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“What are you up to?” Hermes is wearing his up-to-no-good mischievous smile. The first time Apollo saw that smile, Hermes stole his sacred cows.
“Nothing that concerns you.” Hermes gives him a look of pure faux innocence.
Truth. However, he and Hermes have been doing this for millenia and know how to evade each other’s domains by twisting their words.
“Then who?” As much as Apollo is happy Hermes is recovering from his depressive episode due to Luke and May Castellan’s fates, Hermes has a knack for pissing off the wrong people and well, he worries. Sometimes.
Not that he’d ever admit it.
Before Hermes can answer, the doorbell rings. He frowns. “I don't think we're expecting anyone?”
Hermes twitches, and Apollo gets a bad feeling.
Apollo opens the door to see Percy Jackson, of all beings.
Apollo smiles, friendly and alluring. “Hey, Percy! My fav-”
“Is he here?” Percy asks, interrupting him. The demigod is wearing that terrifying expression Poseidon has right before he starts sending tsunamis and hurricanes to torment whichever poor soul or god made the fatal mistake of pissing him off. Behind Percy, the previously clear sky and calm waves are gray and rough. Apollo smells the moisture in the air, preparing to downpour.
Surely it's not Percy that Hermes pissed off. The young demigod has been through much, and Hermes is one of his loudest defenders on Olympus. If there’s one thing all the gossip on Olympus has in common, it’s that Percy and Hermes are genuine friends.
Percy shoves past Apollo, who takes one look at the hurricane about to form above his apartment and shuts the door. He catches up just in time to see Percy lunge at Hermes, who puts Apollo’s table in between them.
“Now, now Percy.” Hermes says clearing having fun toying with the demigod. “Let’s talk about this, okay-”
Percy leaps over the ten-foot table and sends Hermes crashing to the ground. He pins Hermes to the ground, with the tip of his capped pen-sword pressed against Hermes’s chest.
“Where is Blackjack.” Percy demands. “I swear on the fucking Styx, if he’s hurt-”
“He’s fine. I promise.” Hermes assures Percy gently, responding to the very real panic fueling Percy’s anger. “My daughter had an emergency. I told her to take Blackjack.”
“Blackjack is mine.” Percy snaps, and Apollo is taken back by the possessiveness in Percy’s voice.
“I could’ve dropped her off myself.” Hermes muses. “But you’ve been ignoring me, Jackson. George and Martha think you don’t like them anymore.”
“I’m busy with university finals.” Percy grumbles, still glaring. “They should’ve called. Or visited.”
“We could.” Hermes agrees. “But where’s the fun in that?”
Hermes assumes his true form and disappears.
For a second Apollo fears that Hermes killed Percy, but he’s fine. The demigod stomps out of his apartment, jumps into the ocean, turns into water and takes off after Hermes, leaving Apollo alone in his half ruined apartment with a hurricane brewing overhead.
“What the actual fuck.”