#pheobus apollo

"Dude, you can't keep letting her pick on you like that," preaches Luke as the two of you sit on a rock. What happened, you may ask? You decided it would be a good idea to give into Clarisse after she relentlessly harassed begged you. Rather than actually focusing on technique during your spar, she took the opportunity to beat the Hades out of you. “She’s a bully.”

White bandages slip out of your grasp as you feebly attempt to wrap your wound. While ambrosia and nectar would've done the job, you're wary with consumption as to not burn to a crisp. Luke takes your hand, doing it for you. Contempt swirls in his oak-hued eyes, he knows you're better than this.

"I shouldn't have believed her when she said she wanted to improve her technique. I let my guard down," you mutter. Annabeth tuts, turning to face the entrance of the woods. “She may be a little… rough around the edges, but she’s not a bad person.”

"You'd think that someone like you would notice that she is," she states, blunt as ever.

"Helpful input, Annabeth.”

"It's the truth." The girl shrugs, fresh braids (courtesy of you) draped down her back.

"Thanks for the help, guys," you say, clapping an injured hand over Luke's shoulder. "But I have to get going. Camp won't run itself."

"But it literally will--"

You're already out of range by the time either of them can make any sort of protest. As you walk through the dirt paths, surveying the behaviors of the campers that are out and about, a familiar stomping sound approaches. Great. Clarisse.

Before you can turn to face her, an angry fist hits you over the head.

"You idiot! Why didn't you tell me you fight like a toddler? I would've gone easy," she jabs your side rather hard, forcing you to fold in on yourself. "Can't have Chiron's favorite in the infirmary. It'd be a shame if you shriveled up and died from an ambrosia overdose." You simply brush her off, having much more important things to do. “C’mon, dude, you suck at swordfighting!”

“Why are you talking to me?”

The question seems to catch her off guard. Her playful stance shifts to one fueled by anger at your comment.

“Cuz who else here is stupid as you?” The girl scoffs, built arms crossed over her overly toned chest. This isn’t even fair.

“Goodbye, Clarisse,” You roll your eyes, hiking up the stairs of the Big House, shutting it behind you.

Darkness creeps into the corner of your visions as you lay in your bunk, eyes trained on the ceiling. The snores of your siblings fill the room, coupled with the shuffling of blankets. Just as you near dreamland, a loud thunk on your window jolts you awake. You grab the weapon under your pillow, startled. You groan, seeing the culprit. Clarisse stands at your window, eyes shifting around.

Reluctantly, you let her tumble into the cabin, forcing her to silence.

“Shh, you’re gonna wake them up.” She simply laughs, kicking her shoes off, and dropping into your bed. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Your voice is nothing more than a whisper, quiet as a breeze.

“Missed ya’.” The daughter of Ares snickers, grabbing your tired form and dragging you down with her.

“You can’t keep breaking into my cabin,” you insist, but she doesn’t listen. The two of you lay side by side, simply enjoying eachother’s company. “You’re like… too calm.” Clarisse snorts, curls draped over your blankets

“Shut up. Next time you won’t be so lucky. I’m exhausted from beating your ass all day.” She grabs you by the collar, planting an uncharacteristically gentle kiss on your cheek. Heat blooms in your face, creeping up your neck and touching your ears.

“Oh. Wow.”

She moves quick, tackling you in a kiss—this time on the lips. A hint of cherry chapstick touches your tastebuds as your situationship pulls away. It’s a fleeting feeling, her lips on yours, and you simply can’t get enough. She chuckles upon seeing the look on your face.

“I hate your stupid face.” Clarisse’s sudden words are laced with laughter, her fingertips gently brushing over the dip of your nose and the apples of your reddened cheeks.

Her pretty dark eyes stare into yours, thumbing over a bruise she left from sparring.

“Doesn’t seem it.”

The brutish girl props herself on her elbow, staring down at you with her gorgeous eyes, darkest browns dotted with celestial bronze, swirled with imperial gold in the low light.

She tucks a loose tuft of hair behind your ear, leaving down again to deliver another gentle kiss. “Mmh,” she hums, warm tongue prodding for entry. Warm summer air blows in, the window left agape. The scent of the strawberry fields and the last embers of the latest fire mix to form a pleasant smell, bathing the cabin.

Clarisse’s calloused hand cups your jaw, her tongue slipping into your mouth. The air between you only gets thicker, forcing the duo up for a quick breath.

“Thought you didn’t like the French,” you jest, deciding this is the time to poke fun—since you won’t end up with a goose egg. She shoves you around for a bit.

“Shut up. Stupid teacher’s pet.” She captures you in another kiss, fingers intertwined like the stars and the sky.

a/n