of you is truly worth, and I’ve come to this conclusion: you are all leeches. Repugnant. Blood fat. Suckling on the tit of my good work for so many years. You repulse me. This is why I have drafted a new will. It states that my entire fortune goes to Annabeth.”

Hazel scoffed audibly. Nico looked like he hadn’t quite registered the new information. Chiron looked angry and horrified.

“From this moment on,” he added, “you are all cut off.” Percy shook his head, looking amused – almost as if he had expected this. Annabeth remained cool and stoic as ever. Frank just looked scared.

“And perhaps, after I’ve done you this kindness,” Zeus said, apparently still talking, “you will finally be able to make something of yourselves. On your own.” Hazel exhaled sharply and stalked past Zeus through the door, never breaking eye contact.

“Apparently, she’s had enough of my caviar,” Zeus quipped, making Piper laugh against her will.

“Darling?” Zeus took Annabeth’s arm, heading to the dining table and setting down the will. This was when Percy stepped forward.

“You could’ve signed this at home. Instead, you called us here to…what? Humiliate us?” he demanded of his uncle.

“Yes, and you came running,” the man replied.

“Father,” Nico said desperately, “don’t do this.”

“Or what?” he asked, turning around. There was no response. “Yes. That’s what I thought.” He took a pen from Annabeth leaning over the will to sign it, everyone watching intently, when suddenly, the lights went out.

There was an immediate clamour of voices, and a gunshot rang out. Someone screamed. Frank pleaded desperately not to be shot. Then, the lights came back on, just as quickly as they had gone off.

“Daddy!” Nico shouted.

The man in question was lying, face-up, on the carpeted floor, the golden dagger sticking out of his chest. He was not breathing.