Chapter Text
Leo’s POV
Leo woke with a start, reaching out beside him in search of his girlfriend. His hand met only air. He tumbled out of bed and was half dressed before the panic subsided enough to remember where he was: floor three of the Big House.
Chiron had converted the middle floors into an “alumni wing” two summers earlier as a way to accommodate the unprecedented number of demigods now making it to adulthood. Sally Jackson had been the one to suggest it, sending Chiron a photo of her living room littered with snoozing coeds one Christmas. On the back she had written, “Are these yours?”
Chiron got the message.
Leo led the renovations prior to his pit stop in Ogygia, modeling the rooms after the Argo II. Each room was small, containing a bed, a desk, and a closet along with a shelf for various keepsakes and talismans. The one major upgrade was the private bathroom, something Leo had insisted on. In total, there were 30 rooms, 15 on each floor. An ambitious number to be sure, but not unrealistic given current circumstances.
At the time, Leo hadn’t thought much of Chiron’s “one demigod to a room, no exceptions” rule. Now, after 6 weeks of sleeping two rooms away from Calypso, he was over it.
“She’s not a demigod!” Leo argued, walking with Chiron down to breakfast. “She’s a mortal. So we would technically be only one demigod to a room.”
He could tell Chiron wasn’t buying it.
“A compelling argument. If only I cared about the technicality.”
“Mr. D agrees with me.”
“Of course he does. He’s the god of wanton debauchery. If he had his way, he’d put you all in one big room and fill it slowly with wine. Or turn you into a dolphin.”
Leo shuddered. He knew Chiron was right, but sleeping alone after months of constant company was harder than he expected. Calypso wasn’t having any easier of a time. Leo and Chiron found her at the guest table, struggling to keep her head up.
“Morning, sunshine,” Leo said, sitting in front of her. “Sleep any better last night?”
Calypso shook her head, blinking slowly.
“See,” Leo said, turning to Chiron. “She needs me. You’re torturing the poor girl.”
“What she needs is some peace and quiet,” Chiron said, giving Leo a pointed look before turning back to Calypso. “I take it none of the noise dampening efforts have worked?”
“No,” Calypso said, yawning, “but thank you. It’s really okay. I’m sure I’ll get used to it…eventually.”
Leo wasn’t so sure. He had done his best to prepare Calypso for the real world during their 2 weeks at sea. They covered all the basics: wearing clothes, talking to strangers, modern technology. It turned out to be a rather incomplete crash course. Calypso spent her first week at camp yelping in surprise any time she turned a corner and saw…anyone. And then, of course, there was the noise. Ogygia hadn’t been silent by any means, but it was quiet. The only noises were produced by nature. Camp Halfblood, in comparison, was full of people. Teenagers, to be specific. Teenagers who yelled and whistled and laughed and fell from flaming rock walls. Curfew helped, but there were still nymphs and satyrs roaming around. After millennia of listening for heroes washing ashore, Calypso found it impossible to sleep through even the faintest footstep.
Chiron and Leo had done their best to soundproof her room. Leo even built a small white noise machine with the help of some Apollo campers. Nothing worked.
“Well,” Leo said, reaching across the table to take her hand, “one more week and then we can be out of here.”
“Construction is going well, I take it?” Chiron asked.
Leo nodded. He had spent the years after the war traveling the country with Festus and picking up odd jobs between various quests and godly errands. He did any mechanical work he could get his hands on. This included a brief stint with a Formula One team that lasted until they were forced to let him go for something involving “illegal upgrades” and “things you shouldn’t even be able to do to a car.” It was a shame, he had enjoyed that one.
Sally and Paul had helped him get a bank account set up, but it’s not like Leo had any way to check it. It wasn’t until he came back with Calypso that he learned how much he had in there.
It was…a lot. Enough for a modest plot of land on the North Fork of Long Island, straight across the bay from Camp Halfblood, with just enough left over to restore the run down old cottage at the edge of the property line. Every morning, Leo would sail across the bay, work until sunset, and then come back in time for dinner. Calypso had joined him at first, but the sleep deprivation quickly made her more of a liability than an asset. Leo tried to sneak some Cabin 9 campers over with him to speed things along but they barely made it two feet before being overrun with monsters.
Thankfully, he had convinced Hazel to make a quick trip on the Nico-Shadow-Express to do some mist bending for him. As far as his neighbors could tell, the lovely young couple had hired a full team of contractors and landscapers to bring the place back to life. And yes, that creek had always been there. In reality, Leo had worked like a madman getting everything ready with only the help of Festus and a handful of other mechanical assistants he had whipped up over the years.
“What’s left?” Calypso mumbled, eyes drifting shut for a moment.
“Piper gets here today,” Leo said, “she’s going to help with the finishing touches.”
Calypso muttered her vague approval, lowering her head onto the table.
“Should I let her sleep?” Leo whispered, turning to Chiron.
The centaur nodded, motioning for Leo to leave.
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” he said, keeping his booming voice as quiet as possible, “better let her get some rest when she can.”
Leo nodded and stood gingerly, freezing every time Calypso twitched. He eventually managed to extricate himself from the bench and hurried back up to the Big House.
Piper was already waiting for him on the porch when he arrived.
“Leo!” She shouted, tackling him before he could reach the steps.
“Hi, Piper,” Leo said, wincing at her vice grip on his torso.
“You are the most annoying person alive,” she said, voice muffled by his chest.
“Good to see you too.”
“If I hear you died one more time I swear to gods…”
Leo laughed, wriggling away from her violent embrace.
“No more dying,” he said, “and no more telling you if I do.”
As usual, Piper looked great. She was in gray sweatpants with “NYU” written down the sides in bold navy letters, black converse, and a tight black tank top. She had her waist length hair slicked back into two braids and her usual simple jewelry: thin silver hoop earrings and her Camp Halfblood necklace. No one could accuse her of wasting time on her appearance, but she had at least stopped trying to actively sabotage it.
“How’s school?” Leo asked. “Write the next great American novel yet?”
“Please,” Piper rolled her eyes. “I’d like to go just one day without hearing that particular phrase.”
Piper was in her second year of NYU’s creative writing program. She had thrown herself into her cabin leader duties after the war and subsequent breakup with golden boy Jason Grace. She had also given up on school, opting instead to be a year-round resident. Once her tenure was up, she found herself adrift, splitting time between Reyna’s couch and her father’s guest room until one of them convinced her to get a job doing literally anything.
The rest of the story was, well, very Piper. She found that tip work was particularly lucrative for her and took a job as a barista. That particular coffee shop hosted a writing group every Friday and she took a liking to them. All of them. After an unspecified series of events, she discovered her passion for writing was even stronger than her passion for writers. Turns out, NYU is willing to overlook a missing high school diploma if you’re getting published in The Paris Review at 19.
“So,” Piper said, “what’s this favor you need?”
“The house is almost done. It just needs a little…design help.”
“Leo…”
“I know! But I’m not asking because you’re a daughter of Aphrodite. I’m asking because I like your apartment.”
Leo was being truthful. Piper shared a two bedroom in SoHo with Will Solace while Will attended medical school, also at NYU. No one was allowed to question how those two managed to both acquire and afford an $8,000 a month apartment, but between Piper’s charmspeak and Will’s lord of the dead boyfriend, it was easy to put together a theory. The two had filled the place with funky antique furniture and paintings courtesy of their artistically inclined oracle, Rachel.
Leo fixed Piper with his best “please help me” eyes.
“Fine,” Piper relented. “I will spend my spring break decorating your house. But only so you stop making that face.”
“So you’re saying the face worked.”
“It certainly had…an effect.”
“You never stood a chance.”
Piper rolled her eyes, laughing. “Come on, let’s go see what we’re working with.”