#I'll do that tomorrow | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

Ehhhhh fuck it, here's some self-indulgent angst in my Olympian Falls AU.

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Mearl parked the truck in the driveway and looked at his youngest son in the passenger seat.

“Don’t forget, we’ll tell folks ya fell from the loft in the barn again,” he said. Lute scowled.

“I know. That’s what we told the hospital,” he spat.

“Look, tellin’ the truth is important, but in this case-” Mearl started. Lute threw the passenger door open.

“I know,” he ground out. “We can’t tell the truth ‘bout how my arm got broke. Folks can’t know it happened ‘cause a monster attacked the farm. Again. No, we have to tell ‘em I got hurt doin’ somethin’ stupid.” Lute stormed out of the truck, slamming the door behind him. Mearl sighed. He knew that it would be an adjustment to have Angie living at home again, after years of her staying in New York. But he didn’t expect Lute, whom had been raised as Angie’s twin, to be struggling the most.

Tensions had been high when Mearl returned from New York with Angie. Specifically, tensions between Angie and Lute. Angie’s other siblings had been happy to see her, but her twin dodged her constantly, refusing to be alone with her as much as possible, leaving the room whenever she talked about camp, and even avoiding talking to her altogether.

It came to a head that morning, when a monster attacked the orchard where Angie and Lute were harvesting apples. Lute was slammed into one of the apple trees, breaking his arm, before Angie was able to kill the monster. Angie brought Lute to the house, near hysterical. Sally stayed home to calm her down while Mearl drove Lute to the hospital. The entire drive there and back, Lute had sulked, staring at the floor like it personally offended him.

Mearl suddenly felt a sense of foreboding.

Lute was awful upset at Angie. It might not go well when he sees her. Mearl grabbed the keys from the ignition and sprinted after his son. He could hear Angie frantically apologizing the moment he stepped inside.

“I’m sorry, Lute, I- I can’t heal like some of my siblin’s at camp,” Angie’s voice sobbed. Mearl made a beeline for the living room. Lute stood in front of the couch his mother and sister were sitting on, visibly seething. Tear tracks shone on Angie’s cheeks. Sally gently rubbed circles on Angie’s back, trying to soothe her.

“Then why’d ya waste time tryin’?” Lute snapped. Angie bit her lip.

“I thought- I thought if it’d work fer anyone, it’d work fer my twin. I mean, Dad is a twin, so-”

“Yer not my twin.” Lute’s voice was full of cold anger. Angie let out another sob. “Yer not even my full sister!”

“Lute,” Sally scolded.

“How can you defend her? She ain’t yer daughter, Ma!”

“She is.”

“No, she ain’t! She’s some- some Greek myth what came to life!” Lute said furiously. “And she can’t even protect us from the monsters what come here. The monsters what come here ‘cause of her!”

“I- I killed the one today,” Angie said weakly. Lute’s eyes blazed with fury. He leaned in.

“You ran away from it!”

“I had to get- get some distance so’s I could fire an arrow. I ain’t good at melee fightin’.”

“Then why’d you run without me?” Lute’s voice broke. Angie’s eyes welled up with fresh tears. “You left me!”

“I didn’t-”

“No, you did! You left, just like ya did years ago to go to that- that camp!”

“I-”

“You should’ve stayed there,” Lute spat. Angie’s head drooped. “Better yet, when ya showed up on our doorstep, Ma should’ve divorced Pa ‘n sent the both of ya far away!” Mearl’s heart plummeted. Sally gasped. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, Angie jumped to her feet.

“I didn’t ask fer this!” Angie screamed. She ran out of the living room, nearly colliding with Mearl on her way. The front door slammed. Angie’s sobs gradually grew fainter until he couldn’t hear her anymore.

“Lute Everrett McGucket, that was completely unacceptable,” Sally snapped. Lute glared at her.

“I’m only tellin’ the truth. And Angie knows it. I’ve read those books ya got on Greek mythology. Her- her father-” Lute’s face contorted, as though he had tasted something sour. “-is the god of truth. I bet she knows a lie when she hears one.”

“Ya might feel like that’s the truth, but it don’t make it,” Mearl rumbled. Lute looked over. His eyes widened in panic.

“I- I didn’t know you were there, Pa. I didn’t mean-” He let out a large sneeze. “I didn’t mean-” He sneezed again. “What in the-” Lute sneezed three times in a row. “What’s-”

“That sounds like when Harper gets hay fever,” Sally said. Lute sneezed. “But ya ain’t never had it ‘fore, and the pollen count ain’t high right now.” Mearl stifled a groan.

“It was Angie.”

“What?!” Lute squeaked. He rubbed his suddenly red and watering eyes. “But- but-”

“When I visited her fer Thanksgiving last year, one of her camp friends told me she accidentally gave hay fever to someone she was upset with. Feller was sneezin’ fer over a week ‘fore Angie realized she was the one what done it.”

“Of course she did it,” Lute muttered. He sneezed. “It- it weren’t enough that I broke my arm, were it?”

“She didn’t mean to make ya sneezy,” Sally said. “And she certainly didn’t intend fer ya to break yer arm.” Mearl looked over his shoulder. The front door had some damage to its hinges; Mearl had noticed Angie breaking things more frequently than she used to, particularly when she was upset.

If she messed up the door and got Lute sneezin’ already, there ain’t no tellin’ what else she might do in her state. A surge of fear pulsed through his chest. And there ain’t no tellin’ what attention she might attract.

“We need to go after her,” Mearl said.

“Sure, go after the one what keeps causin’ me grief,” Lute said. Mearl frowned at him. Lute backpedaled. “I mean- I-” He sneezed. “She just needs to cool down. She’ll come back.” Sally looked at Mearl.

“Lute’s got a point, darlin’. Angie might just need some time to herself.”

“But-” Mearl started.

“She can take care of herself,” Sally said gently. Mearl hesitated. “She’s been on quests, ‘member? She’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know…”

“If she ain’t back in an hour, we’ll go lookin’,” Sally said. Mearl sighed.

“Fine.” He gave Lute his most disapproving look. “In the meantime, yer goin’ to yer room,” he said firmly. Lute stomped off, sneezing intermittently the entire way. Mearl walked over to the couch and slowly sunk down on it. Sally rubbed his back. “When did things get so complicated?” he moaned.

“The moment ya found our daughter in a golden cradle on the doorstep,” Sally replied. Mearl looked away. “Mearl?”

“Sometimes I think the same thing as Lute,” he said quietly. “That I should’ve taken Angie and left y’all. Then- then none of this would’ve happened.”

“True. But what would’ve happened would be worse,” Sally said. Mearl looked at her. Compassion shone in her eyes, a far gentler blue than Angie’s. “Our children would’ve grown up without a father. You ‘n Angie would’ve struggled to get by. No matter what those negative thoughts might say, it’s fer the best we didn’t tear the fam’ly apart.”

“Yer right,” Mearl said. He gripped his knees. “I just- I hate seein’ the twins like this.”

“Lute never really addressed his complicated feelin’s after we told him ‘bout Angie. He tried to hide ‘em away. But he can’t hide ‘em anymore, and they’ve twisted and turned after years of bein’ shoved down.” Sally sighed. “It don’t help they’re both teenagers. Their age is dif’cult without dealin’ with Greek mythology monsters ‘n whatnot.”

“True,” Mearl conceded. Sally leaned against his shoulder. He looked at the clock above the television. “One hour. Then we go lookin’ fer her.”

-----

Max was idly playing with a dagger when the butler knocked on his bedroom door. He quickly shoved the weapon in a desk drawer.

“Yes?” he said. The butler opened the door.

“Young Master Hillcrest, you have a visitor,” the butler said primly. Max stood up.

“A visitor?”

“Miss Angie McGucket.” Before Max could get too excited, the butler cleared his throat, looking a bit uncomfortable. “She seems to be in some distress. Your grandfather is with her.”

Grandpa Stanley? Max’s blood ran cold. Oh, shoot. It must be a Greek thing.

“Thanks fer tellin’ me. I’ll go down to see ‘em right now,” Max said. The butler nodded. He stood to the side so that Max could rush past him. Max sprinted down the hall and large staircase to the first floor. He paused in the foyer, which was empty of demigods. He looked up at the butler, watching from the second floor.

“They’re in the sunroom,” the butler called. Max nodded.

Should’ve figured as such, with her father. Max headed for the sunroom. When he arrived at Camp Half-Blood last summer, the last person he’d expected to see there was his best friend’s twin sister. He’d been told Angie McGucket was staying at a fancy boarding school in New York City. But the lie fell apart the moment he saw Angie sitting at a picnic table with a group of other mostly blond kids.

Angie was a demigod, like him. And like him, her parentage was a closely guarded secret. If the truth ever came out for either of them, it would have dire consequences for their families.

“He wasn’t thinkin’, sweetheart,” Grandpa Stanley’s voice said as Max approached the sunroom. He was like Max, a demigod, though while Max had yet to find out his mother’s identity, Grandpa Stanley had known for decades his father was Hephaestus. When Max questioned why there were multiple demigods in their family, Grandpa Stanley merely shrugged.

“Some fam’lies ‘re favored by the gods,” he’d said.

“That’s a good thing, right?” Max had asked. Grandpa Stanley’s face had darkened.

“It very rarely is.”

Max cast aside the memory when he reached the sunroom. He stood in the doorway, watching Grandpa Stanley comfort Angie. The sunlight that filled the room seemed drawn to her, shining like a spotlight.

“Angie?” Max asked. Angie looked up. Max felt his heart do a backflip. When Angie first went away to camp, they’d been children. Too young for Max’s fondness for her to be much of anything. But now, his affection had surged into infatuation. Angie was the perfect girl: smart, powerful, beautiful, and kind. Any room she walked into grew brighter. Any song played by her was more lovely. Any person she spoke to was the better for having met her, no matter how brief.

It was no wonder she was one of her godly father’s favorite children.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” Angie whispered. She rubbed her eyes. Max walked over to the couch the two were sitting on. He grabbed a nearby wooden chair and sat down. “I- I didn’t know where else to go.” She took a shuddering breath. “I need to call camp, but I can’t- I can’t risk drawin’ more monsters. I know- I know Grandpa Stanley made a- a monster security system, so’s I figured I could use yer phone…”

“Why do ya want to call camp?” Max asked. He had a feeling. It had taken some convincing before Angie agreed to try spending a school year at home, instead of at camp.

“I need- I need to ask Mr. Chiron to send someone to bring me back,” Angie mumbled. Max’s heart sank at the confirmation of his fear. “It was foolish fer me to think I could stay here.”

“What makes ya say that?” Max asked. Angie looked down at the floor.

“I- a monster attacked the orchard this mornin’, while Lute ‘n I were harvestin’ apples.”

“But you got the monster, right?” Max asked. Angie nodded. “So, it’s fine!” Angie burst into tears.

“No, it ain’t!” she wailed. “Lute got hurt! And- and he was so upset, he- he said he weren’t my twin and- and he didn’t want me here!” Max scowled. Lute was his lifelong best friend, but that didn’t mean he could look past something like this. “It’d be safer ‘n- ‘n better fer everyone if I weren’t here.”

“Don’t let this single instance sway ya,” Grandpa Stanley said gently. Angie sobbed. “It’s growin’ pains, that’s all.”

“I don’t want anyone to get hurt ‘cause of me.”

“And they won’t,” Max said. Angie shook her head.

“Lute already did.”

“That’s ‘cause he don’t know how to protect himself,” Max said. “If we teach ‘im and the rest of yer fam’ly some fightin’, that’ll be enough fer ‘em to avoid gettin’ hurt.” He looked at Grandpa Stanley. “Right?”

“It would definitely help,” Grandpa Stanley said. Angie sniffed loudly. “I’m sure Lute didn’t mean what he said. He’s just adjustin’. All y’all are.”

Don’t give him the right to make Angie cry.

“Think about it, Angie,” Max said. “Do ya really want to go back to camp? Spend the rest of the year in a mostly empty cabin?” Not many half-bloods were too powerful to prevent them from staying with their mortal families. There would only be a handful of people still at camp right now. Including the person Max wanted Angie to bond with the least: one of the co-head counselors of the Hermes Cabin, Stan Pines. Angie’s knee bounced anxiously. “Or do ya want to stay here in Gumption, with me ‘n yer fam’ly?”

“I want to stay,” Angie whispered. Max beamed. “But- but I ain’t ready to go home just yet.”

“Take all the time ya need,” Grandpa Stanley said. He got up. “I’ll call yer folks to let ‘em know where ya are.” Angie nodded mutely. Max waited until Grandpa Stanley was gone.

“If ya want me to beat up Lute, let me know,” he said. Angie chuckled weakly.

“He’s yer best friend!”

“Yeah.” Max reached out and rested his hand on Angie’s bouncing knee. It gradually slowed down. Angie met his eyes. Max smiled at her. “But us demigods have to stick together.”