Party 4 U- Percy Jackson x Dionysius Reader
"Hope you walk in the party 'Cause I threw the party just for you"
Warnings: alcohol / drinking, tipsy behavior, kissing, pre-relationship tension, mild suggestiveness, emotional vulnerability
You really should have known better than to host a party.
Not because you weren’t good at it.
No—if anything, that was the problem.
You were too good at it.
The music pulsed through the cabin, laughter spilling over itself, voices overlapping in that warm, messy way that meant everyone was having just a little too much fun. Lights flickered low and golden, shadows soft, everything blurred just enough to feel unreal.
And you—
You were past tipsy.
Not gone.
Not out of control.
Just… loose.
Floaty.
Bold in the way alcohol made you—like consequences were something that happened to other people.
“Okay,” you said, pointing at absolutely no one in particular, “I am completely fine.”
A Hermes kid snorted into his drink.
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s always when it’s bad.”
You turned slowly.
Squinted at him.
“I am offended,” you informed him.
“You should be,” he replied easily.
You waved him off, already distracted—because something had shifted.
That feeling.
That pull.
And when you looked up—
Oh.
There he was.
Percy Jackson.
Standing near the edge of the room like he didn’t quite belong in it. Like he’d wandered into chaos and hadn’t decided yet if he should stay or leave.
And he was looking at you.
Not casually.
Not politely.
Looking.
You smiled.
Slow.
Sharp.
“Well,” you murmured to yourself. “That’s interesting.”
Percy knew, immediately, that this was a mistake.
Not the party.
Not even staying.
No—the mistake was looking at you.
Because now he couldn’t stop.
You looked like something out of a dream—or maybe a bad decision he was absolutely going to make. The red shimmer of your skirt caught the light every time you moved, your boots loud and confident against the floor, your makeup just slightly smudged like the night had already gotten its hands on you.
You looked—
Happy.
Alive.
Dangerous.
“…you’re staring again,” Grover muttered beside him.
“I’m not—”
“You are.”
Percy dragged a hand down his face.
“I’m leaving,” he said.
He did not move.
Because—
“Jackson.”
He froze.
You were right in front of him.
Too close.
Too bright.
Too aware.
“Hi,” you said, tilting your head, eyes just a little unfocused but very, very sharp underneath it. “You came.”
“I—yeah,” he said. “You… invited everyone.”
“And you came,” you repeated, like that part mattered more.
Percy swallowed.
“…yeah.”
You studied him.
Then stepped closer.
He didn’t move back.
That was his second mistake.
“You’re staring,” you said quietly.
“You noticed.”
“I always notice.”
Your hand came up—light, deliberate—fingertips brushing his shirt, then flattening against his chest like you were testing something.
Percy went very still.
“You look nervous,” you added.
“I’m not nervous.”
“You are.”
“I’m not—”
“You are,” you repeated, softer now, leaning in just slightly. “You’re doing that thing where you pretend you’re not, but you are.”
“…what thing?”
“That thing,” you said, tapping his chest once, “where you want something and you’re trying very hard to be good instead.”
Percy blinked.
“…I don’t—”
“You do,” you said, smiling faintly. “You’re very obvious, Percy Jackson.”
That did something to him.
Something quiet.
Something real.
His hand lifted—hesitated—then settled lightly at your waist.
“Maybe,” he said slowly, “you’re just easy to look at.”
Your breath hitched.
Just slightly.
Good.
“You’re still staring,” you whispered.
“You’re still standing too close.”
“Maybe I like standing too close.”
“…that sounds like a bad idea.”
“Yeah,” you said. “It does.”
Neither of you moved.
The space between you felt—
Charged.
Not loud.
Not chaotic.
Just… there.
Real.
And then you swayed.
Just a little.
Percy’s hand tightened instantly.
“Okay,” he said. “How much have you had?”
You blinked at him.
“…enough.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I’m fine,” you said, nodding once like that settled it.
You took a step.
Then another.
Then leaned—entirely—into him.
Percy caught you before you even realized you were falling.
“Yeah,” he said. “No, you are not fine.”
“I am so fine,” you insisted, gripping his shirt for balance. “You’re just—moving.”
“I’m not moving.”
“You are. Everything is.”
“…that’s worse.”
You smiled up at him.
Soft.
Unbothered.
“Walk me back,” you said.
Percy didn’t hesitate.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Okay.”
The walk back was slow.
Not because Percy wanted it to be.
But because you kept—
Stopping.
Laughing.
Pointing at things that did not matter.
Leaning into him like he was the only thing keeping the world steady.
“I can walk,” you insisted.
“You are currently not walking.”
“I am walking,” you argued, immediately tripping over nothing.
Percy caught you again.
“Okay,” he said. “New plan. You’re not in charge of walking anymore.”
You huffed.
“Rude.”
“Accurate.”
You looked up at him.
Really looked this time.
Your expression softened.
“You’re pretty,” you said.
Percy nearly dropped you.
“I—what?”
“You are,” you said, very serious. “Your face. It’s nice.”
“…thank you?”
“You’re welcome.”
You leaned your head briefly against his shoulder as you kept walking.
“…you stayed,” you added.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t like parties.”
“I like… making sure people get home okay.”
You hummed.
“…that’s very hero of you.”
Percy shook his head slightly.
“…not everything is about being a hero.”
“Mm,” you murmured. “No. Sometimes it’s about staying.”
He didn’t answer that.
But his grip on you tightened just slightly.
Your cabin was quiet when you got back.
Percy guided you inside, helping you sit on the edge of your bed.
“Okay,” he said. “Stay there.”
“I am staying,” you said.
“You are barely sitting.”
“Details.”
He huffed a quiet laugh, kneeling in front of you.
“Boots,” he said.
“Oh,” you said, lifting your leg dramatically. “Take them off, my knight.”
“…you are unbelievable.”
“Correct.”
But he did it anyway.
Careful.
Gentle.
Setting them aside before looking up at you again.
Your makeup was smudged.
Glitter still clung stubbornly to your skin.
You looked—
Messy.
Soft.
Beautiful.
Percy reached for a cloth.
“Hold still.”
You didn’t.
But you tried.
His fingers were careful as he wiped under your eyes, brushing glitter away, thumb grazing your cheek for just a second too long.
You watched him.
Quiet now.
Focused.
“…you’re staring again,” he murmured.
“You’re close,” you replied.
“…that’s not helping.”
You leaned forward.
He froze.
Your lips brushed his.
Soft.
Quick.
Gone.
You blinked.
Then leaned back.
“…oh,” you said.
Percy stared at you.
“…yeah.”
You frowned slightly.
“That was—”
“A bad idea,” he said.
You nodded.
“…yeah.”
A pause.
Then Percy said—
“…we’re doing that again.”
You laughed softly.
“Yeah,” you agreed.
And this time—
You kissed him properly.
Slow.
Warm.
A little unsteady.
But real.
So real it made your chest ache.
When you pulled back, your fingers caught in his shirt.
“…don’t go.”
Percy didn’t hesitate.
“I’m not.”
You fell asleep fast.
Still holding onto him.
Still tangled in his shirt like if you let go he might disappear.
Percy stayed.
Sat beside your bed.
Letting you keep hold of him.
At some point, his head tipped back against the chair.
Eyes closing.
Still there.
Still holding your hand.
Morning came gently.
Too bright.
Too quiet.
You groaned, rolling slightly—
—and paused.
Warmth.
Close.
You blinked your eyes open.
Percy Jackson was asleep in the chair next to your bed.
Still sitting upright.
Head tilted.
Hand still in yours.
Something in your chest twisted.
“…you idiot,” you whispered.
He’d stayed.
All night.
Like that.
You pushed yourself up slowly, careful not to wake him.
Studied him for a second.
Then—
Made a decision.
You stood.
Still a little unsteady.
And stepped closer.
“…Percy,” you murmured.
No response.
Still asleep.
“…Percy,” you tried again, softer this time.
Nothing.
You sighed.
“Okay. Fine. We’re doing this the hard way.”
You took his hand.
Pulled.
He did not move.
You frowned.
“…you are heavier than you look.”
You tugged harder.
Percy stirred slightly, brow furrowing—but didn’t wake.
You braced yourself.
Then—
Pulled him up.
He stumbled.
Half-awake.
“…what—?”
“Bed,” you said. “Move.”
“I’m—awake—”
“You are not awake.”
“I am—”
“You are talking nonsense. Get in the bed.”
Percy blinked at you.
Then at the bed.
Then back at you.
“…okay.”
He let you guide him.
Which was honestly a mistake on his part.
Because the second he hit the mattress—
You climbed in too.
Curled up beside him.
And grabbed his shirt again.
“…there,” you murmured, satisfied.
Percy blinked.
“…what just happened?”
“You stayed,” you said, voice soft. “So now you get to be comfortable.”
A pause.
“…you dragged me into your bed.”
“Yes.”
“…okay.”
Another pause.
“…we kissed,” you added.
Percy exhaled slowly.
“…yeah.”
You looked up at him.
Eyes clearer now.
Less haze.
More real.
“That was a bad idea,” you said.
Percy nodded.
“…terrible.”
Silence.
Then—
“…do you want to do it again?” he asked.
You smiled.
Soft.
Certain.
“…yeah.”
And this time—
Neither of you pretended it was a mistake.
