Chapter Text
The truck rattles through early Las Vegas traffic, accompanied by the sounds of honking cars and road rage. It almost makes him homesick. Every so often the truck lurches, sending Percy and Annabeth’s elbows knocking on their makeshift hay bench, but neither of them moves away.
Percy squirms in his seat. There was hay where there definitely should not be hay, but he supposes it was still better than sitting on the hard flatbed. Or in a cage. He winces looking at the animals braying and pacing in their small crates - for a company called “Kindness International” this seemed pretty inhumane. A zebra gives him a baleful eye, almost like it could read his thoughts… Weird.
Then Annabeth flips a coin and things get even weirder.
“So, Ares, huh? What was that like?” Luke asks, his voice distorted from the rainbow…projection…thing? Demigod facetime, basically, but he's pretty sure Annabeth would hit him if he said that. If she even knows what that is. But to answer Luke's question...
He shares a wary look with Annabeth. “Well. Compared to the Chimera on Monday and Medusa on Sunday, could’ve been a lot worse,” Percy says flippantly. What’s next on the deadly agenda? Brunch with a cyclops? Tea with the hydra?
“Medusa was Saturday,” Annabeth interrupts, always the first to correct him. But he could've sworn...
“I thought Sunday?” Percy furrows his brow in confusion.
Annabeth shakes her head nonplussed. “No monsters on Sunday. Monday you dived in the river,” she reminds him matter-of-factly, as if he could forget.
Percy hopes they can get to Santa Monica and finish this quest soon - the days are starting to blur together. Still, he trusts Annabeth's memory more than his own.
“Right, so, Medusa on Saturday…” Percy hedges, when Luke clears his throat. Percy whips his head around, feeling caught out for some reason - he almost forgot Luke was there.
“Guys, what is this?” Luke asks incredulously.
“What?” they say at the same time. Jinx.
“When did you turn into an old married couple?”
Um. Percy’s brain short circuits.
Him and Annabeth? He knows they’ve gotten closer since the Tunnel of Love - it’s kind of hard not to when you’ve already tried to sacrifice yourself for the other like, twice, in the span of five days. But he thinks “married couple” is an exaggeration - Luke is probably just being protective because Annabeth is his little sister. That must be it.
“Not to change the subject, but I’m gonna-”
What can he say, subtlety was never his strong suit. He tries asking Luke for advice on his dad but before he can finish, Annabeth jerks the prism out of the light, cutting the connection like you would slam a flip phone. What the heck?
They start bickering (not like an old married couple) when Grover returns from the front of the truck to update them on the animal situation and how they’re going to free them with the power of opposable thumbs. Percy bites down a sarcastic retort when Grover starts describing them as “artists” like they're Jackson Pollock or something - he knows this is important to his friend.
Suddenly, their truck driver decides to slam on his breaks, skidding to jerky halt which is just rude. Percy's stomach flips as he's sent airborne before smashing into something metal and pointy. Why couldn't he have landed on the hay?
He realizes belatedly that he grabbed the nearest thing to him in an attempt to stop the fall. Which so happens to be Annabeth. Oops?
So there he is, sandwiched against a zebra cage with Annabeth’s nose smushed against his collarbone - still not the weirdest thing that's happened this week. Percy looks around. Grover, in a stroke of bad luck, had crashed next to the lion who is probably imagining tasty satyr for lunch. They might free that one last.
Just as they regain their footing the truck lurches forward, sending them toppling again. They do land on the hay this time, which is the good news. The bad news is he also landed on Annabeth, who is now muttering Greek curses under her breath.
Percy groans against her shoulder. Seriously, could these guys be any worse drivers? Even he could probably do better.
He and Annabeth extricate themselves from their tangle of limbs. It's a lot of "Move your arm-", "sorry!", and "Percy-" but they get the job done. Annabeth has a piece of hay stuck in her braids and Percy pulls it off without thinking.
Bad move. Annabeth steps back, putting a few feet between them like he burned her. She's not meeting his eyes.
Percy flounders. He's trying to come up with a joke, anything to break this weird tension, but she's already stomping away to the other side of the truck. Apparently even a lion is better company than him.
Great job, Jackson. Here he thought they were really starting to get along, but now he's gone and messed it up and he's not even totally sure what he did.
Percy looks back at the zebra in commiseration. They're both having a rough morning, after all.
She’ll come around, boss. She’s just embarrassed, he hears the zebra respond in his head. That actually makes him feel a bit better. He wonders if-
Wait. WHAT.
“Grover, why didn’t you tell me I can talk to zebras?!”