Chapter Text
So, the world was ending.
Well, not quite literally ending, but it certainly felt that way to Apollo.
You see, Apollo had started his day in his sun chariot. He'd been feeling godly and stylish, so he’d put it in Maserati mode and took off across the sky in a blaze. He’d been enjoying the free air and what would totally be a great day for mortals. At least, for all of the mortals who arose to see the sunrise. Likely not so much for the lazier mortals who enjoyed ‘sleeping in’ and ‘staying inside.’ Those mortals probably would not have a good day, and Apollo suspected they rarely did. Apollo never understood how some mortals could spend all of their time inside, when there was so much to enjoy outdoors.
The world-ending problem arose while he was driving. He'd begun to feel a little… ill.
Well, perhaps a bit more than just ‘ill,’ as he’d suddenly felt the onset of nausea, causing him to thrust his head outside the window of his glorious maserati and heave until liquid spilled out of his mouth. Unfortunately, some godly vomit had hit the side of the car, leaving a disgraceful streak on the door.
This simply… doesn’t happen. Gods don't get ill. Especially not Apollo– he was the god of healing! Apollo hadn’t felt this sick since the time that he’d been turned mortal– a time he was glad was over with. (In hindsight, maybe his time as a mortal hadn’t been all bad- but he was sure glad to have his godhood restored again).
So yeah, Apollo felt disgustingly sick, and had vomited down the side of his nice golden gleaming Maserati. The world was ending.
Not only did Apollo feel sick, but he also felt strangely cold. He shivered, clutching at his abdomen as nausea and stomach cramps wreaked havoc on him. Apollo decided that maybe today actually isn’t the day to have a joy ride in his Maserati– so, he hurriedly landed the car over somewhere hopefully private, feeling nauseated as he did so. He would have rode to Delos to ensure privacy- but, strangely enough, the movement of his chariot made him even more sick to stomach. He made an emergency landing and parked the car in some kind of parking lot, instead of the safe and secure sanctuary of Delos.
Apollo’s stomach churned. He pulled himself out of the car as it landed (in a very composed, godlike manner, if anyone were to ask–) as he took several steps forward, then decided that laying on the pavement would simply be a better idea. He certainly has not collapsed- gods do not collapse from sickness onto the pavement of a dirty store parking lot. Perhaps he should have remained in his Maserati…
He promptly moaned, rolled over, and pushed upwards off of the ground, staggering forward, while clutching his abdomen.
This was worrying.
The place he'd landed his gleaming chariot was truly dreadful, but at least he couldn't sense any other gods around. He would never hear the end of it if any of them found out. Especially not his sister. He appeared to be in the back of a shopping center parking lot, the store Target in front of him, connected to some other smaller stores. He always did like Target stores; not that he really had cared for anything they sold (he honestly doesn't know what they sold- bows, maybe?) but instead, he liked the massive store chain simply because it had been named in his honor, as the God of Archery. Obviously.
Now if only their parking lots were nicer…
Perhaps, when he recovers from his sudden bout of sickness- he’d smite whoever owned this store for not having a parking lot worthy of him. Though, he supposed it could be worse. He could be at a– Apollo shivered– Walmart.
Apollo was taken out of his thoughts by a car door slamming next to him. As he looked towards the sudden loud sound, he froze, dread falling over him.
Percy Jackson stood next to his Toyota Prius with his arms crossed, having apparently just slammed the car door. Had Apollo not been distracted by his sudden onslaught of sickness, he would have noticed Percy nearby– Percy’s aura matched one of a minor god, his aura being stronger than any other demigod that Apollo had met— and yet, Apollo had missed that he’d apparently landed his sun chariot in the same parking lot as Percy Jackson. It was an odd coincidence.
Percy shifted his weight, leaning onto one leg. “What do you want?” he asked, though his tone of voice was not enthused.
“Oh, Percy! It’s been awhile, hasn’t it?” Apollo asked, putting on a cheerful voice as he stood straight and did his best to pretend that his insides didn’t feel like they would soon be on his outside.
“I’m serious- what do you want, Apollo? If you’re asking me to go on a quest for you- the answer’s no. I’m retired,” Percy persisted.
Percy’s tone felt unfair to Apollo. Apollo wondered if Percy too, must be feeling sick, because as far as he knew– Percy adored him, and obviously, he was Percy’s favorite god. Apollo liked to think that Percy liked him better than his own father, so he had no idea why Percy was suddenly being so rude to him.
Apollo shook his head. “Of course not! I didn’t even know you were here.”
“You mean to tell me you just happened to park close to me?” Percy asked, clearly not believing- or trusting- Apollo’s words.
As the god of truth, Apollo felt a bit hurt by that. But, he felt more hurt by the sudden stomach cramp that set upon him and caused bile to rise to the back of his throat.
“Yep,” Apollo stated simply. Usually, Apollo would have a much more eloquent dialogue than that, but he wasn’t convinced that he wasn’t going to vomit again. Speaking at all was making him feel more ill with each passing moment. And if he did expel some of his insides again– well, he’d much rather not do so in front of Percy Jackson.
Who, in return, studied Apollo closely. Percy opened his mouth, then closed it, as if debating whether to ask a question or not. Then, Percy sighed and asked, “alright, fine. I might regret asking, but why were you on the ground?”
Apollo’s heart shrank– he didn’t know Percy had seen that. He might consider wiping Percy’s memories of the incident if he were not– well, Percy Jackson the Untouchable. He didn’t feel like starting any wars today.
“I was getting inspiration for a new song,” the god of truths lied. It was a shoddy lie, and Apollo knew that he was definitely not on his A-game. Still, Apollo hoped Percy would believe it. Or, at least, he hoped Percy would decide it wasn’t worth his time and forget about the whole thing. It would be nice if Percy could simply wipe his own memory of the whole incident.
“Really? ‘Cause it looked to me like–” Percy began.
Apollo heaved and vomited onto the asphalt. He put his hand on the side of Percy’s Prius, bracing against it as the unsightly fluids were released from him. The fresh vomit had a golden glow to it, and Apollo recognized golden ichor mixed in the fluid. The ground sizzled under the spot he’d vomited– the puke burning a spot into the pavement. The lights in the nearby stores flickered, before returning to steady; and a nearby mortal voice could be heard complaining about the sudden lack of cell service.
Percy’s jaw dropped open momentarily, before snapping it shut and giving Apollo a look of pity. “You– you’re sick?” he asked, confusion in his features.
“Of course not,” Apollo stated confidently– or at least, he’d hoped it sounded confident. He couldn’t be sure, not really. At least not while he still had the taste of godly vomit in his mouth. Apollo felt tired, sluggish– in a way he hadn’t felt since his time spent as a mortal.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this. Taking care of a sick god was not in my vacation plans. I’m supposed to be retired from all of this stuff, you know?” Percy opened the back door of his Prius, gesturing for Apollo to sit down.
Apollo was slightly confused, wondering what Percy’s plan was. Did Percy intend to kidnap him? He would be foolish to do so- Apollo was sick, but still a god. Though, perhaps not, because this is Percy, and Percy did say he'd take care of him, whatever that means. As one of Percy’s trusted friends, he believed Percy wouldn’t use this opportunity to stab him in the back. He also didn’t have any reason to think that Percy didn’t absolutely adore him. So, he chose to trust Percy.
“If we are going somewhere, maybe we can take my chariot? It’s faster and it could–,” Apollo found himself being interrupted once again.
“Just get in the car, Apollo,” Percy instructed with annoyance, as he opened the driver’s side door and reached through to the passenger’s seat, where some groceries sat on the chair. Percy dumped his groceries out of the bags– which were a collection of flour, chocolate chips, sugar, and other baking supplies– then layered the grocery bags inside of each other and passed it to Apollo.
Apollo took ahold of the bags and sat down in the backseat of Percy’s Prius. It felt cramped, and he felt sad he couldn’t at least ride shotgun. He also wasn’t sure why Percy had just given him an offering of plastic grocery bags, though the unspoken question didn’t go unanswered for long.
“If you need to vomit, use the bags. If you puke in my car, you’re replacing it. With a car of my choosing,” Percy instructed.
Apollo wasn’t sure that the bags would work as Percy intended them to– as Apollo was confident he’d seen the pavement burning under the spew– though, perhaps this was what Percy wanted. Maybe Percy wanted to have a reason for Apollo to replace his car. “If you wanted a new car, you could have just asked. We are friends, are we not, Percy? Am I not your favorite god? I can have a gleaming new car ready for you tomorrow– so what’ll it be? A Corvette? Maserati? BMW? Or perhaps a cybertruck?” he asked, although hoped Percy would not choose a cybertruck.
“Seriously?” Percy asked, as he sat down, buckled his seatbelt, and adjusted his rearview mirror so he was looking directly at Apollo through it. “Do you know how expensive it is to insure cars like those? Never mind that anyways– I don’t want a new car, I just don’t want to have this car totaled because the god of healing is puking in my backseat.”
Apollo was beginning to feel like Percy wasn’t happy to see him. Odd.
“Fine,” Apollo said, giving up on the topic for now. “So, where are we going?” Wherever it was, he hoped it wasn’t far. He could hardly stomach to ride in the sun chariot, much less this awful mortal metal bumpy machine.
“The beach,” Percy responded, starting the car and beginning to drive out of the parking lot. Apollo stared at the sun chariot as they drove away, feeling sad about abandoning it in the parking lot. Not that it mattered– he could summon it again anywhere– but still, somehow seeing a vomit-covered Maserati sun chariot abandoned in the parking lot of a Target felt sad to him. But, at least Percy was taking him somewhere good.
When he’d agreed to get in the car with Percy, he’d been a tad worried that Percy would lead him to the tiny space Percy called ‘his apartment,’ but the beach sounded perfect. It was summertime after all; a nice, hot, sunny beach seemed like the perfect place Apollo to rest off his sickness at, with his son-of-sea-god bestie.
“Which beach? The Bahamas? Florida keys? Bondi?” Apollo asked, wondering what beach Percy could drive to from here. Those wouldn’t be too far, right? Sure mortal cars were a bit slower than his sun chariot, but surely Percy intended to take him to a lovely beach, where the cabins have luxury baths and servants to serve him.
“Montauk,” Percy stated, as if the answer were obvious the whole time. "I rented a cabin."
“Oh. Right,” Apollo said, though couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice. He supposed it did make sense– the Target he’d landed at is in Montauk after all. His dreams of palm trees, white sands, and servants disappeared from his mind.
They rode mostly in silence for a shockingly long amount of time (Apollo had already forgotten how slow mortal cars could be), with Apollo humming an old, slow melody to soothe himself. It was helping, and perhaps stopping him from actually throwing up and ruining Percy’s car, but he still felt disturbed that his sickness had not gone away.
As they drove, Apollo noticed Percy becoming more and more antsy, shifting around in his seat and continuously glancing at Apollo in the rearview mirror. Apollo wondered if this was an ADHD thing.
“Will you stop that?” Percy asked suddenly.
Apollo felt immediately offended, if offended is even the right word to use to describe how intensely shocked he was by Percy’s rude comment. He was already sick, trapped in a tiny Prius, and now Percy wants him to stop humming? He knew Percy had little fear of speaking against gods, but this was something different. This was downright rude, and Apollo had to stop himself from smiting Percy on the spot, or perhaps turning him into a fish and sending him to live with his father. “Percy- humming helps and I absolutely will not stop–,”
“Not that,” Percy quickly said, as if realizing he’d said something wrong. He gave Apollo a slight apologetic glance in the rearview mirror. “Not the humming. I don’t care about that– it sounds great, but you’re you– so yea. I’m talking about the prayers. You know– the things you keep putting in my head? Whatever you’re doing– stop, I’m trying to drive, and I can’t focus.”
Apollo’s anger calmed instantaneously. As the god of truths, he could tell that Percy had not lied about liking his small tune. Though he had absolutely no idea what Percy was accusing him of. “Prayers?” He asked in confusion. “I’m not doing anything, Percy. Besides trying not to heave and ruin your car, that is.”
Somehow, that seemed to annoy Percy again. Apollo didn’t seem to have much luck with speaking to his demigod friend today. Usually mortals loved what he had to say, but Percy was different from other people- he always had been.
Percy’s gaze turned to a challenging glare. “You mean to tell me you’re not directing the prayers meant for gods to me? That I’ve just been hearing voices in my head for absolutely no reason ever since I saw you in that parking lot?”
Apollo did consider that Percy could be going insane, as Percy had been through multiple wars in his lifetime and people have gone crazy for much less. But still, this seemed out of character, and as far as he knew, Dionysus actually liked the guy (though he wouldn’t admit it), so it was unlikely that Percy was truly going insane.
“Percy, I’m not doing anything,” Apollo said, doing his best to give a sincere tone. “What, exactly, are you hearing?”
Percy seemed to believe him this time, as he took a moment to pause and breathe, as he clutched the steering wheel tightly. “Prayers,” he admitted. “From camp breakfast. I can hear voices of the campers thanking me, or asking me for guidance, followed by the faint smell of… cooked food. Like eggs, and bacon. Are you sure this isn’t your doing?”
“Nope, not me,” Apollo insisted. At least, he was pretty sure it wasn’t, though he couldn’t actually be certain. Not with the way he was feeling– not while he was sick. Something that Apollo absolutely shouldn't be. Percy also was not a god (Apollo could clearly remember Percy declining immortality some years ago)- so he certainly shouldn’t be hearing prayers, either. This was all very… fishy (although things tend to be fishy around the son of the sea god).
Percy seemed disturbed by his answer, but accepted it nonetheless.
Apollo gave Percy a teasing smile. “So you like my humming? When we are at your cabin, perhaps I can sing and–”
“Please shut up.”