kelpheaded | get up and shake the glitter off your clothes now

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get up and shake the glitter off your clothes now

When she wakes up, she doesn't realize anything's wrong at first. She's in a bed, soft but supportive, tucked under a thick blanket. She's cuddled up against a warm body, her head pillowed against a firm chest that moves up and down steadily with even breaths. It's comfortable, and when she cracks her eyes open and sees she's in a (hotel?) room that's empty aside from her sleeping companion, no monsters (why would she be looking for monsters?) or anything else dangerous in sight, she almost shuts her eyes again to fall back asleep.

It's the thought that she doesn't quite remember how she got here that really wakes her up. Because: how did she get here? Where is here? It might be safe... ish... in that she might not be in immediate danger, but there's a lot of unknowns right now, including the question of who the frick is in bed with her.

It would probably make more sense to stay quiet and take in more of the situation, but the realization that she's in bed with a stranger causes her to flail backwards in a way that would absolutely have had her falling off the side of the bed if the mattress itself wasn't surprisingly large. Instead, she ends up tangled gracelessly in the sheets and slightly frozen in place, like the guy waking up won't see her if she's completely still.

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Her confidence is refreshing; she manages to distract him into not worrying about it for the moment, as he mock-staggers and says, "Hey, whose fault is that, anyway?"

But she's got a point, and he heads for the elevators to hit the button for their floor. "Next time we go wandering I'll know to bring bring a towel. And possibly a change of clothes."

“You’re going to need to own a change of clothes first,” says the only one of the two of them who currently owns multiple shirts. (And… several days’ worth of lingerie, but let that stay hidden away in the drawer for now.)

That... is a problem, yeah. He's going to have to hang his jeans on the balcony railing and hope for the best, he supposes.

Either that, or, "I don't suppose your trick works on clothes?" he asks, hopefully, drip-drip-dripping on the elevator floor as it rises.

“I don’t know.”

It’s possible it would, and yet. Who’s to say! Maybe he just needs to be wet for a little while longer. So he can think about what a terrible idea challenging her was.

One corner of Jason's mouth ticks up at that; he can tell she's teasing him, and you know what? He can't even really bring himself to mind.

"Well, if you want to try... you'll have the opportunity," he says nonchalantly, as the elevator dings and he leads the way out, digging out the plastic keycard which, thankfully, shouldn't be affected by the dunking.

He does vaguely wonder if he couldn't get the winds to dry his clothes out, but he also has vivid mental images of said clothes flying away off the balcony, and that is a lot less ideal.

"Maybe I should just get some swim trunks for next time." The hotel shop is bound to have those.

“Probably. I definitely want to go in the water again.”

Obviously. Now that she knows why she was drawn to the ocean. Maybe she can do some actual swimming.

“They definitely had shirts, too. And shorts and stuff. I should check it out again later to see if there’s any more necessities we can make the gods or whatever pay for.”

She flops on the bed.

"If you want to go look while I'm in the shower, you can pick some up." He pauses. "And some more clothes for me, maybe?"

On the one hand, that feels a little like asking her to do his shopping. On the other... he has exactly one set of clothes that are not the pajamas he woke up in and they're currently dripping on the floor.

It’s definitely the most reasonable option. He will need something to wear out of the shower, and she can check for anything else they need while she’s there. “Yeah, sure.” She pats her pocket to make sure she definitely still has her card before she leaves the room. “Any special requests?”

He thinks a moment, but shakes his head. "Just some clothes," he admits, with a rueful smile. "Maybe some swim trunks if you really want."

It's weird, to think about getting all this on someone else's dime, but if that's what they have to work with -

Actually. "Some snacks?"

He's a teenage boy, okay. He's always hungry.

“I’ll see what I can find.” After hesitating for a moment, she kisses him on the cheek. It seemed pretty nice the first time she did it? It’s like a good luck thing for whenever they’re not next to each other.

(Is that because she likes it, or did someone else do that with her?)

“No promises.”

Jason shifts in place a little, like maybe he wants to kiss her back - but doesn't, because he doesn't want to do something that's not okay with her. He does smile softly, though, and nods. "Thanks."

For getting clothes. And the kiss. He can thank her for both things.

Then he retreats into the bathroom so he can actually peel off his soaked clothes and wash all the salt and sand off of himself.

Percy doesn’t do a lot of shopping for clothes, mostly because - as much fun as it is to waste someone else’s money - she’s not totally sure she’s got the right size for him. He can pick out more stuff himself later.

She does come back with a t-shirt for him (if it’s a little on the small side, that’s not her fault, she was eyeballing it) (and if he objects to it saying ‘beach babe’ on it then he shouldn’t have sent her) and shorts, along with swim clothes for both of them. She also picked up some basic hygiene supplies - toothbrushes, toothpaste, etc - and a bunch of snacks in a bag, and she tosses them on the bed when she makes it back to the room.

Jason tries not to take too long in the shower, but he does also try to keep an ear out for the door opening and closing again - if only because he won't have anything to put on until Percy gets back.

The water's no longer running by the time she does return; a minute later, he sticks his wet, tousled head out of the bathroom door, clearly wearing only a towel and trying to pretend that's perfectly fine.

(It... is, maybe? If she's supposed to be his wife.)

"Hey," he says, with an unspoken question at the tail end of the syllable that is clearly asking after clean clothes.

“Hey.”

She tosses him a t-shirt, shorts, and boxers from the underwear drawer that she’s currently otherwise ignoring. It’s not her problem until she has to change again.

“I had to guess about your size.”

Jason has to use both hands to catch the clothes she tosses, meaning the door opens a little more and she'll definitely get a good look at him in just a towel.

Fortunately, said towel stays put, and he smiles gratefully at her, clutching the clothes to his chest. (He has not yet seen the wording on the shirt. Give him a minute.)

"Thanks." He definitely sounds relieved as he disappears back into the bathroom to get changed.

A few seconds later there's an incredulous laugh, and he calls out, "Beach babe?"

Percy is definitely not not paying attention to that glimpse of way more of her husband than she’s ever seen, though she’d like to think she’s being respectful about it.

Y’know. Sort of respectful.

She grins when she hears that call from the bathroom. “I can’t hear you! Did you say it doesn’t fit?”

Jason makes a noise halfway between a sigh and a snort. He opens the door fully now - the shorts do fit, but the shirt is... yeah. It's like just that side of too small that makes it stretch over his chest and shoulders.

He's got one eyebrow raised as he says, "It'll work for now." Because it will, even if he's going to get one that's the next size up later.

But, "Beach babe," he repeats, only now, it's not a question, and he looks like he's trying to look put out only it's possibly not working as well as he thinks it is.

“Oops?” She tried! Really, she did. “I got pretty close, at least.” It does still fit him. Mostly. And she is definitely not ogling at all the way that it stretches over his chest.

Jason sees her looking... and it makes his cheeks flush a little, but he also doesn't exactly call her out.

Or the fact that she has not explained the words on the shirt. He has a feeling he already knows the answer, anyway.

He does go slip back into the bathroom to retrieve his soaked clothes so he can go hang them over the balcony railing. He already rinsed them out, because soaked is soaked, so at least most of the salt is gone.

"It's okay. Thanks for getting it, either way." Because he does still appreciate it.

That's when his eyes fall on the bags of snacks on the bed, and he maybe beelines over to inspect them.

"You're welcome," she says, absolutely the best wife ever. If they gave grades in being unexpectedly married at at somethingteen-years-old, she'd be nailing it. All A's.

"I didn't know what you like. Or I like, for that matter? So I got a lot." Not that she's particularly hungry right now. It's still nice to have a wide selection.

Jason shrugs and inspects a bag of chips, pulling it open. "I don't think I'm picky?"

Even if he is, he does not have a problem with these chips - though he of course holds out the open bag for Percy, because it's rude not to share when she's the one who got them. Just in case she wants some.

"Nobody gave you any trouble? With buying this stuff and charging it to the room?" He does want to make sure, though she'd probably have said something if not.

There was probably something about sharing chips in the wedding vows, too, and if there was, then he's doing a very good job of it. And while Percy might not be particularly hungry, she's not going to turn down the opportunity to find out something new about herself, namely: does she like these chips.

"No. I guess they really were serious when they said our bill was handled."

Sharing chips does sound like one key to a successful marriage, at least.

"At least that's one less thing to worry about," he breathes, because there's plenty else to worry about, given that they're no closer to figuring out what all this means. "The gods don't skimp on their bills."

For whatever that's worth. It does seem worth something.

"I don't know that I can just... sit here and relax all weekend, though," he admits. He's too unsettled by, well. Not remembering anything.

"I don't think so, either, but it's as good a place as any to use as a base while we figure things out." Which is what she sort of thought they'd decided already, but that was one Earth-shattering revelation about their parentage ago, so she can't blame him if he's reconsidering.

"It is," he agrees - she's right, after all. He's still onboard for that, even if he feels a little weird accepting charity from gods who clearly wanted it that way. But they don't have a great alternative at the moment.

He sits down on the bed and continues going through the bag of chips, offering it over every few mouthfuls. "I wonder if the location is significant - I mean. It is near a beach, but if it's more than that."

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