Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The night air was full of salt and gunpowder.

The Winchesters were working a case in Salem, Massachusetts where people were being torn apart by the ocean leaving the cops stumped with no identifiable leads. The only helpful evidence they gathered came from a witness who swore a beast came from the water and killed them. Of course, this witness was the only one of 50 or so bystanders who saw anything tangible beyond normal accidents.

After a long and frustrating day of dead ends, the Winchesters waited until night fall to scope out the industrial building where most of the victims had turned up by. Several of the deceased worked at the canning facility and the building had been thoroughly searched by the police with no clues as to a motive.

Dean pulled the Impala up to the side entrance and shared a look with Sam before turning off the engine and opening the trunk. A quick debate and the brothers decide to go with the usual and cover their bases; shotguns loaded with salt, silver blades, and holy water.

As they crept into the building with shotguns in hand, they heard the clanking of chains followed by a slithering sound dragging across the concrete floor toward the east side of the building. Nodding at one another Dean advanced left, tracking the sounds.

Dean paused in his steps as a sudden movement flashed in a doorway ahead of him. The thing - whatever it was - was fast, too fast to be human. Well, Dean thought to himself, hope this thing likes salt rounds.

Raising his shotgun, Dean squinted into the darkness where the creature – slippery from the sound of it – had vanished dragging a trail of questionable dark liquid across the cracked asphalt.

“Sam, you see where it went?” Dean barked, quickly looking around to see where his brother had gone. He could taste the air in the cannery; damp, briny, like a pier at low tide.

He heard a shotgun fire and a hissing sound after impact and Dean swiveled toward the sound.

“Sammy!” Dean yelled.

“I hit it! I think?” Sam replied.

“You think?” Dean said, walking over to where Sam’s voice had come from.

“Well, the shell hit it, but it didn’t seem to do any damage.” Sam said as Dean approached. “The damn thing just took off that way.” Sam pointed in the direction of the docks. “Whatever it is, it’s fast. And it didn’t bleed when I hit it.”

Dean gritted his teeth. Great. Another freak of the week immune to their usual bag of tricks. He hated cases like this – nothing in the lore, no reaction to salt, just a trail of slime and a growing body count.

He was about to suggest regrouping when the temperature dropped. The air became heavy, like a wet cold blanket. Dean turned sharply, heart thudding and saw a figure stepping out of the shadows.

The guy was young, maybe late twenties. He had messy black hair, sea-green eyes that were so vivid the moonlight made them look like they were glowing. He was wearing jeans, a battered leather jacket and was holding – was that a sword?

Dean immediately raised his shotgun. The guy didn’t even flinch. Instead he said, casually, “You’re gonna want to duck.”

Dean didn’t move fast enough. Behind him, the monster – a serpent-like thing, scales slick and black – lunged from the shadows. Before he could react, the new stranger moved faster than Dean could fathom, bronze blade flashing, and slashed at the creature. As if that wasn’t enough, the ground split open at his feet, a surge of water blasting up from the cracks like a geyser.

The monster was slammed by the flood and let out a horrible screech, hissing as the water invaded the new wound in its side and was thrown back into the wall behind it.

Dean stumbled, gaping. “What the—”

Sam yanked him down just before a second surge crashed overhead.

By the time Dean rolled back up onto one knee, shotgun raised, the creature was dead, cleanly decapitated by the stranger’s blade. The ground steamed where saltwater hissed against the bloodstained asphalt.

The stranger turned, planting his sword in the ground like it was nothing. "You're welcome," he said, grinning.

Dean and Sam exchanged a long look.

Then Dean said, very slowly, "You wanna tell us what the hell you are?"

The stranger laughed, brushing damp hair off his forehead. "Name’s Percy," he said. "And what I am is complicated."

Dean tightened his grip on the shotgun.

"Yeah," Percy added, a little more serious now. His eyes -- so damn green — flickered between them, weighing, measuring. "But I think we’re on the same side."

Sam straightened, ever the diplomat. "You hunt?"

Percy shrugged one shoulder. "When I have to. When monsters cross the line."

Dean’s brain was still catching up. Normal humans didn't pull water out of nowhere. Normal humans didn't slice down goddamn sea monsters like they were Tuesday's lunch.

“You’re not a hunter,” Dean said flatly.

“Nope,” Percy agreed easily. “Not the kind you’re used to.”

“And you’re not human,” Dean pressed, shotgun still steady.

Percy gave a small sad smile. “Not as much as I used to be.”

Dean stared at him.

Sam exhaled slowly. “Maybe we should talk somewhere less... exposed.”

Dean wanted to protest. This guy was weird, and Dean didn’t like weird he couldn't explain. But the truth was, Percy had saved their asses. And somehow, Dean didn’t think they were done with whatever the hell tonight had stirred up. "Fine," Dean muttered. He jerked his head toward the Impala. "You’re riding with us."

Percy casually touched something to the tip of his sword, and it shrank into what looked like a cheap pen. "Shotgun."

Dean blinked at the action and then growled. "No way in hell."

Percy just smirked.

When the reached the car Dean glared at Percy while Sam shrugged and sat in the front passenger seat. Percy took a long look at the car, traced his finger across the side and then slid into the back seat with an air of nonchalance.

“Nice car.” Percy said. Dean grunted. Sam gave Dean the side-eye.

The trip back to the motel was awkward. The Impala rumbled down the empty highway, headlights cutting a path through the night. Dean gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror every few seconds. Percy sat sprawled in the backseat like he owned the damn car, tapping his fingers on his knee in an unidentifiable rhythm.

Dean didn’t trust him. Not even a little bit.

He was also ignoring the part of his brain that had noticed the way the guy’s jacket clung to broad shoulders, the way the visible bruises and scars on the guy’s hands and face spoke of years of fighting, the way his cheekbones and jawline looked like they came from a famous sculpture…

Dean subtly shook his head to clear his train of thought.

Sam, predictably, was already in full research mode, typing rapidly on his laptop in the passenger seat.

“So,” Dean said finally, voice sharp, “you gonna tell us what the hell that thing was? Or do we get to keep playing Guess Who all night?”

Percy snorted. “It was a ketos. Greek sea monster. Old-school nasty.”

Dean blinked. "Greek?"

"Yeah. One of the minor ones. The gods don't exactly keep their old pets on a tight leash anymore."

Dean shot a look at Sam, who frowned thoughtfully. "There’s no record of anything like that showing up around here," Sam said. "No lore matches. No previous sightings."

Percy leaned forward, resting his arms on the back of the front seat like they were old friends. Dean realized that Percy seemed completely dry even though he could have sworn he was soaked from the aftermath at the cannery. At least he wouldn’t mess up the upholstery?

Fidgeting with that same unremarkable pen from earlier Percy replied, dragging Dean back to the current conversation “that’s ‘cause normally creatures like that stay in my world. The Greek world. Olympus keeps ‘em bottled up but recently…” He hesitated, and for the first time, a shadow crossed his face as the easy-going façade seemed to slip. “Somethings happening. The old boundaries aren’t holding like they used to.”

Ignoring the thousand questions that had just been inspired by that latest statement, Dean decided to respond with, “Is your sword a pen?”

Percy lit up and went to explain but Sam held up a hand. “Wait,” Sam said, cautious. “Olympus? As in the actual Greek gods?”

Percy gave him a look. “You believe in angels, demons, and everything else that goes bump in the night, but this is where you draw the line?”

Sam opened his mouth, then closed it, looking sheepish.

Dean had refocused on what Percy had said and was stuck on something. “You said ‘my world’ and that ‘the gods don’t keep their pets on a leash anymore.’” Dean narrowed his eyes. “Sounds like you know them.”

Percy’s jaw tightened — just for a second — and Dean didn’t miss it.

"Let's just say," Percy said carefully, "I have some... experience with their particular brand of family drama."

Dean's gut twisted. Family drama. Yeah. He knew a thing or two about that.

"You a god or something?" Dean asked, half-mocking.

Percy barked a laugh. "Hell no. I'd be taller."

Sam smothered a laugh behind his hand.

Dean grunted, refocusing on the road. He hated mysteries. Especially mysteries with smart mouths and swords and cheekbones that could cut glass…

(He was not thinking about the cheekbones.)

They pulled into the cheap motel parking lot ten minutes later. The grand palace of flickering neon signs and questionable stains on the walls.

Dean cut the engine and they all piled out.

They pulled into a cheap motel half an hour later — the kind with flickering neon signs and questionable stains on the walls. Dean killed the engine and they all piled out. Sam grabbed his laptop and a handful of lore books from the trunk, heading toward the room with a focused look. Dean hung back, watching Percy sling a battered backpack over one shoulder, still fidgeting with his sword-pen thingy.

"You always pack a blade to a gunfight?" Dean muttered.

Percy shrugged. "You ever try shooting a hydra?"

Dean opened his mouth — then closed it. Fair point.

Inside, the motel room smelled like old cigarettes and cleaning fluid. Sam dumped his research onto one of the double beds, already setting up. Percy dropped onto the other bed without asking, arms stretched behind his head. Dean glared at him. Percy just grinned lazily, like he knew exactly how far he could push without getting punched.

"You gonna explain how you pulled a water cannon outta the ground back there?" Dean demanded.

Percy tilted his head. “You gonna try to kill me for not being human?”

“Well see,” Dean snapped.

Percy sighed. “Are you familiar with the Greek gods from the stories?”

Sam perked up, “like Zeus, Hera, Aphrodite—”

Percy shushed him. “Names have power.” He replied ominously. “But yes those gods.” Sam nodded and Dean looked between Percy and Sam before nodding as well. Percy continued, “Well you know how the heroes in those stories were descended from the gods?”

“Like demigods?” Sam asked. Percy nodded. “We’ve met one or too but not Greek.” Percy quirked his head curiously at that but seemed to refocus.

“Well, you’ve just met another one. Greek one that is.” Percy said. Dean just stared at him. Sam looked like his questions had sprouted questions.

“You’re the son of a god? Like… literally?” Sam asked.

“Literally.”

Dean scrubbed a hand down his day-old stubble. “Jesus Christ.”

Percy smirked. “Wrong pantheon.” Dean snorted. “Right.”

Sam was already flipping open a book. "This would explain the ketos showing up here," he said, half to himself. "If the Greek pantheon is bleeding into our world, that means new monsters, new rules..."

"New headaches," Dean muttered.

Percy sat up, a little more serious now. "Look. I’m not here to screw with you. I hunt monsters, too. Same end goal, different... heritage."

Dean narrowed his eyes. "Why now? Why show up here? Does this have to do with your…” Dean waved his hands, “parentage?” Percy's face shuttered for a moment. Dean caught it — a flash of something heavy. Fear. Responsibility. Something Dean knew all too well.

“This creature in particular has ties to my parentage, I guess you could say. Honestly it just happened to be water-related which worked out for my powers. I’m mostly here because if the walls between worlds are breaking, if the mist is getting weaker, you’re gonna need my help.” Percy had slowly gotten quieter.

Sam jumped in, “So you have water-related powers?” Percy nodded. “And the ground broke.” Percy nodded again. “And is your dad a god?” Percy nodded a third time. “Poseidon!” Sam shouted like ‘Eureka!’. Percy smirked a bit and nodded again.

“You would give the Athena kids a run for their money. It took them a week to put it together when I first showed up at camp.” Percy chuckled.

Sam looked like he had just discovered a new planet. “There’s a camp full of you—full of demigods?” Percy nodded, looking a bit somber Dean noticed.

“There aren’t as many of us as there used to be.” Percy murmured, looking at a spot on the ground. Dean wondered about the story there but picked up that further questioning on that topic might be unwelcome.

Percy looked up as Dean spoke, “so you’re some kind of water bender? Like something from Avatar? What, can you surf really well?” Percy snorted and it seemed like the right way to break the tension.

“I’ve honestly never tried surfing sadly enough. But I can walk on water.” Percy added.

“Jesus Christ” Dean muttered.

“Yes.” Percy said solemnly.

Dean turned to Sam. “Should we call Cas? He might know more about this.”

“Probably.” Sam said. “It’s your ‘profound bond’ though so you probably should.” Sam rolled his eyes. Percy looked between them and mouthed ‘Cas?’

Dean turned away and closed his eyes. “Cas. Castiel, we found this guy who’s apparently Hercules’ cousin or something--” Percy groaned. “Dude, I hate that guy.” Dean ignored him and continued, “and we need to figure out another world-breaking situation so if you’re not busy with stunt angels #1 and #2 could you get your feathery ass down here to figure this out?” Dean opened one eye, looked around, then sighed and turned back to Percy and Sam.

“Now what?” Percy asked.

“Now we wait.” Dean said and plopped down on a chair at the meager motel table.

The motel room was filled with the soft clatter of laptop keys and the low hum of tension.
Sam sat cross-legged on his bed, flipping through a lore book with one hand while typing into his laptop with the other. Dean leaned against headboard, arms crossed tight, watching Percy like he might sprout a second head if they looked away too long. And Percy, infuriatingly casual, had propped himself up on one elbow on the second bed, scrolling through something on his battered phone.

Dean hated how normal he looked. Like he wasn't some god-spawned miracle kid who could summon storms and kill monsters with a wave of his hand.

"So what’s the plan, Aqua Boy?" Dean muttered finally.

Percy didn’t even look up. "Tracking the next leak."

Sam perked up. "Leak?"

Percy nodded. "Creatures from the Greek pantheon don’t just pop up randomly around mortals. There are... cracks. Rips. Tiny faults between their world and yours. If something opened a hole big enough to let a ketos through, it won’t be the last."

Dean's jaw clenched. "You saying there's more on the way?"

Percy tossed his phone onto the bed, sitting up. His face, for the first time, was deadly serious.
"No. I'm saying there's already something bigger coming. The ketos was just the advance guard."

A heavy silence fell.

Sam closed his laptop slowly. "Any idea what it might be?"

Percy hesitated — just long enough that Dean caught it.

"There are old monsters," Percy said finally. "Older than the gods themselves. If one of those wakes up..." He trailed off, grim. "You're gonna need more than rock salt."

Dean straightened. "You're not scaring us off, kid."

Percy's mouth quirked — not quite a smile. "Didn’t think I was."

Sam cleared his throat. "There’s an abandoned dockyard about thirty miles from here. Cops found bodies washed up — weird injuries, no cause of death. Could be another breach."
Dean grunted. "Then that's where we're headed."

Chapter Text

Sam was clearly ready to jump straight in the car to go investigate this newest problem, but Dean was less inclined hit the road before he got some shut-eye and some food, not necessarily in that order.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Samantha. I need some grub and my four hours before we chase after more of this shit.” He glanced at Percy’s disheveled appearance and the bags under his eyes and confirmed that this was a good idea.

Sam huffed but acquiesced. “Fine, I’ll do a food run.” The only place open this late was probably a truck-stop diner, but Dean could go for some greasy goodness. “I’m guessing cholesterol nightmare burger for you,” he pointed at Dean. “Percy, what about you? Er- do you eat human food or is there like some godly take-out place?” He trailed off awkwardly.

Percy looked amused, “Nah burgers are good with me. And if they have anything blue.” Sam quirked an eyebrow at that, but Dean interjected with “Blueberry pie!” Percy nodded, satisfied.

Sam rolled his eyes and swiped the Impala keys, heading toward the motel door. “Fine. Be back in a few.”

As he walked out Dean called after him, “Don’t forget the pie!” Sam shot him his trademarked bitch face and shut the door.

After a few seconds of silence Dean nodded toward the bathroom and mumbled that he was going to take a shower. A good five minutes under the shitty lukewarm spray was not enough time for him to get his jumbled thoughts in order.

When he emerged back into the room, he stopped in his tracks. Percy was shirtless and appeared to be struggling to clean up a wound on his side that Dean hadn’t noticed. He was frozen staring at what he could definitively say was the work of a god. Planes of muscles rippled as Percy attempted to reach the edge of the injury and Dean stared, transfixed. He was covered in scars of all shapes and sizes. Dean internally winced taking in some of the nastier ones. Despite Percy looking like someone used him as a knife sharpener, he was hot. Now Dean can acknowledge to himself that he finds certain men attractive, not that he’s ever admitted that out loud. Now, looking at Percy, Dean was having trouble thinking about anything more than ‘Holy shit he is so fucking hot- ‘

“Like what you see?” Percy smirked, driving Dean out of his reverie, and drawing his gaze sharply up to Percy’s eyes (He had not been looking anywhere else).

Dean coughed, embarrassed, trying to will away the flush he knew was probably on his face. “Uh, you need some help with that?” He gestured to the slash Percy seemed to be examining.

“Nah, this probably just needs some TLC from the shower. I was just trying to make sure I got the venom out.” At Dean’s confused expression he added, “Ran into some empousai on my way to you guys earlier. Kelli just won’t get the hint after all these years, she’s getting creative,” he sighed. He got to his feet and shuffled to the shower as if that was a good explanation.

Shaking his head he asked, “Are you sure you don’t want me to take a look at that? It looks pretty deep, probably needs stiches.” Percy laughed. “You can save your dental floss for an emergency. Water heals most things for me. Another perk of my ‘aqua-boy’ powers.” He winked at Dean and stepped into the bathroom.

Sam showed back up while Percy was still in the shower and Dean decided stuffing his face was his top priority. Sam was apparently determined to learn everything about the Greek pantheon, so Dean let him be and crashed on one of the beds. After a few minutes he heard Percy settle on the other bed and he drifted off into a light slumber.

They left early the next morning. Dean was quiet as they drove. Percy rode shotgun this time because apparently ‘Percy called it first’ and Sam was too into his research to argue. (Although Dean did not protest much once he saw how well Percy fit there – boots on the dash, battered leather jacket collar turned up against the cold.)

Sam was buried in his laptop in the back, absent mindedly singing along to Zeppelin songs playing even though he probably didn’t realize. Dean glanced back at him as “Whole lotta love” played and thought to himself how most strangers wouldn’t have encouraged this chilled out behavior from his brother. He then glanced at Percy and thought maybe he should give this guy a shot. He reasons that Percy has nothing untrustworthy; he even saved their asses, and he has also been nothing but truthful, as far as he can tell. Plus, there’s something about him that leaves Dean both wanting to know more and protect him, but he can’t put a finger on it.

Something about the guy was just… off. Not in a dangerous or off-putting way per se. But just different. Like Percy moved at a different speed than everyone else, maybe even a second ahead. Like he was waiting for an attack even when everything seemed calm. Like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop before he gave full trust. Like his trust meant more than he could spare to dole out to relative strangers.

Dean understood those feelings better than he cared to admit.

Searching for a way to break the tension Dean said finally, “So, you got a family or something?’ The way Percy tensed let him know immediately that it was not the best way to do so.

Percy’s fingers drummed repetitively against the door.

A beat.

Two beats.

Then he said, voice gentle but brittle, “Had. It’s complicated.”

Dean didn’t push. He knew that tone. He used that tone. He didn’t push. But he understood him a bit better.

The Impala rumbled as they approached the location. The dockyard was abandoned in every sense — rusted shipping containers, broken cranes, the sharp tang of saltwater hanging heavy in the air. Dean pulled the Impala up to the edge of the lot, killing the engine. Sam grabbed his EMF reader and shotgun, Dean his pistol, shotgun, and silver blade. Percy sprang his sword out nowhere (Dean has got to figure out that pen) and together they approached the lot.

They wandered through the yard for an hour or so without any disturbances. Dean was about to suggest they head down to the docks and turned to his brother.

Suddenly, Percy quirked his head and then Dean heard it, a wet slithering noise, just beyond the beam of his flashlight. His head snapped up and he and Percy made eye contact. They signaled Sam. And then, a screech, sharp and wet, and something huge slammed into the crates near Percy. Dean didn’t even think, he just bolted toward him gun raised. The creature was much bigger that the ketos. This one’s face looked almost human, its skin scaled and slick, with elongated spiked limbs and eyes that gleamed like polished shells. It hissed, baring rows of needle-like teeth. Like a murderous oyster made a baby with a fucked-up human, Dean’s brain conjured.

Sam fired a salt round into its shoulder. It barely flinched. Dean swore and took aim at its head. Before he could fire, Percy moved – faster than human reflexes should allow – ducking under the creature’s swing (those arms were huge!), driving his sword upward into its side.

The creature screeched even louder, a truly horrible sound, and whipped its other scaly arm in Dean’s direction. He barely had a split second to even register he was in danger before he caught a look of haunted horror on Percy’s face as he sprang toward Dean, roughly shoving him to the ground and narrowly missing being sliced to ribbons by the monster. Dean looked up at Percy (who was partially on top of him, and felt very firm against his body, Dean’s brain supplied helpfully). Percy’s green eyes looked darker than he had ever seen them, like the shade of the ocean in the swirling vortex of a hurricane. He didn’t have time to figure out how to react to that as Percy leapt to his feet and did something that made his stomach drop.

He raised one hand and the creature shivered. Dean saw it. He saw the moisture in the air condense, saw the blood (why didn’t it look like blood) leak from the creature’s wounds and pull toward Percy’s outstretched hand, twisting into controlled streams. Percy radiated a dark aura of power that he had trouble associating with the joking man he was before. The creature shrieked once more and then burst into golden dust.

Percy exhaled hard, wiping his sword clean on his jeans.

Dean stared at him. Sam stared at him. Percy just looked tired.

Dean was torn between conflicting emotions. Horror and shock were certainly there, but he was caught on the fact that Percy saved him. Did Dean in danger inspire such a reaction? Did he push him to do this?

Dean decided to stow his rage and confusion for the moment and focus on damage control. He did appreciate the lack of clean up.

He laughed nervously, “so, they just burst into dust for you? Man, I would love to never have to dig another grave.” This seemed like the right move, and potentially escaped the ire of the very powerful demigod in front of them, because Percy just exhaled heavily and chuckled.

“It’s definitely less clean-up but it also makes it a lot harder to explain the damage.” He muttered more quietly, “my school expulsion record is proof.”

Sam did not seem to hold such pretenses. “You just water bended that thing’s blood! I didn’t know that was a power of Poseid-, uh I mean the god of the ocean’s power.” He glanced at Dean and seemed to realize his hesitancy. “Uh, I mean thanks. But also, how? Sorry.”

Percy grimaced. “You guys have to understand that I don’t have a lot of references here. I am the only demigod son of my father this century and I haven’t exactly had the most nurturing environment to learn my powers in. There was this… I had to pick up some things in a place that wasn’t very safe and took on some powers that normal demigods, my father’s children included, don’t usually come by.” He looked at Dean and must have picked up on some alarm from him. He rushed to explain, “I don’t use these powers to hurt mortals or those that don’t deserve it. It’s just kind of a defense mechanism when I see someone I care about in danger. I um…” He trailed off awkwardly. “I have this thing, a fatal flaw really, but a thing about loyalty. When I see someone I care about at risk it’s like a reflex. I kinda lose control and my powers do the work to protect them.” He nervously looked at Dean again.

Dean didn’t really know what he was implying. Well, he did, and he understood it better than he wanted to admit, but he didn’t know why Percy had those inclinations about him. Percy had known Dean for maybe a day and Dean doubted that a lifetime of knowing him could be rewarded with such loyalty other than from Sam. Why did Percy care so much about him that he would unleash these powers when he was in danger for only a second?

Dean thought for a second about how he felt about Percy. The first word that came to mind was apprehension. But was that because he was conditioned to fear nonhumans or that he was scared of Percy’s power? He didn’t know. But he did know that there was something about Percy that he implicitly trusted. His dad had taught him to wary of people like him, but he was having a hard time convincing himself that Percy had done anything to warrant that distrust.

He focused back on the mega powerful but anxious demigod before him. Realizing that he still had his gun up, he lowered it slowly. His heart was beating rapidly, but not from fear. Perhaps from recognizing a kindred soul.

He cleared his throat and decided it was safer to change the subject. He glanced at Percy’s still fidgeting hands and nodded to Sam. “Look, we just want to fight the bad guys. If you have a handle on whatever freaky powers you got going on—” he gestured to Percy in general, “then we can figure it out and work together. I respect the loyalty thing. As long as you do right by Sammy then we can figure out how to stop this whole ‘boundaries changing thing.’” God, he even used air quotes. Cas was rubbing off on him.

Percy had frowned when he mentioned protecting Sammy, but he didn’t look like he disagreed.

Percy raised his hand to shake. “I will swear on the river Styx to do right by your brother AND you and figure out how to fix this situation.” He glanced between Dean and Sam and noted their looks of confusion. “Um, an oath on the Styx is like a super serious promise that has really bad consequences if broken.” Dean nodded and shook Percy’s hand. It was warm, warmer than it should’ve been, and also softer than he thought considering the scars. He held on for maybe a moment longer than necessary then let go quickly.

“Okay, then,” Sam interrupted. “We should probably get back to figuring out why this happening and make actual plans beyond tracking monsters based off whatever type of phone that is.” He gestured at Percy’s battered, somewhat functional cracked phone.

“Oh, my friend Leo made this for me. It even has a touch screen and everything. It’s just been through some shit.” He frowned. “But it reverses the tracking that monsters usually have on demigods with technology. Usually when we use phones or the internet it sends a beacon to monsters to come kill us. With this phone it does the opposite. Leo showed me how to home in on the monsters escaping through the Greek curtain, at least that’s what he called it.” Percy explained.

Sam looked at Dean like he didn’t know what to unpack first about that recent statement. Dean added that to the list of the other thousand things they needed to figure out about this guy.

Dean decided that they had had enough excitement for the day and corralled their unlikely group back to a motel room, once again celebrating the lack of grave digging.

Once back at the motel, Dean cracked open a beer, handed one to Sam, then tentatively offered one to Percy. He looked at it then shook his head. Dean shrugged and took a long sip of his.

Percy perched on the foot one of the beds with his sword (that had reappeared, that was so cool) and was staring at it as it splayed across his knee. Dean watched him from across the room and noticed how tired he seemed. Not just from the day, but like a soul-deep, weary exhaustion had set over him. Dean didn’t know why it bothered him so much. Why did Dean care that his apparent swagger obscured the way he looked like it was his job to fight the whole damn universe alone to other people? Why did he relate to that?

Dean set his beer down harder than necessary and crossed the room before he could think better of it. Percy looked up, startled. Dean didn’t say anything. He just carefully sat down beside him. Close enough that their knees brushed. Close enough that Dean pulled back into himself and cleared his throat.

“You don’t have to do this alone you know.” Dean said softly while Sam continued typing on his laptop at the table. “I don’t mean the saving the world part because there’s no way in hell we’re letting you do that without us, I mean the other stuff. The dealing with things stuff.” Dean said while staring at a loose thread on the worn comforter.

After a long moment of Percy sitting unnaturally still, he turned to Dean. “Neither do you.”

Dean turned to look at him, really look, and for heartbeat, one suspended breath, the whole world narrowed down to a matching pair of green eyes and the unbearable hope in them that he wasn’t alone.

After some fabulous dining (gas station burritos), the unlikely trio settled in for the night. Unlike the night before, Dean was having trouble falling asleep. Percy had agreed to take the cot arguing that he was shorter than Sam but neglected to mention that he was just as tall as Dean.

Dean laid there staring at the cracked motel ceiling, hands behind his head, pretending, very badly, that he wasn’t acutely aware of Percy breathing a few feet away.

The kid — no, not a kid, a man — had fallen asleep almost immediately after their hunt. Collapsed onto his bed, one arm slung over his eyes, sword within easy reach.

Dean envied it. The ability to just... let go. He hadn't had that kind of peace since he was, what — four? His brain reminded him that it doesn’t look like Percy has had much peace in a while either.
He shifted restlessly, staring into the dark. Because here was the problem: Percy was messing with his head. Not just because he was powerful. Not just because he was weirdly funny and reckless and good. But because Dean liked him. He wasn’t listening to the Winchester line of thinking of nonhuman = evil. And he was attracted to Percy. If John could see him now.

He rolled over staring at the sleeping demigod not four feet from him. He hated how easy it would be, to reach across the space between their beds and touch him. Hated how much reassurance he might find from that simple touch. Hated how his chest ached every time Percy smiled like he pretended he wasn’t carrying the weight of the world. Hated that he saw that same expression in the mirror.

Dean rolled back onto his other side, cursing under his breath. He couldn’t want this. Not with the world falling apart for the zillionth time. Not with all the people counting on him to keep it together.

Especially not with a guy like Percy – someone who deserved better than a battered hunter with too much blood on his hands and too many scars on his heart.

Dean closed his eyes, willing sleep to come.

It didn’t.

Chapter Text

The next morning, the atmosphere was thick and awkward. Dean grunted his way through his coffee, keeping his eyes anywhere but on Percy. Percy, for his part, seemed... quieter than usual.
Still laid-back on the surface -- tossing pop-tarts into the motel microwave, flipping through Sam’s lore books like he wasn’t paying attention — but there was a subtle shift. A tension in his shoulders. A sharpness to his glance.

Sam noticed. Of course, Sam noticed.

Dean caught his brother's meaningful look and wanted to strangle him.

"So," Sam said, too casually. "What’s the plan?"

Percy leaned against the counter, biting into a pop-tart. "We find the next breach. Close it. Kill anything that crawls out in the meantime."

Dean set his coffee down harder than necessary. "Easy for you to say, Poseidon Junior."

Percy's mouth twitched — a flicker of hurt hidden behind a smirk. Dean winced.

Sam closed his laptop with a loud, deliberate snap. "If the gods are losing their grip," Sam said, ignoring the tension, "we might be looking at full-on mythological creatures bleeding into this world. Titans. Giants. Stuff we’re not equipped to deal with."

Percy nodded, serious again. "That’s why I’m here."

Dean snorted. "And here I thought it was for the charming company."

Percy flashed him a grin — quick and sharp — but it didn’t reach his eyes. Dean felt like he’d kicked a puppy.

Sam cleared his throat. “It might help if we could know more details about what we’re up against. You know, avoid going in blind.” He looked at Percy. “Our rock salt does jack shit and no offense, but I’d like to be able to kill these things too. Right now, all we have is your magic sword thingy.” Sam took a deep breath and continued. “I get that you might not want to discuss everything in detail, but we need some more info if we’re gonna work together on this.”

Percy sighed then nodded. “Alright. I admit that I’ve probably not explained things super well. And maybe been a little stingy with the details.”

Dean snorted. “Understatement.”

Percy shot him a glare. “And I appreciate you guys not shooting me on principle for being so vague.”

Dean huffed.

Percy looked suddenly weary. “Look there’s a lot you guys don’t know, and I lot I don’t really want to talk about, if I’m being honest, but I agree that you guys need more to work with and some context.”

Percy turned to Sam. “The reason your weapons don’t work on these monsters is because Greek monsters are different from your usual buddies. My sword is made from celestial bronze. There are only two types of metals that can affect immortals: monsters or otherwise. Celestial bronze is the Greek kind, and imperial gold is what the Romans traditionally use. These weapons don’t work on 100% mortals.” He pulled out his pen and uncapped it. He went to swipe it at Dean as a demonstration, but Dean hastily retreated and fell backwards tripping on the bed.

“Cool it Little Mermaid! I believe you, damn.” Dean said from the ground. Percy shrugged and recapped his sword-pen.

Sam looked uninterested in Percy attempting to maim his brother. “Wait, back up. You said monsters are immortals. Like they can’t die? We saw you kill those two.”

Percy backed off from trying to kill Dean (seriously why did he need to test that theory so badly) and said, “Monsters can be killed, but when they die, they go to Tartar—” He stuttered and broke off. “They go to Greek super hell and reform.” Dean did not like the tone he said that name with. Like there was something really bad about tartar sauce or whatever.

“Anyway,” Percy continued, “you need specific weapons to do damage to my special breed of monsters. Right now, I only have a spare dagger, but I can IM Leo and have him send me some other stuff. You guys mostly use guns, right?” The Winchesters nodded. “Leo figured out how to make celestial bronze bullets that don’t run out. I don’t know how they work but I’ll see if I can get him to give some up.”

“Leo is another demigod?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, son of Hephaestus. He’s a real fireball,” Percy said as some kind of inside joke. “He’s also been working on some stuff for your type of monsters. Apparently, he found out that one of his foster families when he was a kid was actually a bloodline for Rugarus so he’s been making some new toys. Not all of us can flame on when we need to kill something,” he said with another secret smile.

“Okay, so we can get some weapons. Great.” Sam said. “How do we figure out this breach? There’s gotta be some way to close it or figure out what caused it.” He turned to Percy, assessing. “How did you even know how to find us in the first place?”

Percy suddenly looked uncomfortable. He glanced at Dean briefly with an unreadable expression and quickly looked away. “Well, there have been some disturbances lately and apparently the gods haven’t gotten over their tendency for me to be their errand boy/problem solver, so they sent me to investigate.” Percy looked annoyed and muttered, “if they could manage to get off their lazy asses for once…”

He continued, “other demigods have been reporting instances of Greek monsters targeting mortals and even working with some of the human monsters, which we’ve never seen before. It seems like someone is organizing them, which is not a good sign. They’re usually dumb as shit and only follow demigod scent. Uncle H said at the council meeting that some guy named Crowley that escaped from the Fields of Punishment has been stealing his hellhounds too. I sent Mrs. O’ Leary to tail him.”

Sam and Dean groaned in unison.

“Of course, Crowley has his grubby fingers in this.” Dean complained.

“Mrs. O’ Leary?” Sam questioned.

“My hellhound.” Percy answered with a nonchalance that Dean did not think should go along with that statement.

“Right…” Dean said. “But let’s go back to why you knew how to find us. Couldn’t resist my devilishly handsome good looks?” Percy winked, and Dean regretted saying that immediately.

Percy started fidgeting with his pen. “Well, another thing you have to understand about the Greek world is that quests are driven by prophecies. We used to get them from this old ass corpse but since Rachel took over as oracle it’s a lot less gross.”

Sam blinked. “So, you received a prophecy that led you to come find us?”

Percy looked at his hands. “It wasn’t on purpose. I’ve had enough prophecies tell me what I do so I was pissed when this one happened.” Percy suddenly stood up agitated, looking angry. “Gods forbid they find someone else to figure out their shit! Of course, no one else can stop another apocalypse!” He was pacing back and forth across the threadbare motel carpet.

Dean found himself relating to Percy’s conundrum. He didn’t what previous apocalypses Percy was referring to, but he could relate. God knows he had had enough apocalypses to deal with.

“Rachel had to track me down to my mom’s apartment because I took off the second I saw the green smoke. I did NOT want to deal with some other bullshit.” Done ranting, Percy took a deep breath and sat down at the table. “But yes, I did get a prophecy that led me to come find you guys.” He only looked at Dean when he said that. “I’m guessing you want to hear it?” He looked at Sam, who had already pulled out his journal and a pen.

“Look,” Percy started, “Something you have to know about prophecies is that they’re not super clear and they almost always have a different meaning than you think. They can be helpful, but mostly they just suck.” Sam nodded, always eager for more information, the nerd.

Percy breathed in and spoke.

“When storms awaken hidden graves,
And hunters fall by broken laws,
The breach will bleed where darkness raves,
A child of sea must heed the call.

Seek out the righteous man with claim,
The fire-forged soul with bloody hands,
Through poisoned dusk and crossroads' flame,
He alone shall understand.

Yet should the shadow escape the gate,
Where monsters born of madness rise,
The witch who walks the path of fate,
Shall burn the earth and break the skies.

Only hearts that choose, not chains that bind,
Can heal the rift, can turn their side.
Beware the sea and man entwined,
May drown beneath the poisoned tide.”

Dean breathed in sharply. ‘Righteous man’. His experience showed that he had that title. He should trademark or something, maybe he’d get some royalties.

Sam was scribbling down the prophecy frantically. Percy looked between the brothers trying to gage their reactions. Dean was stuck on wondering why they always had to deal with these world-ending situations. Like Percy said earlier, is there really no one else?

Dean looked at Percy and finally spoke after minutes of silence. “Sounds like you were looking for me. ‘Righteous man’ seems to be my cursed nickname.” He tried to joke. He didn’t think that ‘righteous man’ combined with ‘fire-forged soul with bloody hands’ and ‘crossroads’ flame’ could apply to many others.

Sam finally looked up. “Do you think it’s one of our witches? Or is it someone from your world?” He looked at Percy.

Percy seemed like he wanted to bolt. Dean could practically feel the tenseness in his shoulders (broad, muscular shoulders) (“shut up”, Dean told his brain). Percy shrugged those shoulders. “Like I said, prophecies can be unclear. There’s a goddess in my pantheon that might fit that description, especially having to do with ‘fate’, but it’s not wise to make assumptions. Anything goes with prophecies.” He chuckled hollowly.

“Well, it looks like you need some alone time with your notebook,” he pointed to Sam. “And I should probably call Leo, so I’m just gonna step outside.” He practically ran from the room, only stopping to grab what looked like a gold coin from his beat-up backpack.

Dean himself was trying to digest the so-called prophecy. After a few minutes of contemplating, he decided to check on Percy since he wasn’t sure how he was making a call if he left his cell phone behind.

He cracked open the motel door (he was not snooping) and peered out to the parking lot where Percy seemed to be talking to a wall of mist. That had a face on it? Intrigued, he opened the door further but flinched when there was a sudden flutter of wings behind him.

“Hello, Dean.” A familiar deep voice intoned behind him.

He turned and was greeting with Castiel’s face inches from him.

“Dude. Personal space. We talked about this.” Dean exclaimed. He gestured for Cas to step back into the room.

Sam had finally looked up from pouring over his notebook like he had found the cure for cancer.

“I assume you have been acquainted with the dark-haired demigod in the parking lot?” Cas questioned. Sam and Dean nodded. “Has he told you yet of the prophecy?” Sam held up his journal. Dean could see that he had already made many notes in the margins.

Dean turned to Cas, “How do you know about the prophecy?”

His voice rumbled, “the oracles of Greeks are not immune to the watchful eyes of the Lord’s prophet. Chuck is not only a conduit for the Lord’s word.” He explained.

Percy chose that moment to make his entrance. “Hey, so Leo’s gonna fly over to give us some weapons—” He stopped short. He took one look at Cas and drew his sword quicker than Dean could comprehend. Wary, Cas’ angel blade dropped from his sleeve.

Realizing he needed to deescalate the situation, he stepped between them.

“Woah, guys. We’re all friendlies here. This is Castiel.” He pointed to Cas, looking at Percy.

Cas still held his blade, but in a defensive position. He looked as if he was approaching a wild animal.

“And you are Perseus Jackson. Slayer of Gaea, defeater of Kronos, survivor of Tartarus—” Percy flinched, “—and champion of the gods. Your reputation precedes you. I am Castiel, angel of the Lord.” Cas nodded at Percy in a sign of respect.

Percy looked uncomfortable at the flattery. “Um—yeah. Nice to meet you, I guess.” He slowly lowered at his sword looking at Dean for reassurance. Dean nodded.

“How do you know who I am?” Percy asked Cas.

“We were not blind to the Titan and Giant wars. We were simply bound by ancient laws. We could not interfere. God and your ‘fates’ made an agreement long ago to guard against any interference. We did our part in ensuring that our worlds remained separate.” Cas explained.

Percy hummed. “So, you’re telling me this whole time there was an army of angels that could have helped an army of teenagers, of kids! And we had to fight and die and suffer to win a fight that you could have at least pitched in on?” Percy shouted, raising his sword again.

“I told you we could not interfere, there are ancient laws—”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about ancient laws! I’ve broken quite a few myself! It sounds to me like you couldn’t be bothered to get off your asses, much like the Olympians, and fucking do something about it!” Percy had been pacing, then stopped and raised his sword to Cas again.

“Boy, you should take care how you speak to me.” Cas threatened.

“I’ll speak to you however the fuck I want to speak to you, angel—”

“Woah there, guys.” Dean interjected. “Let’s just take a second and talk things through. Calmly.” Dean wondered why he was playing peacekeeper and Sam was just sitting there like he was watching a mildly entertaining tennis match.

He glared at Sam.

Sam said, “Dude, your boyfriends are fighting. What do you want me to do about it?”

He was rewarded by glares from everyone else in the room.

Dean cleared his throat. “Okay, so Percy, Cas couldn’t help because his hands were tied and he’s here to help now. Capiche?” Percy looked mildly agreeable, but his sword was still raised. “Cas, Percy here needs our help in figuring out this latest shit show so we gotta work together. Capiche?”

“I capiche.”

“Okay great.” Dean sighed. Not the best introduction as far as introductions go.

“Perce?” Percy turned to him. “Wanna put your sword down?”

Percy slowly lowered his sword, but still looked at Castiel mistrustingly.

“Alright.” Sam declared. “Now we’ve gotten that out of the way, can we talk about what Cas said about the ‘Titan’ and ‘Giant’ wars?”

Percy looked disgruntled. “Yeah, thanks for outing me, angel boy.” He directed at Cas, emphasizing the word ‘boy’.

Cas shrugged.

Percy rolled his eyes and took a seat on the bed closest to the door, gesturing for Sam and Dean to sit down as well.

Dean sat down on the same bed as Percy, close enough that their knees were almost brushing (what? It was his bed). Cas looked between then and then down to his lap with an expression Dean didn’t recognize.

“So, I might’ve brushed over some relevant details.” Percy started, fidgeting. “I’ve just been through a lot of shit and it’s not my favorite thing to rehash all of it, but I’ll give you the rundown.” He glanced at Dean’s hand splayed across the comforter like holding it might give him the courage to continue. Dean didn’t want to think he was reading too much into it, but lightly brushed his fingers against Percy’s knee as an attempt at reassurance. (What? It could have been an accident. It wasn’t his fault they were sitting so close together!) (Yes, it was.)

Percy took a deep breath and started from the beginning. He talked about his time at camp and his first few quests, even though it sounded like a watered-down version that he might give his mom. Dean noticed that he downplayed his own glory and accomplishments at every turn, always emphasizing the impact of others. He spoke of a girl named Annabeth with a tone of reverence, tinged with sorrow. He gave a brief synopsis of a battle against Kronos (Dean really need to read up on Greek mythology, he was really confused by some of the names here), and then explained the next year leading up to some voyage to defeat some earth lady named Gaea. He trailed off at some parts, and Dean did his accidentally brushing of skin thing again, which seemed to give him the courage to continue. He ended his story by mumbling that he took care of Gaea at great personal cost.

Dean did not seem to be alone in processing Percy’s tale for a solid five minutes. He did however take some time to remember that Percy was only a kid when all this went down. Dean remembers feeling how much responsibility he had to shoulder when he was young, and his stomach clenched in sympathy for what Percy had to go through.

Putting a hand hesitantly on Percy’s shoulder, he gently said, “if you need someone to talk to about some of that stuff, I’m here. I’m not the best at talking about feelings and shit, but I’m still here.”

Percy met his eye with relief and some kind of emotional kinship that he couldn’t decipher.

“Thanks, Dean.” He said softly.

“I’m gonna take a walk.” Percy said, standing up and walking quickly to the door.

Dean watched him hastily step outside without a second glance at the room, as if he was afraid of their reactions to his story.

Cas seemed thoughtful as he considered what Percy had told him, even though he seemed to have already known a great deal of it.

Sam seemed to be going through the stages of grief and kept mouthing ‘just a kid’.

Dean decided he should follow Percy outside.

As he slipped out of the motel room, he noticed Percy sitting solemnly at a picnic table on the other side of the parking lot. He made his way over there.

Percy was sitting on the seat anxiously, tapping his leg and seeming lost in his own mind. He didn’t even seem to notice Dean’s approach.

Dean made a point to announce himself before he sat down. He REALLY didn’t want to find out if he was immune to Percy’s sword.

After sitting silently for a few minutes, Dean cleared his throat. “You know, if I were you, I wouldn’t want sympathy or pity.” Percy nodded. “But I also think I kinda get it. Gods and monsters, maybe not the same as yours, have they’ve always been something I had to deal with.” Thinking that Percy might relax if he offered up some information about his own story, he decided to share. “I had a lotta responsibility put on me by my dad. My mom, she—she died when we were young. A demon got her. I had to grow up real fast. Sammy became my responsibility while my dad was off fighting the good fight. And I—I didn’t really get to be a kid. I had to start fighting young too. I know that isn’t the same as you. But I think I also get it.” He reached up and squeezed Percy’s shoulder, trying for something like solidarity.

He continued, “I still don’t know exactly what we’re facing now, but I can tell you’re strong enough to handle it.” He looked up and met Percy’s eyes. Those impossible sea-green eyes. “We can handle it.”

They held eye contact for several long moments.

Percy looked like he wanted to say something else, but instead he pulled a dagger from his thigh holster. Dean didn’t know what he had said to warrant such a reaction but then Percy held it out to him.

“It was Annabeth’s. It’s celestial bronze. She—she was very important to me. She didn’t make it.” He looked down.

“I want you to have it.” Dean looked up at Percy, surprised. He continued, “she would have wanted it to be used by a warrior like you. Like her. I want you to have it.” He repeated.

“Plus, you’d look sexy with a thigh holster.” He added with a smirk.

Dean chuckled and accepted the dagger, fingers brushing against Percy’s.

“Are you sure?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, I am.” And it didn’t sound like he was just talking about the blade.

They shared a tentative smile and Dean noticed how glorious he looked bathed in sunlight.

They could do this. Together.

Chapter Text

When Dean and Percy reentered the motel room, they were greeted by Sam and Castiel talking in low tones. Sam said something about “now you decide to do something about it?” while shaking his head. Dean didn’t catch the rest.

Noticing their arrival, Sam perked up. “There’s been another incident,” he said, tapping his laptop screen. "Couple towns over. Park ranger went missing near a lake. Witnesses say the water started 'acting weird' right before he disappeared."

Dean shot a look at Percy.

Percy raised an eyebrow. "Don’t look at me. I wasn’t there."

Sam clicked through photos. "There’s old local legends — something called a lailaps. Water spirits that drag people under."

Percy stiffened. Dean caught it, the way his knuckles whitened on the counter edge.

"What?" Dean asked sharply.

"Lailaps aren’t supposed to be free," Percy said quietly. "They’re bound creatures. Guardians. If one’s loose... something big let it out."

Dean shoved away from the table. "Then we go sink the bastard."

Percy looked at him, really looked, and for a second, Dean thought he saw something almost like hope in those too-bright eyes.

"Yeah," Percy said, voice low. "We do."

Cas said something about needing to “squash a skirmish in heaven”, took a long, sad look at Dean, and vanished.

Percy said, “he really comes and goes, huh.” While Sam looked sympathetically at where Cas had just vanished.

They decided to set out to this town, Oneonta (which to Dean sounded like another mysterious Greek name), in upstate New York.

Parking on the main street, Dean realized Percy had never played FBI agent. Dean had an extra suit that might fit him but wasn’t sure if Percy knew how to play the role. He had flashbacks to Cas holding his FBI badge upside down and insisting about demons to local PD.

Debating whether he should bring Percy along or just go with Sam and leave Percy to his own devices he decided he should just ask him. Percy just said, “better to be FBI than be on the run from them.” Dean was curious but also knew all too well what that was like.

They checked in at the local motel and decided to change there and then head out to start questioning. Dean gave Percy his spare suit with some extra room in the shoulder area and a blue tie. He regretted it the second Percy walked out of the bathroom. His eyes were only more enchanting with the tie. He looked like what Christian Grey thought he looked like; slightly unbuttoned shirt, tie handing loose around his collar, debauched, sinful messy black hair (Dean was NOT drooling).

“I don’t know how to tie this. Never made it to a middle school dance.” Percy said.

Swallowing his awe, Dean stepped up to help him. “Neither did we, but I still know how to tie a tie.” He muttered. Percy chuckled and seemed to relish in their closeness. Dean made a mistake in breathing in. Percy smelled like the ocean and strawberries and freedom, and he looked so—

“You guys ready?” Sam interrupted Dean’s train of thought.

Dean cleared his throat, but it didn’t help how husky his voice came out. “Yeah.” He stepped away from Percy once he was finished.

Sam gave him a look like implied more than he was willing to think about.

They headed out.

Dean and Percy headed to the police station while Sam went out to talk to the witnesses who made reports. The cops seemed to be as in the dark as they usually were. Dean was having trouble looking at anything other than the skin revealed on Percy’s neck where he had missed the top button.

When they stepped out of the station, Dean stepped in front of Percy, halting him in his tracks. He closed the distance and brought his hands up to close that last button.

Percy looked amused. “Distracted?” He asked innocently.

Dean refused to make eye contact. “Just fixing… It’s unprofessional, and we should look professional even if we aren’t really… professionals.” He finished lamely.

“Uh huh.” Percy replied with that same knowing smirk.

“Whatever. Let’s go find Sam.” Dean walked back toward the Impala.

Sam had texted him for them to meet him Goodyear Lake, which sounded like an omen in itself, so they headed out there.

The lake was glassy and still when they arrived, a perfect mirror of gray clouds and skeletal trees.

Too still.

Dean hated it immediately. Since meeting Percy, he got the feeling that water should be untamed and wild. This feigned peace felt unnatural.

Sam met them at the Impala and briefed them on what he had learned. A woman he had talked to claimed that she saw a demon come up from the lake and grab someone. His body had yet to be recovered.

They geared up in silence. Dean grabbed the usual—salt rounds, silver blades, holy water. He also made sure he had the dagger Percy had given him strapped to his holster (he was NOT hoping the thigh holster looked sexy for Percy).

Dean tried not to watch Percy and how casual he looked doing tricks with his sword like it was an extension of his own arm. Tried not to notice the easy strength in his arms, the way he moved like every inch of him knew how to fight and survive and win with ease.

They spread out along the shoreline, scanning for any signs of disturbance.

Sam called it first. "Over here!"

Dean and Percy sprinted over, boots kicking up pebbles.
Near the reeds, the water was... wrong. It rippled without wind, pulsing in unnatural patterns. Dean leveled his gun.

Percy stepped forward, raising a hand.

The water responded, shivering under his command, and a shape surfaced.

A woman’s face, beautiful and horrifying, eyes like black pits.

The lailaps lunged, a blur of water and teeth.

Dean fired, salt round splashing harmlessly off its form. Sam swore.

Percy moved— faster, sharper— slicing his sword through the creature’s control of the water.

The lake heaved, rising around them.

Dean tried to follow, tried to cover Sam, but the ground gave way under his feet. The creature had grabbed him, dragging at his with clawed hands. Before he knew what had happened, he was dragged into the depths.

He couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear, all he could feel was sharp fingers digging into his abdomen, dragging him under further. He tried to yell to Percy, but all he succeeded in was inhaling lake water.

Suddenly, hands grabbed him. Real hands. Warm, firm, human hands. He was wrenched out of the creature’s grasp and pulled sharply into a warm chest.

He felt himself breach the surface of the waves and he coughed the water out his lungs forcefully. Disoriented, he looked over his shoulder to see himself still being held by Percy.

“Can you swim?” All Dean could do was nod, too caught up with how firm Percy’s chest felt behind him and how being held soothed something in him that he didn’t know how to name.

Percy seemed to struggle to let go as well as he held them above the waves effortlessly.

“I gotta follow her down.” He looked pained. Dean broke their eye contact and nodded.

He laid his hand on Dean’s jaw and turned him to meet his eyes again. “I’ll be okay.” He assured, as if he knew Dean needed to hear it. “Can you make it to shore? I’ll push you.” Dean nodded, not knowing what that entailed, but a moment later he was let go from Percy’s warm embrace and eased to shore by a current.

He looked back to see where Percy had gone but there was no sign of him above the water.

Sam pulled him up on the beach. “What the hell happened?” He was clearly agitated. “You got dragged off so quickly I couldn’t even see what happened! And then Percy lost his shit and the waves exploded and he dove after you!”

Seeming to realize that Dean was still catching up on his oxygen intake, Sam crouched down. “Are you okay? Can you breathe?” Dean wasn’t sure if he was having trouble driving in air because of the near drowning or because of how much he was feeling about being so close to Percy—and then letting him go.

He didn’t have time to continue pondering because the waves erupted once again, and the creature was unceremoniously thrown onto the shore from the water. Percy surfaced a hundred feet from the beach and yelled, “Can you handle this?” Dean gave him a weak thumbs up and went to fumble with the dagger still tethered at his holster.

Percy dove back under the water and Dean rolled over, standing up to stalk over to the beached monster. She looked more human now that she was away from the water. Sam followed his lead and went to grab her wrists to hold her down. Dean kneeled next to her to hold her torso down.

Suddenly, the creature thrashed in their hold. Dean said harshly, “What have you done with those people? Where are they?” She continued writhing.

Suddenly, she stilled and stared directly at Dean. “The righteous man. I see the sea child has already laid claim.” She jerked in their hold once more. “I guess you’ve decided to drown.”

Dean tightened his grip on the bronze dagger in his hand and drove it into her chest, where her heart should be.

She smiled unnervingly and burst into golden dust.

Sam fell forward into the sand from where he had been holding her arms and coughed at the dust cloud.

“That was gross.” Dean commented, trying to show he was unbothered by what the monster had said.

Sam ignored him. He brushed off his hands and stepped to his feet. “What was she talking about? ‘You’ve decided to drown—‘”

Percy burst to the lake’s surface once again, looking dismayed. He trailed up onto the beach, somehow completely dry. Dean looked at him, then down to his sopping wet clothes, then back at him again.

Percy started forward, “Oh, sorry.” He laid his hand on Dean’s chest, and he was completely dry. Dean wasn’t sure if the rush of warmth he felt was from Percy’s touch or some invisible super powerful blow dryer.

Dean suddenly remembered he was angry and shook Percy’s hand off. “What were you doing? You just disappear back into the lake, toss that thing on the shore… you pull me out and then you take off?”

Percy looked confused for a second, then shook his head. “I was trying to see if any of her victims were still alive.” He looked down at his feet. “They weren’t.”

Dean deflated. He had just berated Percy for doing nothing wrong. Ugh, all he did was lash out at people when he no monster to kill or other outlet for his rage. What the fuck was wrong with him? Percy was just trying to save more people. Like he saved him.

He studied Percy. At the stubborn set of his jaw like he could’ve done more. At the way he clenched and unclenched his hand around his sword. At his messy hair that had only worsened in a way that Dean knew was because he ruffled it when he was stressed.

Dean grabbed his upper arm. “Hey, you saved me. You stopped her. The only thing you could have done for those people is stop their number from growing, and you did.” He said softly, gently in a way he had only ever spoken to Sam with.

Percy met his eyes with uncertainty. Dean tightened his grip on his arm. “Let’s just go back to the room before Aquaman here decides to throw anymore lake monsters around.”

Sam, who had backed away during this exchange, mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “God, just kiss already.”

Dean refused to acknowledge that and squeezed Percy’s arm once more before letting go.

He didn’t want to allow himself to think about what it would be like to kiss Percy. Or what is said about him that Sam decided to say that. He decided ignorance was bliss.

He demanded to check Percy for injuries, which he obliged, before dragging him back to the Impala once he was reassured that Percy emerged unscathed. He declared that any sand in the car by any of them was Percy’s fault due to his apparent ‘beach immune powers’ and drove the three of them off back to the motel, refusing to let his mind mull over what was going on between him and Percy.

Once back at the motel, Dean grabbed his duffle and headed straight to the shower, closing the bathroom door harder than necessary. He stood under the faltering water pressure lost deep in thought.

Dean Winchester was many things. A hunter. A survivor. A son. A brother. A mother and a father when he had to be. A caretaker. A world-class avoider of complicated feelings and ‘chick flick’ moments.

But even he had to admit he was being obvious. He barely spoke on the drive back from the lake. Barely looked at Percy, even though the guy was sitting right there, close enough that Dean could almost feel the heat coming off him. Close enough to remember the way Percy’s hands had felt, holding him against his chest, keeping him from drowning. Close enough to remember the fierce look in Percy’s eyes—like Dean was worth saving.

Dean hated how much he yearned for that touch, wanted to lean in instead of pulling away. Dean had rarely ever been held in reverence, touched beyond fleeting encounters and harsh slaps on the back. He didn’t know how to deal with the ache in his chest that longed for such comfort. He didn’t know that he was missing it in the first place.

Dean shoved those thoughts aside and stepped out of the shower. He had to focus on the problem at hand. He couldn’t waste energy on something as selfish as personal growth or whatever realizations he just had. It was time to be the soldier his father had made him, and they had work to do.

Sam was annoyed at his brother. He had dealt with Dean’s emotional stunted behavior his whole life, but this hot-and-cold thing he was doing around Percy was irritating him more than usual.

While Dean hid in the shower and did whatever self-loathing he needed to get out of the way, Sam decided to check in with Percy. He didn’t know the guy super well, but his gut had told him they could trust him since they first met him.

He took a seat on the corner of his designated bed and directed at Percy, “You okay?”

“Yep. Fine.” Percy said flatly as he rummaged through whatever sparse belongings fit in his battered backpack.

Sam could see why he and Dean got along. They were eerily similar when it came to shoving down what was bothering them.

“You know,” Sam said, voice careful, “Dean’s not… great at dealing with people he cares about being in danger. I get the feeling you can understand that based on what you told us earlier.”

Percy paused in his movements.

Sam continued, “he pushes people away when he’s scared. Or doesn’t know what he’s feeling. It’s not about you.”

Percy turned to face him. “I get that. My girl—this friend I used to have was like that too at first. She’d been left behind by everyone who loved her and had a hard time opening up. I get that. I get that it takes time. I know not to push him too hard. I guess I’m just trying to figure out if needs some pushing or if I’m reading into this too much.”

Sam sighed. “I think you’re good for him. Dean cares a lot. Almost too much. I think he needs a little pushing to remind him that people can care about him as much as he does for them.” Sam made eye contact with Percy. “Just… don’t give up on him just yet, okay?”

Percy nodded and went back to rifling through his bag. “Wasn’t planning to.”

Sam pulled out his laptop with a small, hopeful smile.

Dean emerged twenty minutes later, looking marginally less like he wanted to punch a wall.

Percy sat at the table, finishing his last text to Leo.

Dean froze for second, looking at him like he was torn between explaining himself or ignoring his tantrum altogether.

Percy decided to take pity on him and interrupted his internal crisis. “Leo should be here in a few minutes with supplies. He said they would land in the parking lot.”

Sam looked up at that. “He’s flying here? In what, a helicopter?”

Percy smirked. This was an excellent opportunity to see if they could see through the mist. He figured they were somewhat clear-sighted based on the monsters they had dealt with so far, but he wasn’t sure what a flying metal dragon would look like to them.

“Something like that,” he said vaguely.

He heard the beat of wings approaching overhead and made his way outside. Sam and Dean followed with trepidation.

Leo, who on a good day was about as subtle as the Trojan Sea monster, certainly made an entrance with Festus, doing a lap above the parking lot before landing at the edge.

Sam exclaimed from behind him, “Holy shit, is that a dragon?”

Percy started walking toward where Leo and Piper seemed to be arguing while dismounting from Festus’ back.

As he neared the dragon, Leo huffed and seemed to let Piper win whatever they were squabbling about now. “Percy!” They shouted in unison and surrounded him with crushing hugs.

“Hey guys, thanks for coming,” he said, ruffling Leo’s hair. “I see you have a stowaway.” He said gesturing to Piper.

“Well, apparently you’re too cool to visit camp anymore so I decided to take this opportunity to pass on Clarisse’s threats of bodily harm if you don’t IM her soon,” Piper retorted. She then seemed to register the two men approaching cautiously behind him.

“And who are your new friends?” Piper asked, tracing her eyes up and down Sam appreciatively. “Very handsome friends,” she added to Leo and Percy.

Dean was staring at the dragon with his mouth slightly open. Guess they could see through the mist, Percy noted. Dean was cute when he was in awe.

Sam looked between Dean, the dragon, and the two much shorter demigods before him before answering, “I’m Sam Winchester, and that’s my brother Dean. Is that a metal dragon? How does this thing even get off the ground?”

Leo was quick to defend his pride and joy. “That ‘thing’ is Festus, and he can hear you.” Festus made some mechanical sounds that Leo apparently understood as agreement.

“Anyway,” Percy interrupted before Leo started getting technical about his dragon and the aerodynamics of whatever it took to get Festus into the air. “Leo, these are the hunters I was talking about. The ones from the prophecy,” he said meaningfully. “This is Piper,” he said pointing at her, “who apparently decided she had nothing better to do tonight than be Clarisse’s messenger.”

“I missed you too, dipshit.” Some child of love, he thought.

“So, you guys are both demigods?” Dean asked, seeming to have regained the capability of speech.

“Yep, son of Hephaestus and daughter of Aphrodite at your service.” Leo took a short bow. “Heard you needed some of bad boy Leo’s newest toys.” His eyes were gleaming with what Percy hoped wasn’t the promise of spontaneous combustion.

“Right,” Percy said. “Whatcha got for us, bad boy Leo?”

“You’re in for a treat,” he said excitedly, moving around to open a compartment in the dragon’s side. “We got some standard bronze blades if you guys want to use a sword like Percy,” he said, pulling out two xiphos. “I found some notes by some old son of Hephaestus called Samuel Colt in Bunker nine and I’ve been tinkering with some celestial bronze bullets that can kill anything. I haven’t quite figured out all the runes, but these babies can kill most of the baddies.”

“Samuel Colt was a demigod?” Sam exclaimed. “I guess that explains a lot.”

Leo was still pulling out weapons, talking a mile a minute. “I got Lou Ellen to enchant the bullets, so they don’t run out, just don’t fuck up the inscription on the side,” he pointed to the ridge on the chamber of the gun he was holding. “And after someone pointed out that not everyone has super sick fire powers like me,” he glanced at Percy, “I present to you a Greek fire flame-thrower!”

Dean said, “Awesome” a little too enthusiastically for Percy’s liking and he made a mental note to supervise any experimentation with weapons that shoot eternal fire.

Leo started handing the weapons to Sam, rambling about pressure mechanisms and an accident involving someone’s hair on fire that he was insisting wasn’t his fault.

Once the weapons were distributed, Piper pulled Percy aside as Dean and Sam were investigating their new handguns and Leo talked their ears off.

“So, what’s up with you and Mr. green eyes over there?” She smirked suggestively.

Percy sighed. “I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

“I’m picking up some sexual tension between you and closeted tall, dark, and handsome. Are you into him?” Piper raised her eyebrow at Percy.

Percy sighed again and Piper seemed to sense his hesitation. “It’s messy, especially with the prophecy. I don’t know if it’s a good idea, even if he actually likes me too. Plus, there was that stuff about drowning and I think I’ve already freaked him out a bit with my powers.”

“I’m guessing he’s the ‘righteous man’?” Percy nodded. Piper hummed, “you know as well as I do that prophecies rarely mean what you think they mean. Maybe you can test the waters,” Percy met her gaze, unamused by the pun, “and there might be a great connection there. Don’t shut it down just yet.”

“Thanks, Piper. And I did miss you too, it’s just going back to camp… it’s hard without them.”

“I know. I miss them too. You know we’ll always be here for you though. And seriously, please call me if you want to talk about you and freckles over there. I wouldn’t getting to know more about the taller one either.” She winked.

Percy rolled his eyes and pulled her in for a hug. “Will do.”

“I should probably go get Leo away from them before he decides to do a weapons demonstration in the parking lot.” Piper pulled away from the hug and they walked over to where it looked like Leo was about to do exactly that.

“—And you gotta try out the Greek fire setting, it even works underwater—”

“OKAY, that’s enough Leo, we should get going.” Piper started pulling Leo back to Festus.

“Thanks for this stuff, man. You really came through.” Percy went to give Leo a hug.

“Anything for you, Aquaman. Let me know how it goes. You can message me anytime.” Leo stepped away and hoisted himself up on the dragon after Piper.

“I know. Thanks for everything. I’ll text you later.” Percy waved and stepped away as Festus began to beat his wings.

“Go kick some ass!” Leo called from the air.

“IM Clarisse!” Piper added.

“Bye!”

Percy snorted and turned back to the Winchesters, now laden with weaponry.

“Well, that was interesting.” Dean remarked.

“I still wanna know how that dragon works.” Sam muttered.

They started walking to the Impala to put their new toys in the trunk.

“I’m starving, let’s get some grub.” Dean groaned. Percy agreed vehemently.

He had to think about what Piper had said, but mostly he was just glad to see Dean’s smile return. He didn’t hesitate to call shotgun and settled comfortably in the passenger seat.
He felt content next to Dean, like it was where he was meant to be. They would figure out the rest. Percy was in no rush.

He caught Dean’s eye as they drove, the wind blowing through the open windows. He smiled. Dean returned it with a wink.

Yeah, they’re gonna be just fine.

Chapter Text

They brought pizza back to the room. Percy had insisted on getting three large meat-lovers, which Dean could get on board with, but wasn’t sure where he was going to put all of that. Percy was all lean muscle and chiseled cheekbones. Dean had already had the pleasure of seeing his eight-pack and muscular chest. Maybe he needed the protein…?

Both Dean and Sam watched in astonishment, Sam more like horror, as Percy polished off two entire pizzas with nonchalance.

To Dean’s questioning look Percy explained, “Demigods need a lot of calories. Gotta eat when we’re not being chased by monsters.” Dean could admit he was impressed.

Sam seemed to think better of making a comment and turned his laptop screen around. “I found another lead. Weird weather patterns just south of here. Heavy storms, rumbling in the ground, no meteorological explanation. Reports of locals being swallowed up by the earth.”

Percy straightened immediately, tense, and sharp.

“Swallowed by the earth?” He looked ready to jump up and start stabbing the ground beneath them. He stood up pacing and muttering to himself, “I killed her, scattered her, this can’t be happening again…”

Dean, alarmed at this sudden reaction thought it best to start damage control.

“Perce?” He asked. Percy appeared not to have heard him, lost in his swirling panic.

He stood up and grabbed Percy’s shoulder, “Percy?”

Percy tensed before meeting Dean’s eyes and dropping his shoulders defeatedly.

He was fidgeting with his hands but had stopped pacing at least. Dean realized after a moment of silence that his hand was still on Percy’s shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. He dropped his hand. Percy seemed to miss the contact.

“The earth—“, Percy began hesitantly, “We fought her, Gaea, in the Giant War. Ancient pissed off primordial. I killed her. She should be dead. People shouldn’t be being swallowed up again—” He cut off with the choking sound of breath being forced out in panic.

Dean cautiously reach out with his right hand again, squeezing Percy’s upper arm. Percy’s breathing was starting to increase rapidly. Dean needed to give him something else to focus on to stop his hyperventilating.

Slowly, Dean lifted his left thumb and forefinger to Percy’s jaw, forcing him to meet his gaze. He could practically feel the guilt radiating from the man, the constant weight of wondering if your actions had caused more tragedy. If your failures had led to someone else’s demise. He felt it himself constantly.

“Hey. It’s okay, just breathe.” He demonstrated by breathing exaggeratedly, and slowly Percy started to mimic him.

“I’m sure you stopped this primordial bitch lady. It’s probably some other being wanting their fifteen minutes of fame.” He said gently, but firmly. “We’ll figure out why this quicksand wannabe wanted attention so bad they couldn’t go on reality TV like everyone else.”

Percy let out a breathy chuckle and Dean knew he had gotten through to him. He still had his hand on Percy’s face and could feel the spiky growth of day-old stubble under his fingertips.

Green eyes stared into green eyes. Dean tried to convey all the reassurance he was capable of when suddenly Sam coughed to the side of them. Dean startled; he had forgotten they weren’t alone.

“There’s a lot of deities that have power over the earth, according to the lore.” Sam interjected.

Dean dropped his hands from Percy and knew he was blushing furiously.

“Okay,” Dean winced at how rough his voice sounded. “Well, we should check it out before we make any conclusions.” He glanced back at Percy and felt relief that he seemed to have come out of whatever hole he was spiraling into.

“Let’s hit the road in the morning. And no solo heroics this time.” He pointed at Percy.

Percy seemed to have regained some of his snark and replied, “No promises.”

Dean ignored the way his heart jumped at Percy’s smirk.

The storm hit harder than they expected. It seemed to exist in a bubble; as they approached the seaside town, they were inundated by heavy rain coming down in sheets, wind howling like a living thing.

Dean cursed, barely keeping the Impala steady as the crept down flooded streets.

“Not natural,” Percy said, leaning forward from the backseat, peering out the windshield. “There’s something causing this storm.”

As if summoned by his words, the downpour seemed to coalescence into a shadowy figure about a hundred feet in front of them, standing in the middle of the street.

Dean slammed on the brakes and the car skidded to a stop. He fumbled for his new gun, patting his thigh to ensure he still had the dagger Percy had given him. Sam was checking the chamber of his gun, flicking the safety off.

Percy had already shoved the door open, sword appearing in his hand.

“Wait!” Dean shouted, but Percy was already moving, striding into the storm like he belonged in it. Dean cursed and scrambled after him, flinging his own door open.

The figure turned as they approached—a woman, impossibly tall, hair whipping around her face like kelp underwater. Her skin shimmered with scales; her eyes glowed an eerie silver.

She smiled—a creepy, twisted expression showing her pointed teeth.

“Ah, my famed demigod brother,” she hissed. Dean heard her voice clearly despite the raging wind and rain. It seemed to reverberate through the storm.

“Brother, huh? I gotta say, I’ve met a lot of dad’s kids and most of them sucked. What can I say, family reunions aren’t my forte. At some point dad’s gotta learn to keep it in his pants.” Percy raised his sword in challenge. “You should know, I specialize in fratricide.”

The woman bared her teeth and lunged.

Dean fired, but the bullet passed through the air as she disappeared into mist.

She reappeared a couple feet closer and raised her arms, closing her hands into fists. Sam shouted a warning from behind them, but it was too late. The ground split open beneath Dean and Percy and they dropped into darkness.

Dean felt himself falling, falling, arms wildly searching for purchase to stop his descent. He felt an arm wrap around his torso and heard Percy yell.

Percy struck his sword into a rocky wall to slow their fall, and they finally crashed to the bottom. Dean landed partially on top of Percy who seemed to have cushioned his landing. He rolled off him and Percy grunted.

His eyes snapped down in horror to see the blood seeping through Percy’s shirt from the left side of his abdomen. There was a stalagmite (stalactite? Whatever) protruding through his stomach.

Percy groaned and coughed, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

“Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit.” Dean scrambled to support him as he attempted to roll off the rocky dagger. Once free, Dean pressed his hands, scraped and bloody from the walls of the cavern as they were falling, to the wound to apply pressure.

“You idiot! Why did you do that?”

Percy grinned, teeth bloody, but it looked more like a grimace. “Better me than you.”

“Son of a bitch! Fuck!” He grabbed Percy’s hands and moved them to his wound, barking at him to apply pressure. He ripped off his jacket, then his flannel. He tore pieces of his flannel into strips and bunched up the fabric to where the blood flow wasn’t slowing down. Tying the makeshift bandage in place with the remaining strips.

He kept pressing on the wound, eyes flickering around through the dark cavern they had landed in, barely illuminated by the crack above them. They had fallen about forty feet in what looked like a tunnel carved by the sea. The ground was rocky and slick with seawater, the air damp and earthy.

He heard Sam scream from above. “Dean! DEAN!”

“Sammy! We’re down here!” He couldn’t see Sam but could imagine his face twisted up as he let out a string of curses.

“Shit! I’m gonna look for some rope or something to get you guys out.”

“Is that scaly bitch still there?” Dean called up.

“Nah, she vanished with the storm. How far down are you?”

“About forty feet. Percy’s hurt so hurry Sam!” He yelled back. “And be careful!”

“Will do!”

Dean swallowed hard and returned his gaze to Percy. “You’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna get you out of here. It’s all gonna be fine.”

Percy grunted and started to sit up. “It’s no big deal. I’ve had worse.”

Dean hated that he didn’t doubt that was true.

“Alright,” Percy said, pushing into a seated position with a wince. “We find an exit, we get back topside, we kill my latest pain in the ass of a sibling. At least it’s not grandma dirt face.”

Dean shook his head, smiling a little despite himself. “You make it sound easy.”

Percy grinned, blood on his teeth. “Fake it till you make it.”

Dean’s chest ached. He moved his hands from the wound where the bleeding had slowed down considerably. He checked the knots on his mangled flannel to make sure the bandage would hold.

“Do you think you can move?” Percy sucked air through his teeth as he shifted, trying to stand up. Dean rushed to support him, moving his arm to hold him up on his good side. He was practically holding Percy up, but he seemed hesitant to put his full weight on Dean.

He turned his head to look at Percy’s face and their eyes locked. “I got you,” Dean murmured. Their faces were inches apart. They were close enough that Dean could see how Percy’s eyes seemed to swirl with colors like the sea itself. Dean should pull away. He should say something sarcastic and stupid and safe.

Instead, he whispered, “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

Percy blinked and then smiled softly.

They were even closer now, so close that Dean could feel Percy’s racing heartbeat against his own. He wondered if Percy could feel his own thundering pulse.

It would be so easy to just close the space between them, Dean started to slowly close his eyes—

The tunnel suddenly shook, sending a spray of stones from the ceiling.

They pulled back, both breathing hard, moment shattered.

Dean cursed, turning to scan the tunnel for a way out. He noticed that the small streams of water scattered throughout the cavern seemed to be flowing in the direction of a dark opening in the rock.

The tunnel walls groaned ominously as another tremor shook the ground. Dean shoved Percy backward, shielding him instinctively as chunks of stone rained down from the ceiling.

“We gotta move!” Dean barked, tightening his grip supporting Percy, hauling toward the narrow passageway.

Percy stumbled, blood loss making him sluggish, but caught himself with a snarl of frustration.

Water was seeping through the cracks now, a slow hungry tide licking at their boots. Dean’s gut twisted. Wasn’t there something about him drowning? They needed to get out. Now.

The tunnel twisted into a choke point ahead, barely wide enough for one person. Water was rushing through it in a frothing current, too fast and deep to cross easily.

Dean cursed, chest heaving. “No way through,” he muttered.

Percy pressed a hand to the wall, frowning. “I can hold the water back,” he said, already flexing his fingers. “For a little while.”

Dean shook his head immediately. “No. No way. You’re already bleeding out. You’re not doing a damn thing solo.”

Percy looked at him sharply—somewhere between defiance and something softer. Something that said he knew how much Dean cared. Dean hated it.

“Dean,” Percy said seriously, “I can do this. Trust me.”

Dean’s hand not holding onto Percy curled into a fist at his side. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust him. It was that he trusted him too much. Trusted him to give everything, even his life, if it meant saving someone else.

Dean couldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t let Percy sacrifice himself to save him. Dean wasn’t worth Percy’s life.

Dean stepped closer, crowding Percy back against the damp tunnel wall. Percy’s eyes widened but he didn’t back away.

“Listen to me,” Dean growled, voice low and rough. “You don’t get to throw yourself away. Not for me. Not for anyone.”

Percy swallowed hard, throat bobbing. “I’m not throwing myself away,” Percy said hoarsely. “I’m choosing to fight. Isn’t that what you do?”

Dean shook his head. His heart was hammering so hard he could barely think. “You don’t get it,” Dean whispered. “You’re not supposed to be the one who dies. You’re supposed to—”

He cut himself off, breathing hard. Percy tilted his head, so close now that Dean could feel the heat of him.

“Supposed to what?” Percy asked softly.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut for half a second.

Then, without thinking, without allowing himself to think, he grabbed Percy’s jacket, hauled him forward, and kissed him.

The kiss was desperate and messy and held everything Dean couldn’t say out loud. Percy gasped against his mouth, startled, but then he was kissing back, fists curling into Dean’s shirt, anchoring him.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was all want and need. It was raw, clumsy, too much and not enough.

Dean kissed like he was drowning. Percy kissed like he was saving him.

For a long, shuddering moment, there was nothing but heat and shared breath and the storm inside them both breaking open.

When the finally pulled apart, gasping, Percy rested his forehead against Dean’s, eyes squeezed shut.

“About damn time. Been wanting to do that since we met,” Percy whispered, laughing a little breathlessly.

Dean barked out a rough laugh of his own, something painful and relieved cracking in his chest.

And then, because fate had TERRIBLE timing, the tunnel shuddered again, and a wave of seawater exploded down the passage toward them.

Dean yanked Percy out of the way just as it crashed through, smashing into the walls.

“Go!” Dean shouted, shoving Percy toward the narrow choke point.

Percy gritted his teeth and raised both hands. The water slammed against an invisible barrier, spraying up and out in sheets. Dean stumbled forward, pushing Percy ahead of him through the gap.

They half-fell into a wider chamber, the walls pulsing with ancient runes, the ceiling arching high above them. And in the center, a figure waited. It wasn’t the woman from before, this one was worse. Twice human height, armored in blackened bronze, eyes glowing bluish white like fire.

She smiled cruelly. “Demigod. Hunter. You are too late.” She twisted her fingers, purple magic wisping between them.

“Hecate,” Percy stated, staring straight at the figure.

“We meet again, little sea spawn. I hope Despoina had fun leading you here. She does truly enjoy tormenting her half-siblings.” Hecate said casually.

“Why are you doing this?” Percy asked. “You sided with the gods in the last war.”

“I have my reasons,” she snapped, “you won’t be alive long enough to hear them.”

Dean leveled his gun. Percy raised his sword.

“You think you can fight me?” She laughed. “I have bested many before you—"

Dean cut in, “Can we skip the villain monologue, lady? It’s been a long day, and jeans start to chafe when they’re wet.”

She growled. “Oh, you’ll not be dealing with me today. I have someone else who wants to be reacquainted with the titan-killer.”

She smiled evilly and gestured to a massive door behind her that was rumbling in anticipation.

Percy and Dean glanced at each other. Percy set his jaw in determination. Just then, Dean noticed that small streams of water had been pulled from the ground and had been snaking up Percy and around his wound. Dean decided they could do this. He nodded at Percy.

“Bring it on, lady! We don’t got all day!” Dean taunted.

“Suit yourself,” she said and promptly disappeared in a shower of mist.

The doors shot open, and something huge stepped out.

Chapter Text

Sam thought he was handling the situation pretty well given the circumstances. Watching your brother and your new friend be swallowed into a giant crack in the middle of main street is not an experience he would rate very highly.

He had jumped backwards when the rift had opened once he realized he couldn’t prevent Dean from falling in. The being was standing on the edge of the chasm peering down, looking pleased with her work. She smiled in satisfaction and raised her head to stare him down. He was frozen for a second, unsure if he should make a run for it or try shooting her. Judging from Dean’s success, or lack thereof, he didn’t think she would be polite enough to not poof away while he took a shot.

She saved him from deciding by winking at him and vanishing. Once she was gone, the storm cleared into partially cloudy skies like there hadn’t just been a category 4 hurricane in New England.

He rushed forward to the gap, minding the edge to avoid any risk of falling in himself.

Panicking, he called for his brother. “Dean! DEAN!”

“Sammy! We’re down here!” Sam exhaled loudly in relief.

“Fucking hell, Dean! What were you thinking rushing in like that! Percy, you fucking idiot for antagonizing the scary woman, half-sibling, whatever! Fuck! Shit! I’m gonna look for some rope or something to get you guys out.”

“Is that scaly bitch still there?” He heard Dean shout. He sounded far down. How far had they fallen? And how the hell was he going to get them out? He couldn’t even see them at the bottom. Maybe Bobby had a crane or something, the old guy always had access to crazy shit like that.

“Nah, she vanished with the storm. How far down are you?”

“About forty feet. Percy’s hurt so hurry Sam!” Shit, he should really call Bobby. Probably should have called him when they first ran into this Greek mess.

“And be careful!” Sam rolled his eyes. Only his brother would be more worried about him in danger when he was stuck forty feet in the ground by some powerful god lady.

“Will do!” He called back. He stood up from where he had been crouched by the edge and rolled his shoulders back. First things first, he needed to call Bobby. He was probably going to get his ass chewed out and be called an ‘idjit’ at least a dozen times but Bobby would know what to do. He always came through.

Bobby picked up on the third ring. “Sam? What’s going on?”

“Hey Bobby, we have a situation.”

“A situation? What have you damn idjits gotten yourselves into now?”

“It’s better if we can meet in person. Are you close to Woodmont, Connecticut by any chance?”

“Funny you should mention that. I’m in Danbury checking out some omens an old hunting buddy asked me to look into. Lotta storms goin’ on around these parts. You need me to come there? Should be about an hour.”

“Yeah. This is more of a seeing is believing type of situation.”

“Alright, I’ll be there in a bit. Anywhere specific I should go?”

“You’ll know when you get here. Thanks Bobby.”

One more ‘idgit’ later, Bobby hung up the phone. Sam felt better knowing that Bobby was coming. He felt a little guilty for dragging him into this mess, but Bobby knew more lore than anyone. He should’ve been their first call when they ran into Percy.

In the meantime, he made his way to the local hardware store. He probably should’ve noticed sooner, but there didn’t seem to be anyone else in town. Probably all evacuated due to the storm and the earthquakes. Picking the lock, he set about starting to make some kind of pulley with rope to get Dean and Percy out. Dean said Percy was hurt, so he thought he should include some kind of harness.

He brought the supplies back out to the street so he could call down to check on Dean again while he worked.

After shouting down the pit again and getting no response for half an hour, Sam started panicking. He put his anxious energy to work on the pulley mechanism.

He could’ve cried from relief when he noticed Bobby’s old Chevelle pull up next to the Impala.

Bobby stepped out and cautiously walked over to the gaping hole in the ground. “Guess this IS more of a seeing is believing situation.” Taking note of the ropes and gadgets in Sam’s hands, he said, “I’m guessing your fool brother is down there somewhere?”

Sam breathed out, “Yeah.”

“You wanna start from the beginning?”

Sam nodded and began recounting the last few days, leaving out Percy’s apparent powers over blood, but including the prophecy and whatever connection was going on between Dean and Percy. He told him about Percy being a Greek demigod and the limited information he had given them about the gods and his past.

To his surprise, Bobby didn’t seem overly shocked at this news. “I’ve run into some stragglers from Camp Half-Blood a few times over the years,” he explained. “Most of ‘em get killed off by monsters before they hit double digits. I keep a healthy stock of celestial bronze in case I run into one of them.”

“And you didn’t think we needed to know about this?”

Bobby took in Sam’s shocked expression and continued, “I know they’ve had their fair share of trouble over the years, and I figured you boys had enough apocalypses to deal with already. ‘Sides, they mostly keep their stuff separate from the rest of us. They got different monsters and different problems. Figured I was doin’ you a favor by not getting you messed up in all of that.”

“Um, okay.” Sam figured he did have a point there. “Still would’ve been nice to have a heads up, but I guess I get it.”

“So, how’d Dean and this Percy kid end up spelunking?”

Sam explained the storm and woman causing the earth to split. “I haven’t heard from them for the past forty-five minutes or so,” Sam said, trying to keep the alarm out of his voice.

“Well let’s not panic just yet. We’re near the water. I bet there’s all types of caves and such around here. You said Percy’s the son of Poseidon?” Sam nodded. “Well, I’d wager that they’d follow any water source if they had a way out of where they fell. How about we take a look down by the shore to see if there’s anywhere they might’ve popped out.” Sam nodded again in agreement. Calling Bobby had been the right choice.

&&

Percy wasn’t sure what tricks Hecate had up her sleeve, but the figure that emerged from the cave doors was one of the last he had been expecting. The massive doors shuddered open and a ten-foot tall being clad in silver armor emerged. He had wild silver hair that had always reminded Percy of Einstein, and pure silver eyes. He was more than a little confused when those silver eyes lasered in on him as he took in the room.

“Bob?” Percy asked, bewildered.

“Bob? This thing’s name is Bob. Are you serious?” Dean gaped at Percy.

“Who is Bob?” Bob’s voice thundered out. He looked just as perplexed as Dean. A deadly titan asking a hunter what his name was hilarious to Percy, especially when he remembered Bob’s childlike innocence when his memories were wiped.

He tried and failed to stifle his laughter. Dean glared at him. “Right, not the time.”

Bob seemed offended that they had stolen the thunder of what might have otherwise been a fearsome entrance but tried to recover. “I am Iapetus, titan of the West. You should fear my name!” Unfortunately for Bob, his last declaration sounded more like a question.

Clearly something else had been done to wipe Bob’s mind. That, or he had forgotten how he helped Percy if he had reformed. Either way, they were not on the same page.

Percy tried the diplomatic approach. “C’mon buddy, we’re old friends! We helped each other out!” Percy tried not to wince at how that help had turned out for Bob in the end. “We met in the Underworld. You helped Annabeth and I through Tartar—um, to get to the doors of death?” He said, hoping to jar his memory. “You’re Bob, the good titan!”

Bob had placed his giant silver sword on his shoulder and appeared to be deep in thought as he slowly mouthed the name ‘Annabeth’. Dean kept glancing nervously at Percy waiting for the cue to open fire.

“You remember small Bob, right? And you led us to Damasen!” Percy tried again. “C’mom Bob, try to remember.”

“MY NAME IS IAPETUS!” He roared, looking more like he was trying to convince himself than them. “No matter. I will destroy you for what you did to Hyperion. He still has not reformed.” He readied his massive sword and Percy swore.

Percy turned to make sure Dean was ready to face this confused and pissed of titan and was reminded of their kiss. Their glorious, everything-he-had-expected-and-more kiss. He would protect Dean until his last breath. Bob—Iapetus, whatever-- would not be laying a finger on him.

He raised his sword, thankful that the water had patched up his left side enough that wasn’t going to this fight severely injured. “You don’t remember? That’s fine. We’ll do it your way.”

Dean took that as his cue to take a shot at Bob, but Bob was fast for a creature so big. He took more shots, but they merely ricocheted off his metal armor. Percy did NOT want to go out from a stray bullet, so he called Dean off. “Looks like we gotta do this the old-fashioned way,” he said, gesturing to his sword. Dean looked put out but pulled the dagger out anyway.

Percy ducked a swing of Bob’s enormous sword, rolling to his feet, blood dripping from where he had reopened his side wound.

Dean must have noticed Percy bleeding again because he started trying to catch Bob’s attention—yelling, taunting, making himself a menace. Percy panicked. He jumped between Bob and Dean and traded blows with him. Blocking his sword was like defending against a battering ram, but Percy was not called the greatest swordsman of a generation for nothing.

The fighting was getting too close to Dean for Percy’s comfort. He needed to end this, fast. Bob seemed to pick up on his intention to keep him away from Dean and began backing him up toward him. Percy used Luke’s old disarming move and ridded Bob of his sword, but Bob pulled out a second weapon, lunging at Dean, and Percy lost it.

Percy yelled, reaching out for Iapetus’s ichor (fuck it, this was no longer Bob) and held on as tight as he could. He was already weak from blood loss and Iapetus was huge, so it was like trying to chain a hurricane. Lucky for Percy, he could manage hurricanes pretty well. He let out a second yell and the water erupted around them. He directed the swirling currents to cage Iapetus while he got a better handle on him.

He felt like he was pushing against a barrier. The tugging in his gut was getting increasingly painful and he felt like something was keeping from his full potential; forcing him to fight with one hand tied behind his back. He felt that fragile crystal ball in his stomach that he had felt when he first used this power against Akhlys crack a little more. He pushed harder against the barrier and felt a wave of power emanate from him. The runes on the wall flared to life, searing gold and silver.

Dean had been pushed back against the wall by whatever Percy had just done, but Percy refused to meet his eyes. He was too scared to see what Dean thought of this display.

Percy looked up to Iapetus’ face, his body now completely frozen, his limbs bound by seawater that held him in chains. He could see fear in his wide silver eyes. He felt a twinge of remorse that he had done this to his friend. But this wasn’t Bob. Maybe one day he could find his Bob again, but he had a job to do right now.

“Better luck next time.” He clenched his fists even tighter, and Bob exploded into dust, dissipating into the water that was holding him, his terrified expression seared into Percy’s mind.

Percy collapsed. He knew he had used too much power. That combined with his previous injury did not bode well for his ability to keep standing. He blearily caught a glimpse of Dean rushing toward him, then promptly passed out.

&&

Dean had felt like a high school football player sitting on the bench watching his teammate win the Superbowl. Percy and Bob (Bob was easier to pronounce) had clashed swords almost quicker than he could see, and Percy could hold his own and then some. He was caught between awe and fear as demigod and titan fought, and then felt himself go completely still when Percy grabbed ahold of Bob. He had seen Percy control blood with his own eyes, but to control a creature as big as this one? He didn’t know how to react.

Percy had seemed to make a decision, and a wave of tangible power swept the room, almost knocking Dean over. He could almost taste it in the air; something he had only ever felt from Cas or other angels.

Percy had then poofed the titan, then fell over. Dean was not proud of his moment of hesitation before he ran over to him. Percy appeared to have passed out, which was not a surprise for the amount of energy he must have just exerted.

Dean caught a glance at the blood pooling from his abdomen and chided himself for momentarily forgetting that Percy had already been severely injured. He certainly had fought as though he was at peak condition.

He sat next to Percy and pulled him partially into his lap. He placed Percy’s head on his knee while he uncurled his hand from where he was protectively holding his injured side. He peeled up the flannel-bandage and saw the pierced skin, already riddled with scars, was red, irritated, and bleeding despite whatever makeshift healing Percy had attempted.

He needed to get them out of there to get some real medical attention. Or whatever they could do with a needle and some dental floss, as Percy had previously joked about. He did note curiously that Percy’s clothes and skin were miraculously dry despite the water show. Dean could not say the same.

He scanned the mysterious cave they were in, looking for an exit. There seemed to be a path to the shore around a bend on the other side of the rocky room, at least he assumed from the sound of crashing waves from that direction.

He secured the flannel around Percy’s wound as best as he could and placed his hand, still covered in now-dry blood, gently on the side of Percy’s exhausted face. He stroked his cheekbone softly with his calloused thumb and sighed.

Dean had shut off a side of him for so long; ever since his dad sent him to that case with those lesbian nuns. He had ignored people or things that he desired to placate his father, or the ghost of his father. He saw himself in Percy. But it was more than that. He liked Percy, craved his touch, wanted to feel those lips on his again. The question was if he could let go of his own shit to let himself truly be free to do what he wanted. Dean never did what he wanted, but for once, he thinks he deserves to try.

The ground rumbled again, and Dean decided to have a crisis about his sexuality later. He stroked Percy’s cheek one more time before gently setting him down and standing up. He leant down to pick Percy up and steeled himself for the pressure he was about to put on knees that had seen better days. He was heavier than he looked, and he looked heavy. He grunted and shifted the man into a better position before making his way to where he could hear the ocean.

Blinking at the harsh sunlight as he reached the shore, he took a moment to appreciate the feel of having Percy so close to him. To feel his warmth and the reassurance that came with that he was alive. They were both okay. They made it out.

He trudged over to a large rock jutting out from the sand and gently laid Percy against it, propping his torso up.

He reached into his pocket to see if his phone had service yet when he heard someone call his name.

“Dean! Is that you?” He heard his giant of a brother before he saw him jogging over to him. Hmm, maybe he should rethink calling Sam a giant after seeing that monstrosity in the cave.

“Yeah, Sammy,” he called back, tiredly. Percy was really heavy.

“Holy shit, what happened to you guys?” Sam asked as he approached.

“Well, when we fell, Percy broke my fall and impaled himself, the bastard. Then this witch showed up, Hecarr or something, and she left us to deal with this monster. Turns out Percy already knew the monster, which is debatable, and he was like twelve feet and fucking huge. Then Percy fought the monster and made him—um, he killed him and passed out. Now we’re here.”

“He was more like ten feet tall. And I did know him.” Percy spoke up, eyes still closed. “And I’d rather me get impaled than you, you don’t have magic water healing powers. Plus you’re cuter.”

“Still a bastard,” Dean complained, disgruntled.

Sam seemed baffled and amused at the same time.

Dean shuffled over to where Percy still leaned on the rock. “Speaking of magic water healing powers, should we do something about this gaping hole you’ve still got in your body?”

He immediately realized that was the wrong thing to say when Percy winked and said, “It’s not gaping, but what would you know?” Dean could feel himself blushing furiously. You could probably fry an entire pack of bacon on his face right now, his skin was so hot.

He cleared his throat and stammered, “That’s not what I—I just mean, uh—dude you’re still bleeding!”

Thankfully, Percy took mercy on him. “Just throw me in the ocean. Sea water works best. Also, I don’t think I can move just yet.”

Bobby appeared out of the corner of his eye and all hopes that this exchange would be forgotten went fully out the window when Bobby said, “Can you idjits quit flirting and stop the boy from bleeding out already! Lord knows I don’t want any more details than Sam here does.”

Dean pointedly ignored that statement and everything else that had just transpired and moved to wrap an arm around Percy. He went to his injured side and made sure to place his hands so that he wouldn’t aggravate his injury (not gaping hole! Jesus). He gestured for Sam to get his other side. They picked up Percy and carried him the short walk to the water. After Percy’s assurances that they could just ‘throw him in’ they waded in deep enough to set him in the water and watched him sink to the bottom.

Dean figured he would be a minute, so they walked back to where Bobby had perched himself on the rock.

“So, you boys finally got your heads out your asses long enough to give me a call?” Bobby started.

Dean sighed. They probably should have called Bobby first thing. At least it seemed like Sam had been smart enough to do it.

“I’m guessing Sam gave you the rundown?” Bobby grunted.

“Figures your fool asses would’ve stumbled into the Greek world some time or later. Lord knows I’ve run across enough emposai tracking vampires. Honestly surprised it took this long.”

“You knew about all this?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, came across a few demigods fighting their way to camp over the years. At least the Greek monsters leave humans alone for the most part. It’s a shame they try to snack on eight-year-olds though.” Bobby rubbed his beard. “Sounds like Percy here is in a real mess. A prophecy on top of that and it’s looking like you boys are in for the long haul.” He said, pointedly looking at Dean.

“Look, I don’t know everything about the Greek and Roman world, but I know enough. This is some heavy shit you boys have stepped in, and you’re gonna need all the help you can get.” Bobby turned to Sam. “Can you make sure the son of the sea doesn’t drown? I need to talk to your brother here.”

Sam nodded and went to plop his long legs down close to the water.

Dean prepared himself for a scathing conversation about how men shouldn’t like men from his real father figure.

“Look, Dean.” Bobby started out. Dean was tense all over. He wasn’t sure he could handle whatever Bobby was about to dish out. “I know how your daddy was. And I’ve seen the way you look at certain people. You gotta do what’s best for you. And from Sam it sounds like that boy is good for you. I know it’ll probably be hard for you to accept that for yourself, but I think it might be time for you to live a little freer.” Dean was frozen. Less tense, but still unsure.

“Boy, you have spent your whole life doin’ what your daddy taught you. Maybe it’s time to be who you want rather than who you think you’re s’posed to be.” Bobby finished with a pat on his shoulder. He got up, dusting the sand off his cargo pants, and made his way over to Sam.

Dean stayed where he was standing.

Dean had spent a life being what he was supposed to be. That was the truth, wasn’t it. He had been caught once by his father sitting too close to a boy from school and had learned the hard way that boys weren’t supposed to be with other boys. Sure, he liked women. Had loved women at some points. But he also liked men, even if he couldn’t often admit it to himself.

He turned his thoughts to Percy. He liked Percy. A lot. He liked the way the light caught his sea-green eyes and made them twinkle. He was fascinated by his strength and his ability to persevere through what had sounded like a rough upbringing, to put it lightly. He found Percy funny and thought his brand of sarcasm was endearing. He was drawn in by Percy’s good looks and formidable stature. He saw himself in Percy. He felt a kindred soul in Percy. He wanted to know him in and out and discover what existed below his brazen exterior. He wanted to feel his lips again and touch those muscles and figure out what made Percy shake with pleasure. He wanted. He wanted to want.

Dean didn’t know what troubles tomorrow might bring, but as he gazed out at the ocean, at Percy’s domain, he knew he wanted to want. He wanted better for himself. He wanted to feel free to pursue his desires. He wanted to protect his family, chosen or blood, from what was coming to them. And he wanted Percy. In whatever way that entailed.

Chapter Text

After Bobby left Dean to figure out the mess in his mind, Dean sat against the seaside boulder and listened to the crashing waves as he sorted himself out. Bobby was talking to Sam a bit further down the shore, and they seemed to be discussing possible plans for what’s coming next.

An hour or so had passed before Percy trudged up onto the beach looking marginally healthier. At least he didn’t seem to be suffering major blood loss anymore. As soon as he saw his mop of black hair breach the waves, Dean rushed to his feet and approached the water.

Despite seeming healed of his wound, Percy looked like he had gone ten rounds with a sumo wrestler and could pass out at any moment. Dean closed the few feet left between them and slid his arm around Percy to support him. He was so exhausted he could barely lift his head to acknowledge his thanks.

Dean declared that they could all use some rest and to meet up at a motel outside of town. The trek from the beach seemed to take less time than it probably did; Dean was distracted by Percy’s warmth and the hand he kept curled around the edge of Dean’s jacket as they made their way back to the car.

Sam motioned that he was going with Bobby, and Dean slid into the driver’s seat of the Impala after depositing Percy on the other side. Seeming to realize he could now rest, Percy immediately slumped into Dean, unconscious.

Dean couldn’t decide if he was grateful or not for the bench seats in his baby at the moment. Repositioning him to laying more in his lap, Dean took a moment to gently brush the hair out of Percy’s face. He knew that people looked younger in their sleep, but Percy looked almost youthful; void of the soul-deep weariness that followed him like a shadow.

As Dean followed Bobby’s Chevelle out of town, he kept one hand on the wheel and the other around Percy’s shoulders to keep him from shifting from the movement.

Rolling into the motel, Dean saw Sam emerge from the office. He threw a set of keys to Dean and pointed to room 10. Dean figured it made sense to have separate rooms between the four of them.

He gently shook Percy awake, noting the puddle of drool he had left on his pantleg. He mumbled something unintelligible, but still made a meager effort to move enough that Dean wasn’t completely carrying him to the room.

He froze for a second as he took in the room. One bed. Sam, the bastard. Deciding that his own exhaustion and Percy’s barely conscious state took precedence over Dean’s desire to slap his brother upside the head, he led Percy to the side of the bed opposite the door and lowered him down.

Dean he reached down to tug Percy’s boots off. His jacket had to come off too, of course. No one wants to sleep in leather. He was being completely and objectively sensible in the removal of Percy’s apparel. There was absolutely nothing wrong with him for guiding Percy up enough that he could tug his tattered shirt over his head. He wouldn’t want to sleep in his own dried blood, Dean rationalized.

He maneuvered Percy enough to get him under the covers, then went to remove his own boots and jacket. Percy didn’t even twitch when Dean settled beside him. He debated with himself about how much the chill in the room was an excuse for following Percy under the blankets, but decided ‘fuck it’ when he felt his own tiredness creeping in.

He left a respectful amount of distance between them on the bed and made himself comfortable enough that he was able to drift asleep, comforted by the warmth beside him and the calming scent of the Seabreeze that seemed to follow Percy.

&&

Percy was known to have worse dreams than most, by demigod standards. His resting hours were often plagued by ominous messages, vague visions, haunting images of the horrors he had seen, and the faces of those he failed to save. Unfortunately, whatever exhaustion his physical body seemed to be carrying at the time tended to transfer to his dream state.

Percy watched with wide eyes as the earth mother struck down the love of his life. He felt frozen. He couldn’t lift his shaky limbs to break out of the ground that had become a coffin around his body, and he was the corpse. He reexperienced the terror and heartbreak he had felt as he saw the limp blonde hair and unseeing grey eyes from where they lay on the cursed earth. He felt the rage that always simmered under the surface boil in a way it never had before. He heard Tartarus’ laughter as he felt that crystal ball in his stomach border on shattering.

He was trembling in his anger. He felt too warm and too powerless, and everything was shaking. He heard someone calling his name in the distance, but he was too far gone. No one could stop him from destroying her, ripping Gaea to pieces like she had to him when she took his beloved Annabeth.

His body was shaking violently, the voice calling his name getting louder and closer, telling him to snap out of it, to wake up. Wait—wake up?

He was mercilessly forced into consciousness, eyes snapping open as he swung out at whatever monster was attacking him now. He tried in vain to fight the hold of the creature that was sitting on his torso, pinning down his wrists. He kept thrashing until he caught a glimpse of the emerald eyes belonging to the monster. He knew those eyes. He let his thoughts use those eyes as a tether as his brain slowly caught up to his surroundings.

He focused on Dean, felt the weight of his body on top of him, the splattering of freckles on his face that he imagined could be mapped like constellations. He took in the calm tone Dean was using to repeat assurances that he was fine, he was safe, he wasn’t alone.

He felt his body slowly relax as he arrived fully at awareness. “Dean?” He asked. “What’s going on—where are we?”

He looked down at where Dean was sitting on his naked torso, then around the room to see Sam and a stranger nervously standing by an open door.

Dean breathed out in relief. “Perce—Percy, you’re okay, we’re at a motel, I think you were having a nightmare. The whole room was shaking-- I tried to wake you up.” He then noticed the haphazard mess of broken furniture and wall art scattered on the floor.

“I’m gonna let you go now, okay?” Percy nodded and Dean removed his hands from where they were holding down his wrists. He glanced at the door where Sam and a grouchy looking older man were watching them apprehensively. “I got this; I’ll fill you guys in later.” Sam and grouchy took their leave as Sam gave Percy a long, sad look before closing the door behind them.

Dean seemed to register that he was still on top of Percy and hurriedly moved off him. Percy sat up, subconsciously chasing him. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to scrub away the images that had followed him into his awakened state.

“Sorry—I’m so sorry. I get these dreams—sometimes memories or nightmares. I didn’t mean to—” He was interrupted. Dean reached up to pull his hands away from his face to prevent him from hiding.

“It’s okay, Perce. I get them too—nightmares, I mean.” He made to let go of Percy’s hand, but Percy held on, needing the anchor. Dean tightened his grip in response.

“I did somethings I’m not proud of when I was being “forged in hell”, or whatever. That along with the horrible shit we see on the job tends to add up when I’m asleep.” He gently started, rubbing his thumb along Percy’s palm in a soothing motion.

“I’m not exactly the poster child for healthy coping mechanisms, but I’m here if you want to talk about it. Can’t promise I’m good at this, but I’ll listen.”

Percy tugged on Dean’s hand. “Will you lay with me?” He asked, feeling raw and vulnerable, and seen.

“Yeah,” Dean responded breathlessly. He followed Percy as he went to lay on his back, still holding his hand as Percy stared at the ceiling.

They laid in silence for a few minutes as Percy got his thoughts together and Dean continued to stroke his hand.

“There was this prophecy about the Giant war,” he began quietly. “There were seven of us that were supposed to go on this quest. We had to go across the world and shit just kept getting in our way. Annabeth had to do her own quest in Rome to stop the camps from fighting, so she went off, alone. I had just found her again—I went missing for a while, it’s a long story—and I almost lost her again. She was falling and I couldn’t stop her, but I couldn’t let her go alone. We both fell.”

Percy was talking in rushed sentences, breathing quickly. He knew he wasn’t really making sense, but he had to get this out. He wanted Dean to know, to understand him more.

Dean inched closer so their bodies were touching side by side, still holding Percy’s hand and moving his thumb in gentle circles.

Still looking at the ceiling, Percy continued. “Where we fell, Tar—Tartarus,” he choked out, “no demigod had fallen and made it out before. We survived, but I had to—become something else to keep us safe. To keep her alive. While we were down there, she made me promise not to use my more—unnatural— powers once we got out. She made me swear to her.”

He relished in the heat coming from Dean and leaned a little closer into his side. He tried to focus on the calming patterns he was drawing on his hand as he went on. “Gaea ended up rising despite all the shit we did to stop her, and we got into this final battle. Annabeth was smart enough to figure out that one of the lines of the prophecy meant that Gaea would be defeated by either storm or fire; “to storm of fire, the world must fall”. Leo had made a plan behind our backs to use his fire-powers to stop her, but Annabeth got in the way.”

His voice was getting choked up, but he wanted to keep going. Dean had turned his body toward Percy and was hesitantly carding his fingers through Percy’s hair with the hand not being used as a lifeline.

He took a deep breath and powered through. “Leo realized he couldn’t take out Gaea without taking out Annabeth too, and Gaea used that to her advantage. Gaea had always taunted me that I was her pawn, somehow under her control. I didn’t really get what she meant until she got ahold of Annabeth.”

His breathing was coming in more rapidly and he had Dean’s hand in somewhat of a death grip.

“I could feel the power under my skin; the storm, the grip on her ichor, but Annabeth looked right at me and reminded me of my promise.” He could still see her steely gaze, her pleas that haunted even his waking hours. Seaweed brain, you promised.

He could feel Dean still beside him, but he didn’t sense any judgement, but rather a grave realization of where this was heading.

“She fell,” his voice breaking, “and this time, I couldn’t go with her to keep her safe.”

He shuddered, silent tears tracking down his face. “Oath to keep with final breath.”

He could feel Dean’s eyes on him, but he didn’t want to see pity there, so he kept his gaze trained on the ceiling. He lay silent for a moment, collecting himself and trying to even out his breathing.

“There was fighting going on all around us, but I saw her there on the ground-- taken from me, too trusting in me-- and I fucking lost it.”

He finally gathered the courage to turn and meet Dean’s eyes. He didn’t see the pity or remorse there that he thought he would. He saw understanding and sympathy—sympathy in a way that only someone who gets it can express.

“I destroyed her. It wasn’t pretty. I went at her until there was nothing left, and then kept going. It never seemed like enough.” He looked down between them and his voice was muffled by Dean’s shirt. He inhaled the scent of gunpowder and motel bar soap.

A few minutes passed in silence as Dean took in his story and Percy calmed himself by breathing in Dean. Slowly, Dean cupped his hand around Percy’s jaw and lifted his face to meet his.

“You kept your promise when it counted. Sounds like it was out of your hands, fate or whatever. Maybe things would’ve been different if you hadn’t, but that was what she wanted. It doesn’t make it right or hurt any less, but you can’t blame yourself for this forever.” Dean stroked the side of his face.

Percy tried to decipher any mistrust or signs of judgement in Dean, but all he saw was compassion. It had been so long since someone he trusted had looked at him with so much understanding and without contempt that he involuntarily shuddered.

“You don’t think I’m super fucked up?” He asked shyly.

“Oh, I think you’re definitely fucked up,” Dean laughed good-naturedly, and Percy looked down. “Just know you’re not the only one,” he said softly, drawing Percy’s face back to his own.

Percy searched his face for a long moment, taking in the dusting of freckles, the slight scruff just short enough to still be stylish, his full, pink lips.

“I’d like to kiss you now.” He prompted.

“Okay.”

Percy leaned in and brushed Dean’s lips with his own, hesitantly at first, but as Dean moved to kiss him back, he took that as a green light. This kiss wasn’t like the frantic ones before. This one was slow, lingering. They were taking their time to map each other out with each meeting.

He could feel Dean melting into him. The hand on his jaw had traveled to the nape of his neck where Dean had nestled his fingers into the short hair there. They were now pressed chest to chest in a warm embrace. Percy trailed his free hand over Dean’s arm to his side, fumbling to pull him closer. He wanted to feel the solid weight of him, the reality that he was here, in Percy’s arms.

They traded exploratory caresses and gentle kisses for a while before seeming to both acknowledge each other’s tiredness.

Dean gave Percy a lingering nuzzles to his neck after peppering it with kisses. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you. Even if you subconsciously create earthquakes instead of snoring like everybody else.”

Percy groaned. “I haven’t done that in a while, I’m sorry.” He hid his face in Dean’s shoulder.

“It happened sometimes at camp after… everything. Definitely embarrassing to have the whole camp know you’re having a nightmare when they start to count them on the Richter scale. I honestly wish I could snore like a normal person.” He looked around the room at the shattered glass and fractured furniture.

“Well, you do drool in your sleep. So, maybe that’s your substitute for normalcy.” Dean playfully joked and pointed to the drool spot on his sleeve.

“Ugh. I have been told before that I drool in my sleep.”

Maybe before he would’ve been overwhelmed by grief by that statement, but since opening up to Dean he felt freer than he had in a long time. Maybe since he lost her. No one would ever replace Annabeth, but the ever-present weight on his chest had significantly lightened and he felt as though he was no longer being weighed down by the ghosts of his past as much as he had been.

Dean seemed hesitant as he spoke next. “I don’t know about you, but I’m still fucking exhausted.” He seemed to search Percy’s eyes for permission to continue their closeness.

“Me too. Haven’t used that much power in a minute. Probably need to let my ‘aquaman’ powers regrow.” He winked at Dean.

Dean grumbled about ‘sarcasm coming around to bite him in the ass’ and adjusted himself to pull Percy into a quasi-spooning position with Percy’s back against his chest and his head nestled in the crook of his arm.

Percy felt safe in Dean’s embrace for the first time in a long time. There was a certain peace that came with laying your soul bare to another and finding acceptance rather than rejection. He hadn’t spoken of the events of the Giant war aloud much since he had to debrief Chiron and the rest of the seven, and he hadn’t realized how much relief he would feel after opening up to someone he trusted outside of the Greek world.

He had shared with Dean, and from what he knew about him, he hoped he gave Dean permission to share with him too. He could see the world-weary way that Dean carried himself—see the way that he looked out for his brother and loved ones above himself. Veterans of war—even quiet, unseen wars—could recognize each other.

Percy was fascinated by Dean—not just his outward appearance (which was extremely attractive and basically asking for modeling agencies to give him a call), but by his strength; his unwavering impulse to take care of his people, his instinct to obscure his vulnerability with bravado and humor, his raw and pure goodness that was practically oozing from him.

Percy could sense that underlying feeling that he feared is what drove Dean; the feeling that he is only lovable when he’s useful. Percy has felt like that himself, especially being a child of the Big Three, back when he had more power than to know what to do with. People had always looked to him to have the answers, to be the leader of camp, to always make the next right move. In turn, he had looked to Annabeth. Until he couldn’t, and it fell to him again.

Percy has felt the weight of burdening yourself to take care of everyone, even sacrificing what you have left of yourself to do it. He felt the all-encompassing urge to take some of that burden from Dean—and maybe lose some of it from himself in the process.

He nestled into Dean’s arm, appreciating the vulnerability that the warmth from this man was offering him; he knew that Dean wasn’t the most adept at expressing his feelings and was still coming to terms with being this open with someone, let alone another man, but he couldn’t help but be grateful for this beautiful human beside him.

“I could go for a few more hours. Promise no more earthquakes.”

“’Least I know I just need to pin you down to get them to stop.” Dean froze and jerked up. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He blurted out.

Percy chuckled and tugged Dean back down. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He repositioned himself so that he was fully in Dean’s embrace and pulled the covers back up. “Let’s just sleep for now.”

Dean reached over and turned out the light again, entering them into darkness. Through the flimsy motel window shades the glow of the almost full moon cast a luminescent glow on him. Percy reached behind him with his head tuned and dragged his fingers over the curve of Dean’s jaw.

“Thank you. For listening.”

“No biggie,” Dean tried to deflect.

“Seriously, it means a lot that you didn’t look at me like some kind of freak or a nuclear weapon about to go off.” Percy was beginning to hate whatever it was that made Dean so unable to accept thanks or a compliment.

“You’re welcome.” Dean said softly, surprising Percy.

Dean shuffled to get comfortable once again. “Let’s knock out now and let Sam continue to wonder about seismic effects, or whatever the nerd is probably freaking about right now.” Percy grunted an agreement and settled in.

A few moments of silence passed where Percy had almost fallen completely asleep when Percy heard Dean mumble. It was quiet enough that he could’ve passed it off as a snore or something, but it was distinct.

“You deserve more.”

Percy wasn’t going to dive into any deeper meaning to that statement at the moment, but he did find himself feeling like maybe he deserved some happiness, or peace at least. He could sense the self-deprecating meaning that Dean had probably attached to what he said, but Percy couldn’t help but feel like he had been waiting for Dean, that he deserved Dean and couldn’t do enough to cherish the trust of the man currently lying beside him.

Maybe they were both fractured people. But also, maybe they could piece themselves together, together.

Chapter Text

Morning light slanted through the cracked blinds, turning the motel room gold. Dean blinked awake slowly, brain fuzzy and warm, body sore in a way that was strangely good. Not the sharp ache of bruises or monster wounds—but the dull, satisfying heaviness of being held.

There was a weight against his side—solid, warm, breathing. Dean was glad to see Percy resting peacefully after what he had been subjected to last night. His hair was a mess across the pillow, mouth slightly open, one arm thrown across Dean’s stomach as he had partially burrowed himself in the crook of Dean’s arm.

Dean took in the sight of him and used the quiet to process what Percy had confided in him. Dean had already figured out that Percy was like him, wearing guilt like a coat and shouldering the blame for situations that may have been out of his control. Finally learning the story behind part of what weighed on him so heavily was like getting another piece to the puzzle that was Percy Jackson.

Dean could tell that Percy blamed himself for not intervening to save his girlfriend despite it sounding like they were squaring off against the literal earth and he was surrounded by others that could’ve also done something to save her. But at the root of it, that’s how Percy was. He took on all the responsibility to save the day, stop the bad guy, throw himself into the line of fire to spare another. A voice in his mind that sounded suspiciously like Sam pointed out that he was the exact same.

Dean ran his fingers through the ebony strands that tickled his arm and sighed. Percy murmured something unintelligible and snuggled into Dean tighter.

Percy was beautiful. Beyond the rugged good looks and patchwork of scars that Dean could admit he found sexy, he was beautiful in the way he existed. Fierce, stubborn, kind—even when it hurt.

Percy stirred, eyes fluttering open sleepily. Dean appreciated the rich aquamarine staring back at him that seemed to shift with Percy’s mood like the tide.

"Hey," Percy rasped, voice rough with sleep.

Dean huffed a laugh. "Hey yourself."

Percy smiled, slow and lazy, and nuzzled closer. Dean felt his throat tighten. Allowing himself to revel in the comfort of others was foreign to him. He was always prepared to be left behind.

"You stayed," Percy mumbled, half-asleep.

Dean squeezed his eyes shut for a second.

"Yeah," he whispered. "I'm staying."

Percy made a pleased little noise and promptly fell back asleep against him. Dean stared at the ceiling, feeling something dangerous and terrifying and good bloom in his chest.

He was so screwed. And he didn't even care.

&&

Sam was happy that his brother finally got his head out of his ass for once, even if he was probably freaking out internally, but they had shit to do, and he was tired. Hard to fall back to sleep knowing a nightmare in the next room could be literally earth-shattering.

After he and Bobby had made the connection between the sudden quake and the nearby son of the earthshaker, they had barged into Dean’s room to see Dean and Percy in what initially looked like a very compromising position. Marking that scene on the ever-growing list of things Sam did not want to see his brother doing, it became clear after a moment that Dean was trying to shake Percy out of a nightmare.

He and Bobby traded glances at Dean’s reassurance that he could handle this and left after Percy woke up. Sam knew Dean had his own experience with being plagued by nightmares; Percy was in good hands.

He couldn’t get back to sleep and Bobby had already put on a pot of coffee, so Sam decided to get back to research.

What he didn’t expect was a second surprise of the night. A few hours later, Cas flapped into existence behind where Bobby was sitting at the table. Bobby started and knocked over his Irish coffee, but Cas deftly caught it before it added another stain to the threadbare motel carpet.

“Uh hi Cas, welcome to the party.” Sam resumed typing on his laptop. An angel of the Lord appearing suddenly at 6am didn’t register on the oh-shit scale at this point.

“Some party.” Bobby grumbled and reclaimed his coffee. Sam was pretty sure it was 90% whiskey, but he could let Bobby pretend.

“I sensed seismic disturbances and rushed here to investigate. I was blocked from intervening in the events earlier by an unknown entity. I went to check on Dean, but he was…otherwise occupied.” Cas intoned with his deadpan gravel.

“Yeah, seems like he’s got his hands full with this Percy kid. We’re letting the idjits figure their shit out and hopefully prevent disrupting anymore fault lines today.” He set down the book he was holding and looked to Cas. “You know about what’s goin’ on with this guy?”

“He seems to have captured Dean’s attention. I am unaware if he has plans to be sexually intimate with Dean—”

Bobby held his hand up. “Stop, please. I meant with the Greek world bleeding into ours.”

Sam shook his head at Cas’s bluntness and the inspiring imagery he had conjured. He took in the angel’s appearance—rumpled trench coat, grave expression, downturned blue eyes. He looked weary and a bit sad, like a lost little puppy.

“Yes, I am aware. The cracks are forming at an even faster rate. Some of my brethren are currently attempting to subdue a kraken in the South Pacific.” Cas spoke more shortly than usual. Sam guessed it may have something to do with the sleepover happening on the other side of the wall.

“What sort of timeline are we looking at here?” Sam asked, trying to stay on topic.

“Disturbances suggest that something is rising around Southern Louisiana. It would be prudent to be in New Orleans in a week’s time.” Okay. Some solid information. Sam could work with that.

“Alright, I’m gonna call some contacts around there, see if we can get some more info. Sam, you wanna wake up the lovebirds before we have another natural disaster?” The way Cas flinched was almost imperceptive when Bobby called them ‘lovebirds’.

“Let’s wait a couple hours. Dean’s grumpy enough when he’s not running on empty, and I don’t wanna interrupt whatever’s going on over there right now. I’ll pick up some food in a bit and we can hash this out.”

Grunting in agreement, Bobby took out his flip phone and stepped into the parking lot. When the door closed behind him, Sam was left with a pile of old books on Greek lore and a sulking angel in the corner.

Sighing, he decided to check on Cas. “You okay? You kinda look like someone clipped your wings.”

“Yes. I’m completely fine. Everything is completely fine.” He said, trying to convince himself more than Sam. “We have bigger problems.”

Cas was quick to drop the topic, but Sam could tell he was bursting at the seams to get something off his chest, so he decided to push.

“No one that says they’re completely fine is ever completely fine.”

“Yes, that is the Winchester family motto.” Cas snapped. Sam held his hands up in surrender.

Castiel sighed. He looked slightly constipated as he clearly made his mind up about something. “It’s… Dean.” He said lamely.

“Okay…” Sam had known for a long time that Cas had a different relationship with Dean than he had with himself. There was too much staring and too many unspoken conversations, but he also knew his brother could be a complete idiot. John Winchester had left quite the impression on his sons and what they were expected to be like, and Dean had always tried to be the perfect soldier. That resulted Dean’s denial and a deep suppression of emotions he had never allowed himself to feel.

He had always suspected that Dean wasn’t completely straight—his obsession with Dr. Sexy and cowboy paraphernalia had been dead giveaways—but he also knew that his brother was too dense and self-loathing to pick up on interest in him beyond the cute bartender or the flirty waitress.

Cas clearly didn’t understand his own feelings completely either, but Sam had been dealing with Dean’s emotional ineptness for years, so he decided to extend a life jacket to him since he was clearly drowning.

“Look, I know you have this ‘profound bond’ with Dean,” God, he even used air quotes, he’s been around Cas too long, “and I know that it must be hard to see Dean with someone else, given your… feelings,” he gestured broadly at Cas, “but Dean isn’t going to leave you behind or abandon you just because he’s exploring whatever it is between him and Percy.”

Sam had always been the designated brother for handling conversations about feelings, but he feared he was out of depth talking to a thousands-of-years-old emotionally repressed being of celestial intent about a boy not liking him back.

Sam should really start charging for couples counseling.

“What we need to do is get through right now.” He started, trying to get back on track and prevent his life from turning into a reality dating show (God he sounded like Dean). He was really starting to feel like the host of The Bachelor at this point though; I mean how many guys are interested Dean, damn.

“Right, yes. The current crisis should take priority.” Cas seemed to resign himself to the dutiful soldier that he had rebelled against being. At least he was on their side this time.

&&

After the sun had risen enough that Sam felt justified in disturbing Dean, he used the key he had swiped the night before and entered with gifts of caffeine.

Dean barely had time to sit up, with Percy being tangled around him, and Sam tried to fight the shit-eating grin threatening to overcome his face.

“Don’t,” Dean growled.

Sam raised both his hands, innocent. “I didn’t say a word.”

Dean muttered something obscene under his breath and carefully disentangled himself, setting Percy's arm down gently. Percy groaned and rolled over, still dead asleep, utterly unbothered.

Sam snickered quietly and set the coffee down on the rickety table. "So," Sam said, sipping his drink, "sleep well? I didn’t."

Dean leveled a glare at him that could have melted concrete.

Sam just sipped louder. “Your boyfriend sure knows how to keep a man up at night.” He offered; innuendo intended.

Dean’s glare intensified. “He had a nightmare. He’s had a lot of shit happen to him.” He retorted, defensively.

Sam had not realized that his brother was so attached to this demigod already. Seems like Percy has made it onto Dean’s list of people to protect.

“Woah, chill. You know I get it just like you. We’re all a little fucked up.” Dean snorted but seemed to register that as fact.

They were both surprised when Percy commented, his voice muffled in the pillow. “We should start a hell-survivors club. Make T-shirts.”

Dean grabbed a pillow and lobbed it half-heartedly at Percy’s head. “Wake up, jackass. We got shit to do.”

That was something Sam agreed with. Hoping that Castiel had gotten his emotions in check, he sent a mental prayer to him that it was safe to come in.

Castiel appeared suddenly in the doorframe with a flutter of wings, trench coat billowing behind him.

“Hello Dean.”

Dean jumped and pulled the blanket up as if he had been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. Percy, who had previously seemed half asleep, shot out of the bed, and had his sword out faster than Sam could blink.

Percy was shirtless, and Sam did his best not to stare too long at the extensive scars that littered his torso. There was a particularly nasty one in the shape of claws dragging across his left pectoral—almost like something had tried to claw out his heart.

Cas seemed to take in the scars as well, and his harsh demeanor visibly cracking by a fraction.

Percy observed Castiel warily, then looked to Dean for instruction. Sam tried not to read too much into how Dean has somehow managed to gain the loyalty and obedience from two super-powerful beings. Dean may poke fun at him for getting involved with monsters, but Dean clearly has a type himself.

“Heya Cas. What’s with the wake-up call?” Dean asked, rolling out of the bed, and placing his hand over Percy’s to lower his raised sword.

“Something is stirring in Louisiana. It seems imperative that we be there in a week’s time to eliminate this threat.” Cas declared, wasting no time on pleasantries, as usual.

Sam decided to elaborate on that barebones explanation. “He showed up earlier with the update. Bobby left to meet up with a contact, but said he’d be in touch. We figured you guys could use some sleep.”

Cas steam-rolled on. “The barriers between worlds are weakening faster than we thought. Old powers are reemerging. Primordial forces. Titans. Chaos entities. Beings that could tear apart reality.”

Percy was quick to respond. “Which primordial forces?” He asked, anxiety rippling across his face.

Cas evidently understood his alarm given his knowledge of previous Greek conflicts and seemed uncharacteristically eager to ease his worries. “Neither Kronos nor Gaea seemed to be the forces currently rising. We have not detected disturbances in the earth that would indicate her rise since her obliteration.”

Percy appeared to be mildly reassured, but still clearly agitated.

Trying to put the pieces together, Sam recalled what his brother had mentioned after escaping the caver. “You guys met a woman yesterday, other than the one we met on the surface. Could she be pulling the strings?”

Percy hummed thoughtfully. “Hecate is powerful, but she doesn’t serve her own agenda. She backs the side that can benefit her the most. She fought with the gods in the Giant War because she knew what she would’ve lost if Gaea won. It doesn’t make sense that she would be orchestrating this by herself without someone promising her something to gain. There’s gotta be a bigger player here.” He took a seat on the bed and crossed his arms, tapping his foot.

Sam knew that name. “Hecate—goddess of magic?”

Percy nodded. “Yeah, and the mist. She taught Hazel how to create some crazy illusions. She’s got some pretty big tricks up her sleeve. Helped them take out Clytius when me and Beth were escaping from—when we left the Doors of Death.” He began fidgeting with his sword at the same tempo that his leg was jumping.

Cas spoke up, “Hecate’s involvement would explain why their forces have been obscured from us. The prophecy mentioned a ‘shadow escaping the gate’. I agree that something bigger is lurking in the shadows, as Perseus said.”

“Only monsters call me Perseus.” Percy snapped.

“My apologies, Perseus.” Cas did not look sorry. In fact, he looked smug to have riled Percy up.

“You know what, angel boy—"

Having been abnormally quiet, Dean took this moment to interrupt. “Cut it out! We got enough problems without you two sniping at each other. Sounds like we got a shitstorm coming our way and we need everyone we can get. We gotta work together ‘cause otherwise we’re screwed.”

Both Percy and Cas grumbled, but mumbled agreements.

Sam thought they should take advantage of finally having time on their side, for once. “We have a week. We should use our time to train and prepare a strategy.”

“Right.” Dean said. “Percy pointed out a weakness for us when he was fighting the titan. These things are hard to kill with bullets, and we have some snazzy new blades courtesy of Percy’s impish, pyromaniac friend.”

Percy snorted. “I am so telling Leo you said that.”

Dean ignored him. “Point is, both of you—Percy and Cas—have experience fighting with blades. We could benefit from training with them. I don’t about Percy, but I know you could improve your marksmanship, Cas. Don’t need friendly fire, and we can’t afford to fuck this up.”

Sam sounded his agreement. “Dean’s right. We can take a few days to practice with each other and face whatever is coming more cohesively. You guys are both powerful, but we need to work together. Play to each other’s strengths.”

Percy stood, squaring his shoulders, and extended his arm to Cas. “Work together?”

Cas hesitated momentarily, but gripped Percy’s hand to shake all the same. “Work together.”

“Alright.” Dean exhaled loudly. “Let’s get to it.”

&&

The motel room fell into friendly banter and negotiation of plans after their truce.

Castiel hadn’t left, just stood silently in the corner while Dean and Percy prepped weapons, packed supplies, sharpened blades. Sam sat at the small table, gathering information from crumbling lore and ancient Greek myths.

Castiel watched. He was well accustomed to silent observance—watching humanity had been his role for eons. He spent much of his time now watching Dean, unseen, when he was not otherwise occupied.

Now he watched Dean move through the room with restless energy. Watched the way Dean’s hand brushed Percy’s back when he passed with comfortable familiarity. Watched the small, unthinking smiles Dean gave him—real, unguarded—smiles Castiel had treasured when they were directed at him on rare occasion.

He didn’t resent it. Couldn’t. Anything that could bring out those smiles from Dean deserved to be appreciated. It still hurt that someone else could do it instead of him.

Castiel had loved Dean Winchester for longer than he knew what love was. He felt at home with the Winchesters—part of a family. He had seen the brightness and rarity of Dean’s soul—had carried it close to his chest as he rescued him from hell—and he felt things that changed his entire existence. He saw the goodness of Dean— his loving nature, his selflessness, his devotion to his brother—and he couldn’t do anything besides love him.

Now, watching how easily Dean fit together with Percy, he couldn’t begrudge someone who made Dean happy. Dean’s happiness was everything to him.

Angels weren’t supposed to be the object of a human’s affection. Castiel had to accept that.

Castiel closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the sharp, aching grief twist inside his vessel. He loved Dean. Because he loved Dean, he wanted him to be happy. Even if it wasn’t with him.

Like Sam had said, they had shit to do.

Chapter Text

Bobby had called and directed them to an old safe house in rural Pennsylvania to camp out at while they trained. The drive felt shorter than it actually was, between Sam peppering Percy with questions and theories and Percy’s eyes twinkling as he joked around with them, Dean was content.

They rolled up to a deserted farmhouse and set about bringing in supplies and setting up camp. After a round of sandwiches and the discarding of flannel outer layers, in Percy’s case his beat-up leather jacket, the three men were found in the yard under partly cloudy skies.

Apparently, Percy had been a sword-fighting instructor at Camp, so he took them through the basics. Cas showed back up in the afternoon and watched from the sidelines, silently.

Dean and Sam took their turns sparring with Percy.

Percy grinned, sword flashing as he blocked Dean’s strike.

“You’re slow, Winchester,” Percy teased.

Dean snorted. “You’re cheating Aquaman. Pretty sure holding down the water in my boots doesn’t count as fair play.”

Percy laughed as he side-stepped another lunge. “I never said anything about playing fair.” He winked.

They moved together, trading slashes and swipes, both careful not to land any serious blows. Dean saw an opening to use the sword-disarming trick Percy had taught them and made to lock their blades together. He was itching to make a joke about crossing swords when Percy evaded the maneuver, the momentum from his move catching Dean by surprise and slicing a wide gash in Dean’s left thigh.

Percy froze immediately in shock.

Sam rushed to his feet, “I thought you said the celestial bronze would pass through us!” He exclaimed as Dean fell to one knee, dropping his sword to put pressure on the wound. Cas flapped into existence next to Dean from where he had been watching from across the yard.

Percy recapped his pen-sword and regained movement, closing the distance to Dean. “It passes through 100% mortals. Guess you guys have some godly blood.”

He gathered air from the atmosphere and formed a thin layer of moisture on Dean’s leg “Holy shit Dean, I’m sorry, I should’ve been more careful.”

Dean could feel the water moving to hold in his blood, a weird sensation only comparable to the fuzzy tingling that came with Cas’s healing. Percy’s hands hovered over the gouge, kneeling in front of him and frowning in concentration.

Dean tried to focus on the strange sensation of having his muscles sewn together by water instead of Percy on his knees before him, almost touching his upper thigh.

“Guess we should’ve tested that theory before trying to stab each other,” he chuckled, his voice gravellier than he’d like to admit.

Cas came in closer, “Allow me to heal you,” he started, but dropped his hand when he realized what Percy was doing.

As Percy pulled his hands away, they could all see the wound closing rapidly. The open wound became a slice, became a scrape, became a puffy red scar until it faded entirely into a thin white line under his torn jeans. The water receded, washing away the blood as it went.

Dean tried to meet Percy’s eye, but he was looking down and away like he was ashamed.

“Perce--?” Dean started.

He was interrupted by Castiel. “You should not have been able to have done that.” Castiel stood to his full height and was looking down at Percy, who was still kneeling. “The power of healing is not within the arsenal of Poseidon’s powers. You should not be able to heal flesh wounds with water. You—”

Cas took a step back and was looking at Percy in a whole new light. “Your soul! It’s—I’ve never seen anything like it. Not even among demigods!”

Percy looked more downtrodden than Dean had ever seen him. “I know, I’m fucked up—”

Cas interrupted, “No, it’s not that. Your soul is fractured yes, much like Dean and Sam’s are, but it’s more than that. The demigod souls that I have witnessed have been more-or-less evenly split between godly and mortal. Yours is godlier than I have ever seen—it’s bordering on immortality.”

Percy looked downright depressed at that news. Dean itched to change the subject, if only to bring a smile back to Percy’s face.

“How about let’s worry why I’m susceptible to godly metal! I’d rather not get skewered when Percy’s trying to prove a point—sorry Perce.” He smirked at Percy while trying to discern Percy’s mental state. He was clearly displeased with the status of his soul. Dean was all for distancing himself from all things immortal, but it looked like Percy had some other conflicting emotions about it.

Percy chuckled hollowly. “Knew you were too handsome to be completely human.” He winked at Dean, but his tone was too flat, and his smirk didn’t meet his eyes.

Dean turned his head to Sam and pleaded for help with his eyes. Percy obviously didn’t want to linger on the subject of his mortality, or lack thereof.

Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. “Maybe since we’re archangel vessels? I don’t know about anyone in the family that would’ve been descended from a god otherwise.”

Sam picked up Dean’s discarded sword and held it to his palm. He was about to slice his hand when Percy stopped him. “Dude! Just prick your finger. Why would you mutilate your sword hand?”

“Oh right.” Sam said sheepishly. Dean was reminded of all the tests with silver over the years to prove their humanity. They could’ve saved a lot of bloody handkerchiefs.

He pricked his finger, and sure enough a drop of crimson appeared. “Huh.” Dean said, turning to Cas. “What do you think, buddy?”

Castiel was still staring fervently at Percy, X-ray vision clearly hard at work. Dean snapped his fingers in his face. “Earth to Castiel. Why can we be shish-kabobbed by godly weapons?”

His eyes refocused on Dean, but he could still see the gears turning in that angelic mind. “I’m not sure. Your predisposition to be angelic vessels should not extend to the capacity for injury by celestial bronze. The metal would work on me because my vessel, Jimmy, was the great-grandson of a demigod child of Athena. However, it would not surprise me if you both were legacies. Angelic bloodlines tend to catch the attention of the gods. Gabriel’s vessel was the demigod son of Dionysus, after all.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Sam muttered.

Mood having been slightly improved with the change in conversation, Percy said, “Just as long as Poseidon’s not your great-grandaddy or something. That would be awkward.” He winked at Dean again. The warmth had returned to his gaze and Dean found himself irrationally soothed by the sparkle in his eyes.

“Alright,” Dean said, standing up, “We’re all fine and dandy now, so let’s stop wasting daylight.” He extended his hand to Percy to pull him up. “We can keep practicing with blades tomorrow, but it’s time to break in these new pistols. Plus, I wanna see if you’re a good shot, Perce.” He said with a smirk.

Dean could admit to himself that he mostly wanted to show off his own skills after Percy had effectively kicked his ass at sword-fighting. His assurances that he was better than most did not help his ego much.

They set up some empty cans on a fence nearby. Both Percy and Cas protested many times that shooting was unnecessary for them, but Dean was determined to see them at least try.

After he and Sam reminded them of basic gun handling and how to turn off the safety, Percy and Castiel both took stances to aim at the fence.

They shared at look that could almost be mistaken for camaraderie as they each resigned themselves to their fate. At least they were smart enough to know Dean wasn’t going to let them get off easy. Plus, it was better than outright glaring at each other again.

Dean had known that Castiel was not the best shot, but the Crotoan-apocalypse version of him gave him hope that he could be taught. He missed the first few shots, but grazed the can on the fifth try. Dean gave him a thumbs up and reassured him that he just needed to practice.

Cas may have potential, but from the first shot, Dean could tell that Percy was completely hopeless. He missed the can he had been aiming for by about 6 feet on his first shot. After Dean encouraged him to try again, he sighed and emptied the clip. Not only did he miss all the cans by a wide margin, but he also managed to crack the fence post, hit a pinecone, and ricochet a bullet off a rock on the ground so that it zinged eerily close to Sam’s princess locks.

Dean called him off and grabbed his gun back to click on the safety.

“I’m not good with projectiles. Sorry, Sam.” Percy said as he shrugged sheepishly.

“Yeah, no shit! It was almost impressive that you suck so bad!” Dean exclaimed. It looked like he had been aiming at the cans, but the bullets seemed to arc away from their intended targets magically. Or Percy was just a fucking terrible shot.

Percy kicked a pebble that skidded across the gravel. “I think I should probably stick with my sword.”

“Good idea.” Sam, Cas, and Dean said simultaneously.

&&

As the sun set, they decided to pack it up for the day and head inside. The safehouse they were at fortunately had both electricity and running water and wasn’t in as bad of condition as it appeared from the outside. Dean considered the prospect of a hot shower nothing short of a miracle after sweating his ass off playing gladiator all day.

They made their way inside, turning lights on as they went. Dean’s muscles were protesting doing anything besides taking a shower and flopping onto a cushioned surface, but Percy’s stomach growled loudly, and he was reminded of his own hunger.

“Dude, no wonder you’re so ripped. I’m gonna be sore as fuck tomorrow,” he commented rubbing his biceps.

Percy blushed and almost walked right into a closed door. Dean snorted and shook his head fondly.

Grateful that he had had the foresight of grocery shopping and unloading before they trained, Dean set about organizing ingredients to throw together some pasta with meat sauce. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his gargantuan brother open his mouth to complain and tossed the vegetables he bought on the counter before Sam could bitch about how unhealthy he was. Sam’s mouth shut with an audible clacking noise, and he nodded his thanks.

He went to work preparing and seasoning the meat and setting a pot of water to boil. As much as he protested against rabbit food to Sam, he could whip up some tasty brussels sprouts that had just the right crunch; With enough oil and seasoning, they were almost passable as real food. As he started chopping and removing the stems, Sam read his mind and grabbed the six-pack from the fridge, passing him one.

Curiously, Cas had both stuck around, and took a beer from Sam when offered. When he offered Percy one, he looked uneasy and declined. Looking around like he didn’t know where to sit, he came over and offered to help Dean with dinner.

Dean appreciated the help since Cas thought everything tasted like molecules and Sam could burn water. He passed of the knife to Percy and instructed him to trim the sprouts and cut them in half. He busied himself with preparing the meat sauce, and occasionally took a sip from his beer.

He noticed Percy eyeing him subtlety when he took a drink, he paused what he was doing and turned to him, leaning against the counter. Dean caught his attention and sent him a questioning look mouthing ‘Are you okay?’.

Percy hesitated and looked around, glancing at Cas and Sam at the small table, the latter already having pulled out his laptop. Percy seemed to decide that he was in a safe place and explained, “I don’t really drink. I’d have to drink a shit ton to really feel anything as a demigod, but also…”

He took a pause as if weighing the pros and cons of sharing something personal but continued.

“My first stepdad…he was not a nice drunk. My mom stayed with him to protect me, but those bruises didn’t go away when they faded, you know? I just tend to stay away from it.” He looked down and fiddled with his pen, a nervous tick Dean had picked up on.

Emboldened to reassure Percy, Dean decided to share something that he usually avoided like truck stop waitresses with weird rashes.

“I know how that is.” Dean said quietly. Percy looked up, a vulnerable expression on his face.

“Our dad, John, he—he got mean when he was hanging out with his old buddy, Jack Daniels. I could usually protect Sammy, but…” He sighed and turned back to mixing the meat with the seasonings. “My dad had a lot of anger. A demon got our mom when Sammy was just a baby, and dad was stuck with two kids, a vendetta, and a drinking problem.”

He could tell Sam was eavesdropping, but this moment of sharing with Percy felt important.

“I got my own issues when it comes to turning to the bottle. I guess I just don’t know how to deal with all the shit that happens to us without numbing it. I know it’s like slapping a band-aid on a bullet wound, but I’ve never claimed to have healthy coping mechanisms.” He let out a self-deprecating chuckle.

He paused in his movements when he felt Percy’s hand on his lower back.

“A long time ago I got this curse that made me invulnerable. It was during the first war, and we needed all the help we could get, so I bathed in the river Styx, and it made my skin like iron.” Dean looked up at Percy and was a bit confused as to where this was going, but Percy’s hand rubbing comfortable circles put him at ease.

“I only had one weak spot—one part of my body that I could be hurt.” He didn’t say where out loud, but his hand had snaked underneath the edge of Dean’s shirt, and he put firm pressure on the small of his back. Dean felt a tingle up his spine from the skin-to-skin contact.

He kept his hand there when he continued. “I ended up losing it when I got to New Rome, and the moment it was gone, I felt completely naked, stripped bare. I had no memory at the time, but feeling so vulnerable made my skin literally itch.”

His hand seeped warmth into his whole body. Dean recalled how sleeping next to Percy had been like laying on a smoldering furnace, and at this moment he was reminded of the feeling of warming yourself at a bonfire surrounded by good company. Percy was a living heated blanket. He figured it made sense that someone who could survive in the ocean’s depths would run so hot. He was not complaining.

Percy continued, oblivious to Dean’s inner monologue. “I mourned the loss of the invulnerability, but I had so much other shit going on that I had to just keep going. I’ve found myself wishing at times that I could just turn it back on, block out the pain, only have one spot that could get to me.” Dean got the feeling he wasn’t just talking about physical vulnerability anymore.

“I eventually figured out that only having one way to get hurt means that all the other pain concentrates there and hurts a hell of a lot more if it gets hit. Invulnerability is great until one thing sends it all comes crashing down.” Dean read between the lines and realized he was talking about losing Annabeth.

Percy finally met his green eyes with Dean’s. They were much closer now. He hadn’t consciously noticed his decision to minimize the distance between them.

He was almost whispering now. “Letting yourself be vulnerable, letting other people in, means getting hurt in one place doesn’t destroy you. Only having one mortal point, one outlet, one person to rely on, actually makes you more vulnerable.” Dean wasn’t sure how Percy had picked up on his codependency with Sam so quickly, but he couldn’t deny that he made a valid argument.

Their eyes were locked at this point, and everything else around Dean had been reduced to white noise as Percy looked at him like he could see the depths of his being, the core of who he was. He didn’t see judgement or sympathy, only understanding.

He was abruptly drawn out of his reverie by the scraping of a chair and the whoosh of wings. Like a magic spell had been broken, Dean turned to see his brother anxiously looking between them and where Cas had just vanished.

The boiling water on the stove reminded him that he was supposed to be doing something other than be read like a book by Percy, and he quickly stepped away from him to finish cooking dinner. As Percy’s hand dropped from his back, the heat that he emitted lingered and seemed to heft left a handprint behind.

Dean did not consider that someone else had left a handprint on him.

&&

Dinner was a casual affair. Sam explained that Cas had left so suddenly because he had been called away by one of heaven’s scouts, and with Dean’s easy acceptance of that excuse, he seemed disappointed for some reason.

Percy ate his fill, putting away three full plates easily, and making sounds of contentment to rival him. Sam abandoned his criticism of Dean’s eating habits for once, and suggested to Percy that he and the pasta should get a room.

Feeling full and almost content, Dean still had one task left in the day before he could pass the fuck out. He gathered his duffle bag from where they had dropped them in the living room and made his way upstairs. Their earlier exploration of the farmhouse had revealed that the upstairs contained a master bedroom, a smaller bedroom, a study turned hunter’s weaponry and monster-proofing store, and a full bathroom.

Dean didn’t want to be presumptuous when it came to sleeping arrangements and was reluctant to suggest that he and Percy share a bed again. He was however also reluctant to sleep on the couch downstairs as he knew the way his joints and muscles had been tested today would not benefit from lumpy couch cushions. His brain helpfully reminded him of the comfort and peace that came with sleeping next to Percy, but he was not about to bring that up himself.

He was rescued from his hesitation of where to put his bag when Percy appeared on the second-floor landing and swiped it from him, laughing raucously, taking both of theirs into the master bedroom. He shouted in indignation but was secretly relieved to not have to make the decision himself.

Percy was already at work putting sheets on the bed that he had evidently had the foresight to take from the linen closet. He had placed Dean’s duffle bag on the floor next to the side of the bed closest to the door. Dean wasn’t sure if he had already noticed that he liked to sleep closer to the door to be the first line of defense, or if it was just random, but he found himself touched either way.

He heard Sam’s giant ass settle into the other bedroom down the hall, and grunted in affirmation when he claimed first shower.

Turning back to Percy, he saw his first sign of hesitance since he had designated the two of them to share a bed once more.

“Sorry for assuming anything, I just sleep better when I’m not alone. Um, less nightmares and stuff. Plus, you know, cuddling with you is nice.” He sent Dean a sheepish, but hopeful grin.

Dean cleared his throat and tried for nonchalance (it was not successful; he was blushing like a teenage boy the first time he made it to first base). “Yeah, I mean, whatever makes the most sense, man.”

He avoided making eye-contact and shuffled through his bag to find clean clothes. He wasn’t sure what his problem was. They were just two guys sharing a bed. Again. With cuddling mentioned. I mean, what was the big deal? He had shared a bed with Sammy for years. He had been fine before, hell he woke up with Percy this morning in a better mood than he had woken up in a long time.

It was just… Percy was attractive. Who was he kidding, Percy was fucking hot. And a good kisser. Which Dean had found out. From kissing him. Twice. Holy fuck, was that yesterday? The last twenty-four hours had been batshit crazy.

Percy had been quietly ruffling through his own backpack, politely letting Dean have his freak-out. Suddenly, he was right behind Dean, and he tensed when Percy grabbed his shoulder.

“Dean? Are we—are you okay?” He asked, loosely gripping Dean’s shoulder like he was scared to push too far.

As soon as Percy touched him, Dean’s cloudy thoughts cleared like the sun was pushing through. He sighed and placed his hand on top of Percy’s, holding it there.

“Yeah, we’re good, Perce. Just thinking about how fucking crazy the last day has been.” He kept his hand where it was and stood, turning to face him.

He brought his free hand to Percy’s jaw and held it to keep his beautiful eyes on him.

He decided to bite the bullet. “Alright, I’m not gonna lie, or sugarcoat it.” He took a deep breath. “I’m scared, Perce. I’m scared that we’ve gotten so close so fast. I’m scared that I care about you so much already. I’m scared that I’m gonna fuck this up like everything else. I’m scared that we’re facing a multidimensional clusterfuck, and that I already need you too much to lose you to it. I’m just scared.”

He fought to hold eye-contact but toughed it out. Percy deserved than Dean being too chicken-shit to own up to his feelings. His words from earlier had really stuck. No matter how short of a time they had known each other, Percy had earned his trust.

“I’m scared too.” Percy replied. Dean was mesmerized by the swirling colors looking at him. He could almost see the waves crashing in the sea that was his eyes.

“Can I be honest about something?” Percy asked, uncharacteristically, but adorably, nervous.

“Yeah, anything.” Dean said breathlessly. They had somehow drifted closer without Dean noticing, much like earlier.

He took a deep breath. “The first time I met you, I knew I was in trouble. I found you guys following leads from the prophecy, but when we met, I had this feeling in my gut that you were gonna be important to me.” He said cautiously.

They were only a few inches apart and Dean was transfixed at the texture of the other man’s stubble under his fingertips. He ran his thumb over the corner of his jaw and made a rumbling laughing sound in his chest, “I was a dick to you then. Why?”

Percy smiled and breathed out shakily. “You were kind of a dick, but after we talked a few times, I feel like I saw me in you—a kindred spirit or something. When we kissed, it--it felt like coming home.” He rushed out. “I’m already at a spot where I know I’ll be devasted if I lose you, and honestly, I’m scared too. I don’t think I can afford to lose you. Not after—I can’t lose you too.”

He had looked down, but Dean pulled his face back up to meet his eyes. “Percy, we’re gonna get through this. We’re gonna kick ass, and we’re gonna close the rift, and we’ll crush anything that stands in our way. We got this.” He tried to imbue the confidence that being around Percy gave him into his voice.

Percy started to say something, but he was interrupted by Sam calling out through the cracked door.

“I’m done in the shower! I’m gonna crash, see you guys tomorrow.”

Dean and Percy had startled apart, but both voiced thanks and agreements to Sam.

Dean heard Sam’s door click shut and moved to grab his shower stuff. “I should probably—I’m gonna jump in the shower, if you’re cool with me going first.”

Percy recovered quickly, “Without me?” He joked, batting his eyelashes flirtatiously in an over-the-top way.

Dean froze, fumbling with his shower go-bag, almost entirely dropping it. “W-what?” His mind was suddenly filled with fantastic imagery of a naked Percy, water dripping from the planes of his muscles, completely in his element. He was somewhat aware that his mouth was gaping open but was too overwhelmed by his vivid imagination to pick his jaw up off the floor.

Percy, misunderstanding his silence for discomfort, quickly backtracked. “I was just, um, joking. Yeah, you can go first, I’ll just—I should probably get my stuff and—”

He was rudely interrupted by Dean’s lips attacking his. Dean dropped his clothes and toiletries to hungrily cover Percy’s mouth with his own. The momentum from his lunge at him sent them both careening into his side of the bed. Percy overcame his surprise quickly and returned the kiss with enthusiasm. Dean had one hand thrusted into Percy’s wild mop of hair while his other explored Percy’s waist and snuck under the hem of his shirt.

When Dean found his way to the small of Percy’s back, Percy gasped into his mouth and Dean found himself at his mercy when he was turned around and shoved into the mattress suddenly beneath him. Percy kissed him with vigor, sucking on his bottom lip and taking the opportunity of Dean’s desperate gasp for air to delve his tongue into Dean’s mouth.

Dean was completely overwhelmed by the feel of Percy’s mouth on his, their tongues intertwined and fighting for dominance. There was so much pent up between them-- a swirling mix of trust, desire, and raw vulnerability. Dean was doing all he could not to get up in the riptide that was Percy’s lust for him.

He drew his lips from Percy’s and began mouthing across his jawline, down his neck. He altered between nibbling love bites and soothing them over with his tongue. The salty tang that came from the taste of Percy’s skin was reminiscent of saltwater, but also abruptly reminded him of how he must smell after their outdoor activities earlier.

He kissed the trail of red marks he had made back up Percy’s neck with kisses until he was able to make eye contact. “You wanna move this to the shower? I still need a rinse off after our earlier workout.”

As soon as he had uttered the words, he already knew what Percy’s response would be. He could’ve said the words in tandem as Percy replied, “Is that the only workout you’re up to tonight?”

He snorted laughter and buried his head in the crook of Percy’s shoulder. “Come on asshole, we need to hose down. You still have grass stains on your jeans.”

“Dude, you pinned me down one time. Your ass is literally grass right now.” Percy retorted. “And I totally let you do that. You get this sexy look in your eye when you think you’re about to win. I had to.”

Dean shoved him off and fake pouted. “I was gonna win. Don’t deny it.”

“Yeah, good for you, your batting average is like 1 right now.” Percy scoffed.

Dean could play along. “Yeah! 1.0, I’ll take it.”

“No, you idiot. 1 out of a thousand. Batting a thousand is 1.0. You’re batting like 0.001 right now.”

“Oh God, what are you, some baseball fanatic?”

“Hey, I grew up in New York. You can’t not know baseball. Plus, the Yankees are totally winning the AL East this year.”

“Yankees over Mets? You’re not a true New Yorker.”

“Hey Yankees caps can turn you invisible, you know. I’ll show you sometime.”

“Still makes you a traitor to your city. And I heard the Red Sox don’t suck this year, so don’t go making any bets.”

They argued all the way to the shower, but Dean was happier than he could remember. It felt like a burden had been lifted from him. Sam was always his number one priority. This time, the end of the world felt different. Maybe everything was going to shit again, but for once, he didn’t feel like he was carrying the burden alone, trying to prevent his brother from feeling the load. This time, he had someone he could carry it with.

Chapter Text

Dean lost all bravado when the bathroom door clicked shut behind him and he was alone with Percy. He had been about to make another quip about baseball—a sport he only watched when motel room channels were limited—when Percy started to toe off his socks and reached behind himself to yank off his shirt. His mouth went dry as muscled planes of tan skin became visible.

Dean had been with plenty of women in his life—more than he could honestly remember—but he was not experienced when it came to man-on-man action. He understood the general mechanics of it, and he could admit it had some appeal, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to dive off the deep end quite yet.

Percy paused amid unbuckling his belt and looked up to where Dean was frozen by the door.

“Dean?” He approached cautiously, moving like he was attempting not to spook a wild animal.

“We don’t have to—I was just planning on showering. There are no expectations here.” He halted his arm in midair before he made contact with Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s eye was caught by the ripple of his pectoral and shoulder muscles. Bare skin that he had already touched, held even. What was his hold up now?

Percy dropped his arm and made to buckle his belt. “I can go after you, I’ll probably take a while anyway and I don’t want to use all the hot water—” He was cut off with a small oomph sound when Dean remembered he had use of his limbs and wrapped his arm around Percy’s bare torso to pull him to himself.

Chest to chest, Dean gave Percy a chaste kiss before pulling back, still holding him close.

“I want you to stay. I’m just—I’ve never—this is all new ground for me.” He finished lamely.

Percy settled his hands on Dean’s neck, each thumb brushing softly against his jaw line. He let out a low chuckle. “I promise that this is new ground for both of us. I get it’s different for you. Greeks don’t tend to get caught up in gender—there are enough Apollo kids at camp with a mortal father to prove that—but I’ve never really been, um, with any guys, past kissing.”

Dean could feel his smile blooming across his face. Percy was nervously rambling, and it was really cute.

He breathed out in a huff and looked directly in Dean’s eyes. They were mere inches apart. “What I’m trying to say is that we can go as slow as we want, or not do anything at all. I’m perfectly content if I just get to be near you.”

He dropped one hand to Dean’s waist, playing with the hem of his shirt. “Okay?”

Dean nodded and moved back enough that he could pull his own shirt over his head. “Okay.”

He watched Percy’s eyes hungrily take in Dean’s body for the first time. Dean tried not to be self-conscious about how much more muscular Percy was. Dean was in pretty good shape, but a healthy balance between hunting and bacon cheeseburgers had made him less defined.

It didn’t seem to matter to Percy as he ran his hands across Dean’s torso, pausing momentarily at each scar. He traced his index finger along the lines of the pentagram on his chest, transfixed.

Dean pushed past the choking sensation in his throat from the tingling sensation that Percy’s delicate touches had inspired. His voice came out as a gravelly whisper. “Demon protection symbol. Ward against possession.”

Percy hummed and reached for the waistline of Dean’s pants, pausing to look up, silently asking for permission. Dean nodded and let Percy help him out of his jeans, toeing his socks off as he went. Percy quickly removed his own jeans, leaving both of them in just boxers.

Percy flicked his wrist casually, and the shower turned on without him even looking at it. He carefully slid a finger just barely into the band of Dean’s boxers but paused again in another silent question. Dean tried not to think about how the removal of the thin material would completely reveal the cause behind the tent that had been slowly growing. He decided to man up and shimmied them down, they weren’t doing anything and he needed to chill the fuck out.

Percy seemed to be holding himself from immediately touching, but his attention got caught on the thin white scar on his thigh, left behind from his own sword earlier that day.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt.” Percy said, his voice holding more emotion that Dean wanted to read into now. “And I hated that I had been the one to cause it.”

“Hey,” he said, drawing Percy’s face back to his own. “It was an accident, and you healed me. I’m okay.” Percy still looked displeased, and Dean could admit that he had given him a pretty weak assurance, but he stepped away to drag his own boxers down.

Dean’s attention was immediately snagged on the patch of circular burn marks clustered on his hip that Dean knew were cigarette burns. He unconsciously reached out to touch, but Percy caught his hand to stop him.

The pain in Percy’s expression prevented him from questioning him. He was much more interested in making Percy feel good than bringing up traumatic memories in their current states of nakedness.

He grabbed Percy’s hand and led him into the shower, swiping his bag of cheap toiletries on the way.

They took their time to wash themselves and each other, tentatively exploring what they could touch without going too far. Percy kept the soap out of his eyes and from running down his face as he washed Dean’s hair. Dean closed his eyes in bliss; the gentle scratching on his scalp and the intimate closeness of their bodies sent a feeling of deep contentment rushing through him.

Percy pressed his lips to his and Dean melted against him, his hands exploring his warm, wet body eagerly. Percy paused their make-out session that was quickly becoming more heated to bring Dean’s attention to the water—which Dean had just realized had completely stopped in mid-air.

Percy’s control over his element was amazing. He had frozen every drop from the shower still, hovering in place. He didn’t even look like he was really paying attention to it, his eyes trained solely on Dean.

“We should train with my powers tomorrow. See how you guys fare against supernatural forces.” Dean reached out to touch a water droplet. A ripple appeared as it stayed suspended.

“Sure, I’d love to see what other tricks you got, Aquaman.” He was rewarded for that nickname with a spout of water to the face. He spluttered as Percy let control of the water and it crashed to the tub around them.

Percy was smirking when Dean opened his eyes, and Dean gave him a playful shrug.

Still smirking, Percy pulled Dean out of the tub. “Let’s get to bed. I have a long day of kicking your ass tomorrow,” he said with a twinkle of mischief in his eye.

“Yeah, you wish.” Dean snorted, reaching for a towel. He realized then that in their haste, they hadn’t grabbed any from the linen closet. He turned to Percy just as he was siphoning the water from Dean. Already dry, Percy gathered the water and threw it into the tub behind him.

“Forgot about that. Thanks.”

“No problem, water-bender at your service.” He said with a wink and a mocking bow.

Dean rolled his eyes and pulled on his clean boxers.

He and Percy grabbed their stuff and headed back to the room. By the time Dean crawled under the covers, the athletic events of the day had fully caught up with him. He was ready to sink into the mattress.

Percy shuffled in next to him, and they did an awkward dance of trying to get two men over six-feet tall in a comfortable position before they ended up with Percy under Dean’s arm, head tucked against his chest and his arm slung over his torso.

Finally settled, Dean pulled Percy close and allowed himself to revel in the intimacy. Percy seemed just as content, and neither of them felt the need to express their satisfaction from the comfort they gave each other out loud.

Dean felt safe and secure with Percy in his arms. He closed his eyes and allowed the warm body and skin-on-skin contact lull him into unconsciousness.

&&

The first thing Percy registered as he drifted awake was the lack of warmth. He rolled over, stretching out his hand to pull Dean closer, but the only thing he touched was empty sheets. He snapped open his eyes and shot up in bed, suddenly panicked at waking up alone. He was about to jump to his feet when he caught the scent of bacon cooking. He vaguely recalled a stubbly face kissing his forehead when he was semi-conscious, and allowed the smell wafting up the stairs to reassure him that everything was fine.

He was okay. Dean was okay. He unclenched the hand that had subconsciously grabbed Riptide from the nightstand and willed his heart to stop racing. After all these years, it was hard to wake up alone when you’re not expecting to be, even though it had been a long time for him.

He was further soothed when he heard low tones of the brothers conversing from downstairs. He rolled out of the bed and dressed quickly, making a stop at the bathroom before he headed down.

Brushing his teeth, he could barely contain his smile as he recalled being in there with Dean the night before. His imagination had not done Dean justice—he was far from disappointed when he finally got to see him naked. He traced the line of love bites around his collarbone and felt the ghost of Dean’s lips on his skin.

He was grinning like an idiot when he entered the kitchen, greeted by a spectacular view of Dean cooking breakfast in a flowery apron.

“Good morning, Martha Stewart!” He announced brightly, taking the liberty to swipe a stripe of bacon from the paper towel lined plate on the counter.

Sam snorted from his spot at the table. “You’re awfully chipper this morning.”

“You bet I am.” He said, pointing at Sam with his bacon. “It’s not every day I get to wake up to breakfast and a view.” He closed one eye and framed the sight of Dean in his apron with his fingers like he was taking a picture.

“Shut up.” Dean snarked without heat. “How many pancakes do you want?”

“Dunno, how many are you making?” He said, taking in the full bowl of batter Dean had prepared.

Percy walked over to the cupboard where they had unloaded the groceries yesterday. He rummaged around until he found what he was looking for and pulled out the little bottle of blue food coloring. Convincing Dean it had been an essential purchase was laughably easy. Dean was a charmer himself, but Percy’s baby seal eyes had never failed him.

He sidled up to Dean, who relinquished the whisk without protest, and allowed him to add the dye to the mixing bowl. He stirred the drops in until he was satisfied with the shade and returned the bowl to Dean.

Dean, looking fond and amused, greeted him back with a quick kiss. “Good morning.” He wrapped his free arm around Percy’s lower back.

Sam complained, not looking up from his laptop, “Not in the kitchen!”

Dean had opened his mouth to snark back when a figure dressed in black appeared in the doorway.

“Hello boys. My, my, this is sickeningly domestic.” The man clicked his tongue.

Percy whirled away from Dean and had his sword extended against the newcomer’s throat in the blink of an eye.

“Crowley?” Sam questioned, standing up from the table in the periphery of Percy’s vision. Guess they knew this guy. Regardless, he wasn’t dropping his sword until he knew if this was a friend or foe.

Dean had dropped the bowl on the counter and followed Percy, coming to a stop a few feet behind him.

“The fuck are you doing here?” Dean prompted, dusting flour from his hands.

“Nice to see you too, Squirrel.” The man—Crowley—said cheerily. “You mind putting your attack dog on a leash? Or should I say shark.” He winked at Percy meaningfully. “I just had this suit ironed, and I’d hate to muck it up.”

Percy pressed his sword tighter against Crowley’s neck, drawing a thin line of blood. From the drop of blood, he figured that either this guy was a godly descendent or a monster of some kind. He was counting on the latter considering how slimy he seemed. Either way, he wasn’t putting his sword down until he got some answers, or Dean gave him the ‘okay’. Attack shark or whatever, he didn’t care.

“Explain now. Who the fuck are you, and why should I care?” Percy demanded.

Dean sighed and turned to Percy. “This weasel is Crowley, former crossroads demon, current pain in our ass. He’s helped us before, but he always does it to save his own skin.” Percy nodded, grateful for the context.

“Hey Dean, how do you get these pretty, powerful boy toys wrapped around your little finger?” Percy pressed in harder. “Ouch! Feisty. Poor feathers.”

“Answer the question, Crowley.” Dean growled. “Why are you here?”

“Well,” Crowley started, straining against the blade at his throat, “A little birdie whispered to me that there was a revolution afoot. Now, dear old Hades and I have never seen eye to eye, and I asked myself, who better than myself to fill the power vacuum if the gods are overthrown?”

He tried to shift to relieve some of the pressure, but Percy snapped his fingers and a snake of water rose from the sink, solidifying into frozen handcuffs as they snagged Crowley’s hands behind his back.

“Neat trick.” Crowley sounded genuinely appraising, but Percy was growing impatient of his pompous attitude. He drew another drop of blood from his neck.

“Get on with it, Crowley! Whose side are you on?” Dean prompted.

“Well, as I was saying,” he huffed, “I was recruited by Hecate, and we made a deal. I lent her some of my hellhounds if she cemented my claim to the throne. That di ’Angelo boy would’ve been a problem, but Persephone and I have always gotten along swimmingly. All was fine and dandy until I figured out that Hecate was not the one pulling the strings.”

“Nico would kick your greasy ass.” Percy remarked, pulling the ice manacles tighter against his wrists. Nico di ‘Angelo would not let his father be usurped by this pig in a black suit of a blanket. He needed to contact his cousin to figure out what was going on beyond whatever half-truths this Crowley was spewing. Percy had been dealing with beings that see themselves above humans for most of his life. He had learned by this point that self-interest was rarely overshadowed by good intentions.

Sam had fortunately zeroed into the important part. “So, who is pulling the strings? Who is so bad that the so-called King of Hell got cold feet?”

“I dare not speak her name aloud, but let’s just say Hecate’s dearest mother is stirring, and she is no longer content residing in the deepest parts of hell.”

Percy sucked in a breath in realization. “You don’t mean—”

Sam interrupted, “Deepest parts of hell? Like Lucifer’s cage?”

Crowley smiled condescendingly. “Oh Moose, Lucifer’s cage is just a pretty layer above the evils that lie beneath. No mortal would dare venture down there—oops, sorry, I mean no mortal would dare venture there again.” He shot a knowing wink to Percy.

Percy made eye contact with Dean, and he knew he wasn’t doing a good job at masking his terror when Dean’s mouth fell agape with poorly veiled horror.

Dean interjected, “Something’s rising from Tartarus?” Percy flinched, and Dean sent him an apologetic look.

“That’s the Greek super-hell you were talking about?” Sam asked Percy, eyes wide.

“Enough of this.” Percy interrupted. “What are you doing here?”

“Yeah, Crowley, spill. I know you always have an ulterior motive.” Dean joined in.

“How Dare you boys think so lowly of me? I saw an opportunity, and I took it. Turns out that I didn’t fancy working for the mother of all that goes bump in the night.” Crowley explained, sighing dramatically. He tried to shift to reposition the sword at his neck, but Percy responded in kind.

“So, the Mother of Night is behind this?” Percy questioned. He was seriously not inclined to tangle with her again, especially not after their meeting in the Pit. He and Annabeth had only gotten past her through trickery, and he was not excited to see what she was like at full, vengeful power.

“The Mother of Night being—” Sam started but was abruptly cut off by both Percy and Crowley.

“Don’t say Her name!” Percy exclaimed.

“Do you have a death wish?” Crowley shouted.

This was not good. Very not good. Not only was he firmly opposed to fighting any more primordials (I mean, come on—he shouldn’t have even met one—let alone three), but Crowley’s implications of Her being the mother of monsters didn’t make sense. At least not the Greek ones. He had already met the mother of Greek monsters (Echidna was really too much at age 12), and something wasn’t adding up there.

Apparently, Dean had the same train of thought. “You said Mother of all that goes bump in the night. Does this—person have to do with just Greek monsters? Or our monsters too?”

“Ah yes. Refreshing to find out you’re not just a pretty face.” Crowley crowed. “Mother Night has sired many offspring, even the Fates themselves. However, you may be more familiar with her creation of the original monsters. You might call them Alphas. The creatures you boys love to hunt didn’t just pop up out of nowhere. They are descendants of the original Alphas of their respective species. Children of Night.”

“Well, that’s ominous.” Dean declared.

“Yeah, no shit.” Sam said. “Crazy to think that the things we face are in some kind of twisted family tree.”

“Vamps are literally blood brothers.” Dean snorted. “Glad I missed attending the family reunion.”

Percy wondered what that had meant but returned his attention to the man still squirming before him. He wasn’t making any headway against the ice cuffs, but not for lack of effort.

He decided to cut the foreplay and figure out why this guy—demon, whatever, was here giving them a history lesson and betraying his own allegiance to their enemy, regardless of his supposed change of heart.

“So why are you here now? What’s in it for you?” Percy inquired. Sam and Dean both fixed their respective glares on the man that vaguely reminded Percy of a mole rat.

“Remember boys that while others may underestimate you, I never have. I don’t fancy myself under the thumb of a Primordial deity with unlimited power over darkness and no vulnerabilities to exploit. You Winchesters have a perfect record in stopping apocalypses, and Mr. Jackson here is 2-0 himself. As a man betting on his own self-interests, I have faith that you lot are my Secretariat.”

The Winchesters and Percy traded glances, and all seemed to conclude that Crowley’s explanation was valid enough. Percy also acknowledged that he could be a useful source of information, and it was looking very likely that they would soon need all the help they could get.

With a nod from Dean, Percy dropped his sword and willed the ice chains to melt back into water. Crowley shivered and rubbed his hands together for warmth when the water evaporated into the air.

“As much as I love our little chats, I hope we can have more decorum moving forward.” Crowley said smoothly, nervous eyes betraying him as he glanced at Percy’s sword.

“Yeah, so what exactly are you offering here? So far it sounds like you want us to go up against the forces of Night while you hide.” Sam questioned; arms crossed as he leaned his hip against the table.

“Well Moose, I am offering information and cooperation in return for being protected from sinister forces beyond my control. I trust you boys to handle the situation, and as I have not yet informed Hecate of my hesitance, I can offer insider information.” Crowley proposed, smug.

Percy considered his offer. While it would be helpful to have an inside man, he didn’t trust the Brit as far as he could throw him, and demigod strength was no laughing matter. He didn’t doubt for a second that Crowley would double cross them if he could stand to gain.

Dean seemed to be of the same mind and joined Percy to stand shoulder to shoulder, twin green glares focused on Crowley.

“We recently learned of an oath that when broken, has consequences worse than death.” Dean drawled. “If you’re so keen to bet on us, you wouldn’t mind swearing on the Styx that you’ll back us, right?” He smirked at Crowley.

Percy suddenly had a rush of fondness towards Dean and his clever proposition. Not only had he been paying attention to Percy’s words, but he was creative in boxing in Crowley to pledge his loyalty or face dire consequences. Based on his limited information on Dean’s past and the prophecy, Percy figured out that Dean had picked up on how to deal with crossroads demons. He was smart to weaponize the negotiation against someone so experienced with making life-altering deals.

Crowley paled but looked undeterred. “I swear on the river Styx to aid the Winchesters and Perseus Jackson by providing relevant details pertaining to the coming conflict. I also swear to act in the best interests of the parties involved.”

Percy’s eye twitched as he considered the vagueness and possible loopholes by which Crowley could circumvent his oath, but he figured that this was the best they were going to get from him, and they could benefit from his information.

Sam looked particularly unsettled, and Percy recalled Dean mentioning that he was pre-law at one point. He had most certainly realized the issues that could arise from Crowley’s lack of specificity.

Dean raised an eyebrow at Crowley but shook his hand regardless.

“So, Crowley, tell us what you know.”

Chapter Text

Crowley stuck around long enough to give a brief description of the knowledge he was privy too, but his understanding of more complicated details was unfortunately sparse. Sam was characteristically fascinated by the overlap between Greek deities and their brand of supernatural monsters, but Dean was more concerned with the implications of a primordial creature calling the shots from the deepest part of hell because she was bored.

Percy had been unnervingly silent as Crowley relayed news of creatures drawn to the side of Night and her impending rise from Tartarus. He could see Percy tapping his foot against the legs of the table where he had taken of residence, sword not yet withdrawn into pen form.

Dean knew him well enough at this point that the main source of his nightmares was rooted in Tartarus. Percy had clearly had a hard enough time giving him a brief backstory that Dean was loathe to press him for more details, but he was clearly afraid of the pit. From their brief encounters with supernatural monsters, Dean didn’t take Percy as the kind to shrink from most creatures. He was as fearless as they come— tempting monsters with witty comebacks, drawing on his powers without breaking a sweat, whipping his blade around with eerie quickness.

Dean could tell that Percy was scared now. He was tapping an arhythmic beat with his scuffed sneakers, communicating in what almost seemed like morse code against the table. Dean listened for a second to his fingers to discern the message. Dot-dot, dot-dash-dot-dot, dash-dash-dash, dot-dot-dot-dash, dot, dah-dot-dash-dash, dash-dash-dash, dot-dot-dash.

Dean listened to the repeated message as it repeated five times until he realized he was spelling out ‘I love you’. He was doing it unconsciously, not even thinking about it. He made eye-contact with Percy and gestured to his hand with a question in his brow.

Percy glanced down at his fingers, now at rest. “Picked it up from Leo.” He murmured. “Nervous tick, I guess.”

Dean cleared his throat, picking up that Percy did not want to linger on that topic of conversation. He could tell that Crowley was growing tired of Sam’s inquisitive nature, and honestly, he was growing tired of the demon himself.

Sam finally looked up from the journal he was dutifully taking notes in and thankfully picked up on the tense atmosphere.

Crowley righted himself from where he had been leaning against the counter and brushed off his suit as if he was ridding himself of their presence.

“Well boys, this has been fun. Glad to be in business with you once again.” He straightened out his suit and snapped his fingers once in the air in a showy fashion. His fingers conjured a single gold coin that looked oddly familiar.

“I trust you’ll know what to do with this?” He extended the coin to Percy. Percy looked up at him but did not take the offered object. Crowley set the item on the table with a sigh. “Well, I would say it was a pleasure, but it never is with you lot. I’ll be in touch.” He vanished.

Once the demon left, Dean resumed cooking a hearty breakfast. He made more blue pancakes than he could imagine Percy being able to eat and brought up Sam’s less-than-ideal moments in an attempt to return the smile to the demigod’s face.

Finally, after a horrible retelling of Sam losing his shoe, the edge of Percy’s mouth quirked in something resembling a smile as he grabbed a plate and helped himself to a mountain of flapjacks.
After they had all eaten their fill (where was Percy putting all that food?), they meandered outside for another day of training. Dean was eager to witness Percy’s abilities again and rushed Sam to the yard in his excitement.

Dean had collected their new swords on his way out the door. He handed the slightly longer one to Sam and planted the tip of his own in the soil, handle sticking out of the ground.

Percy wandered the yard for a moment looking for something. He looked good in his ripped black jeans and faded grey Henley. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows and Dean could appreciate how it made his forearms look. His eyes reflected the clear sky, the almost bluish green reminiscent of the calm sea.

He had reached a circle of rocks on the side of the yard that looked to be an old well that had collapsed. He stopped and flicked his wrist once, then nodded to himself.

“Alright Perce. Whatcha got for us today?” He asked, arms crossed over his chest and eyebrow raised in smirking challenge.

Percy turned and took a few steps back towards them, standing ten yards away in a casual stance. “Well gentlemen, I know you’ve seen me use my powers a bit, but these monsters we’re up against aren’t going to hold back, so neither can I. You guys need to either keep up or get out of the way when the fighting starts because I’m not going to be pulling my punches.” Percy stated confidently.

“You sound awfully sure of yourself. I bet we can keep up.” Dean goaded. He nodded to Sam and retrieved his sword. He raised it and readied himself in an attack stance that he had learned from Percy the day before.

Percy still relaxed, still weaponless, brought forward his hand in a beckoning motion. Sam and Dean exchanged looks and Dean shrugged. If Percy wanted to be cocky, Dean had no issue with pressing their advantage. He gestured with his eyes to Sam and they rushed Percy, Dean taking the front approach and Sam side-stepping to attack Percy from behind.

Now just a few feet from Percy, Dean swung his sword in an arch aimed at Percy’s side, unsure if he should be attacking him while he was still unarmed. That turned out not to be an issue. Dean noticed the water tendril curling up his right arm too late. Faster than it should’ve been possible the water shot out from his hand and formed a sword of solid ice. Percy swiftly blocked the oncoming strike, Riptide coming out of nowhere in his other hand.

He forced Dean’s sword down, but Dean twisted, narrowly missing a jab from the icicle sword. Dean feinted to his right then pivoted, hoping to slice into Percy’s nondominant side. Percy dodged effortlessly, ducking under a swing behind him from Sam with ease. He conjured a dozen spikes of ice and sent them hurling toward Sam, forcing him to duck and roll.

Trying to take advantage of Percy’s distraction, Dean swiped his leg to knock him off balance. Before his foot made contact, a ribbon of water latched onto his ankle like rope and yanked him back. He recovered into a crouch just before Percy rushed him. Dean barely countered his first strike, metal reverberating loudly through the yard. Percy followed with a barrage of swings; it was taking all of Dean’s concentration to block both of Percy’s swords as he attacked.

The force behind each blow was only increasing and Dean made a desperate lunge to disarm him of his ice sword but swung at nothing as the weapon suddenly vaporized. He didn’t even have time to wonder where the water went as Percy locked Riptide with his sword and twisted, dislodging it from his hand. Percy’s front was pressed into his back, and he held the newly reappeared ice sword to Dean’s throat, the bronze sword bent to keep his wrist locked against his chest.

Percy leaned close and breathed into Dean’s ear. “Yield.” He said simply. Dean tried to stop his whole-body shiver and disguised it by struggling against the hold. His efforts were reward with Riptide swinging up to slice a small cut on his cheek.

“Yield.” He demanded again.

Dean saw Sam approaching out of the corner of his eye and gritted his teeth, tensing against the hold. “No,” he said as he stamped his foot down on Percy’s, ducking and rolling out of his hold as Sam swung at Percy.

Percy blocked with his bronze sword, meeting Sam blow for blow with his right hand while his left was raised and clenched. Dean noticed the wind picking up and clouds forming in his periphery, the sunny sky quickly darkening.

As he turned to engage Percy again, he barely had time to think ‘Oh shit!’ when a sheet of solid water slammed into him. He crashed to the ground, cursing as he spit out a chunk of grass.

He looked up just in time to see Percy judo flip his massive brother over his shoulder with far too little difficulty. Sam struggled to get up from the ground and Dean realized that not only were ropes of water keeping him down, but the wind was whipping around viciously, forming a cyclone.

Rain was pouring down torrentially now, sheets of water that kept knocking into Dean, forcing him to stay close to the ground. Through the storm Dean could see the gales circling Percy like his own personal thunderstorm.

Percy fucking Jackson had created a hurricane in rural Pennsylvania.

Over the roaring of the storm, the sudden fluttering of wings was almost inaudible. Dean only recognized it because it was so familiar to him. Cas materialized just outside the eye of the hurricane and raised his angel blade to Percy in a defensive stance.

The challenge in Cas’s striking blue eyes was unmistakable. His trench coat was flapping about in the wind and his perpetually ruffled hair was being blown even more askew.

His eyes had been closed as he conjured the storm, but they shot open, glowing an almost poisonous shade of green as Percy moved to block Cas’s first strike.

The wind was only blowing faster. Dean could barely keep his eyes open as sheet after sheet of water splashed in his face as he army crawled over to Sam. Percy and Cas were trading blows faster than his eyes could track, both of them moving with inhuman grace and agility.

He reached Sam and they shuffled over to a rock to take cover. “Should we stop them?” Sam hollered over the storm; his voice barely heard over the roaring winds.

Dean was not keen to get in the middle of the cage match going on in the eye of the hurricane; he was pretty sure he would torn apart if he even tried to get close. He tried to see what was going on, eyes open as much as he dared. He couldn’t see Cas’s wings, only the shadows lit up by occasional strikes of lightning. The dark shadows were extended to the full width of his wingspan as he flew around Percy. Percy’s feet were no longer on the ground either, he appeared to be surfing on waves of water as he fought.

An unbidden memory of one of their first conversations popped into Dean’s mind. Huh, guess he was good at surfing.

Silver blade met bronze in a clang that penetrated the rushing winds. Cas was lucky he was bulletproof; the shards of ice had ripped through most of his coat and shredded his blue tie. Cas feinted a jab and caught Percy off guard as he spun around. Dean was sure that Percy was done for as Cas locked the hilts of their blades and held them to Percy’s throat. Dean had first-hand experience with angel strength and knew that there was no way Percy could overcome such brute force as the blades were pressed even tighter.

From this far away his voice was inaudible over the wind, but Cas was clearly demanding him to yield. Percy twisted in his hold and let out a yell, surprising Cas. A shockwave burst from the center of the storm.

The ground rolled under Dean in the wake of the wave of energy and his hand gripped Sam’s shoulder to keep steady. Cas had been blasted out of the eye of the storm, and Percy wasted no time. Two massive hands of solid water encased the angel, solidifying on the edges. Ice manacles wrapped around Cas’s wrists, forcing him to drop his blade, delivered to Percy’s outstretched hand by a ribbon of water. Cas’s eyes glowed almost too brightly, and the shadows of his wings flared as he struggled to escape. Percy kept up the heavy downpour, and Cas continued to struggle getting his bearings.

“YIELD!” Percy shouted at the flailing angel. He tried to wriggle out of the water’s hold for moments that dragged on, but eventually sagged and mumbled something unintelligible with the barrage of water pelting his face. Percy noticed the issue and the monsoon lessened into a light drizzle, freeing Castiel to verbalize acquiescence.

He coughed out water. “I yield,” said Cas, his voice an even rougher low rumble than before.

Percy released the giant fists of water and dropped to the ground, hands waving away the storm. Cas fell to earth as well, landing on one knee in a superhero pose.

Both angel and demigod heaved to catch their breath, Cas still coughing up the rest of the water. Dean was praying that they remembered they were on the same team and that that was just a friendly spar. If those two got into a fight for real Dean feared they could level the state.

Dean and Sam pulled themselves up on the boulder they had sheltered behind. (Dean did not hide! He was not afraid of a storm or of Percy! He just didn’t have a death wish, okay?)

He was hesitant to approach the two duelists and instead took in the destruction around the field. Fortunately, Percy had kept the storm fairly contained— at least the house was untouched, but he couldn’t say as much for the yard, the now nonexistent fence, or the surrounding trees. The grass was more mud than anything else and large branches scattered haphazardly in a ring. The scene was almost reminiscent of his grave site when Cas had resurrected him from Hell.

Percy stood from his resting position and approached Cas. He stopped in front of where Cas was still kneeling and held out a hand in a gesture to pull him to his feet.

“Not too bad, angel. You’re pretty good with a blade.” Percy praised. Cas grumbled but accepted the offered hand.

“Your control over your element is impressive.” Cas complimented begrudgingly as he was pulled up. “Your swordsmanship is unparalleled with what I have witnessed from demigods before.” A cocky grin appeared on Percy’s face until- “But I could still disarm you in a fair fight.” Cas goaded.

Percy dropped Cas’s hand. “You wish.”

Dean was eager to stop any further measuring contests from unfolding and picked himself off the ground. “Okay fellas, we get it! You can both kick some ass.” His boots squished as he made his way carefully over to the men, navigating the marsh-like yard cautiously.

“We’re all on the same team so—” Dean continued but stopped when Sam grabbed his arm. Years of hunting together culminated in the two brothers always picking up on each other’s signals. He could sense that something had just happened to trigger Sam’s alarm.

He turned to where Sam’s gaze was directed, picking up his discarded sword as he went. His gun was on the porch unfortunately, but with this new crowd of enemies maybe Percy was right in suggesting blade weapons. Afterall, he didn’t have those fancy bronze bullets on him.

Sam was focused on a blur of what seemed to be condensed shadows on the right side of the farmhouse, maybe a hundred feet away. A figure emerged from the darkness. Dean caught a glimpse of stark pale humanoid limbs and black faded jeans before the figure collapsed against the house.

“Psst—” He whispered to Percy and Cas. They had been too caught up with brushing off the remnants of their destructive fight to notice the blip on their peripheries.

Despite acknowledging that Percy was no novice to threats to his mortality (which Dean noted, was also questionable), he was quick to cover him. “Perce!” He whispered, nodding to Cas. “Get behind us!”

Percy looked up at him hesitating before he finally noticed what was causing them such concern.

He took stock of the semi-collapsed figure against the house, capped the top of his pen, and set off it that direction. Dean hoped he knew what he was doing otherwise he was going to kick his godly ass for putting himself in danger.

He, Sam, and Cas cautiously followed his lead, trailing a good ten feet behind him. Whatever or whoever it was clearly had gotten Percy excited and he quickened his pace.

When Percy reached the figure, he cried out, “Nico!” and hastened to lend his arm to support the creature. Guy, whatever. He came from the shadows. Dean wasn’t jealous. Shut up.

Percy emerged from the side of the house half carrying a young man. He was ghostly pale with jet black hair tufting up around the flipped-up collar of an old aviator jacket. He was completely clad in black with various silver chains attached to his jeans and several silver rings. The purple-bruise shaped bags under his eyes suggested that he hadn’t slept in perhaps years, or maybe his skin was so translucent that he always looked like that.

Overall, Dean was torn between being unimpressed by a new acquaintance and being wary of another harbinger of threats and bad news.

The man shrugged out of Percy’s grasp as he seemed to evaluate his new audience. He looked the three of them up and down, taking his time with each of them.

“Damn, Perce. Did I just shadow travel into a male model campaign?” The strange man said before promptly collapsing.

Guess they had a new friend. Great.