Climb (Percy Jackson x Reader)

twenty-two

— x —

(Y/N) and Mark return a few days later, materializing from a mass of shadow near the cabins. Percy jumps at the sound of raised voices.

Shouting, to be specific.

He rushes out of his cabin, looking to the clearing where an infuriated daughter of Persephone stands, her words ringing clearly enough to draw other campers to the scene.

"What the fuck do you not understand about the word 'no'?" she asks, her eyes wide with anger. Mark tries to defend himself, but (Y/N) cuts him off. "Mark, I did not let you tag along because I want to date you! This is not something I should have to spell out to you like you're a child! When I say 'don't touch me,' it means don't fucking touch me."

Percy's stomach begins to churn, the grip on his deck rail tightening.

"(Y/N), there was—"

"Nothing! There is nothing!" (Y/N) interrupts, the grass at her feet beginning to wither. "Besides, you do not, ever, have the right to believe that just because you want something, you can act on it without other people's permission."

The wood under Percy's hand splinters, leaving an indent of his hold. He ignores the blood that pricks at his skin.

Mark glances around at the gawking campers, and he lowers his voice while asking, "Look, do we have to do this now?"

(Y/N)'s eyebrows raise, and she lets out an incredulous laugh. The ring of dying grass extends farther. "Oh, sure. Let's do it when no one's around so that you won't be held accountable for not knowing what consent is."

Mark flushes red—Percy can't tell if the son of Ares feels embarrassment or anger, but he doesn't care. He steps off of his deck, moving closer to the interaction and watching carefully.

"You need to let go of whatever fantasy you have that makes you believe that you can do whatever you want. And you also need to get this into your head: I'm not interested in you."

Mark winces at the ice in (Y/N)'s words. "I'm sorry," he says, earning a scoff.

"Oh, you'd better be a hell of a lot more than sorry. You try to grab me, or anyone else, like that again, and I'll chop your arms off myself, you got that?"

Mark nods, fear swirling in his eyes. His muscles, however, tighten with evident restraint.

"Good," (Y/N) snaps, turning on her heel. She takes a few steps before turning to look at the son of Ares again.

"Also," she says, her fists clenched so tightly that they shake, "the next time you know that your dad has stolen something for his own greed, maybe don't fuck up the quest by keeping it to yourself, yeah? Ares doesn't need protection from someone as pathetic as you."

Mark's jaw clenches, and he watches, seething, as (Y/N) walks away from him. Clearly not thinking properly, he begins to move forward, as if determined to grab her to face him again. Percy crosses the distance, stopping in front of the son of Ares.

"Back off," he says, not faltering under Mark's fiery glare.

Mark scoffs. "Oh, so she needs your protection now?" he asks, and Percy lifts a brow.

"I think you need my protection right now," the son of Poseidon calmly responds, though the ground begins to rumble with rippling vibrations. "For your own sake, listen to me, and back off." His voice lowers as he adds: "I'm doing you a favor."

The son of Ares stiffens at Percy's tone, emphasized with mockery and reminiscent of their first meeting.

Mark takes a step forward, attempting to stare Percy down as he once used to. Back then, the son of Poseidon had been nearly a head shorter, thinner and more easily terrified.