Chapter Text
Cynthia stared down at the shriveled brown domes sitting on the cookie sheet, confused. She was certain she had done everything right. The correct ingredients, the correct baking time, everything. Her chocolate chip cookies should not look like piles of baked deer crap.
“I think that maybe something may have gone wrong somewhere along the way.” Her niece Celia said, peering over her shoulder.
Cynthia shook her head in disbelief. “Apparently so, but I have no idea what I could have done. I followed all the instructions on the back of the bag! ¼ cup of sugar, ¼ cup of brown sugar, bag of chocolate chips…”
Celia looked at her skeptically and grabbed the empty chocolate chip bag off the counter, putting on her reading glasses. She squinted at the ingredients list. “Aunt Cynthia, this says it calls for ¾ cup of sugar and ¾ cup of brown sugar.”
Not for the first time in her life and probably not for the last, Cynthia cursed her shoddy old lady's eyesight. Sally looked over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised.
“Everything alright over there?” She called from her dough-kneading station on the other side of the kitchen.
Cynthia sighed. “I messed up the chocolate chip cookies.”
“Aw, they just look funny. I’m sure they taste fine.” Celia said reassuringly.
To prove her point, she picked one of the larger ones off the pan and popped it in her mouth. Slowly, her features twisted into a less than pleased expression as she chewed. She swallowed, and shook her head at Cynthia.
“Guess that means I’m gonna have to start over.” Cynthia frowned.
As she dug through the baking cabinet for a fresh bag of chocolate chips, the barely-there sound of footsteps in the hallway caught her attention. When she turned around, Percy was standing in the doorway, staring at the veritable army of cookies of all shapes and sizes scattered across almost every flat surface in the kitchen.
“How’s the baking going?” He asked distractedly, eyeing one fresh batch of snickerdoodles (courtesy of Celia) sitting on the counter to the left of him.
“Oh, Percy! Perfect!” Sally exclaimed, glancing backwards at her son, “Wash your hands, baby, you’re helping us make Christmas cookies.”
Instead of throwing his head back and groaning like she figured most teenage boys his age would’ve at the statement, Percy just shrugged and walked to the sink, doing as he was told. Cynthia couldn’t help but smile– he really was as nice as Paul said.
“What exactly am I helping with, mama?” He asked, wiping his hands off on one of the few non-decorative towels in the kitchen.
Sally nodded in Cynthia’s general direction. “Cynthia ran into some, ah– trouble with her chocolate chips–”
“The trouble being that I’m too blind to read directions.” Cynthia cut in.
“–And she needs to make another batch. Do you remember the recipe? The one that I always use?”
Percy visibly brightened. “Yeah, of course. But, um–”
He turned to look at Cynthia, a vaguely embarrassed blush on the apples of his cheeks. “Do you happen to have any blue food coloring?”
Cynthia blinked. “Uh, I think so. Why do you need that? They’re just chocolate chip cookies.”
Sally laughed softly. “Blue food is a tradition in our house. Most of my recipes call for it.”
That cleared up one question, and then raised a whole bunch more. One look at Celia told her that she shared the same thought.
Percy and Sally shared a look and a laugh. Percy grabbed a clean mixing bowl and began measuring out the flour.
“It’s been a thing for us since I was a little kid. I guess we just never stopped doing it.” He said.
Celia made a small noise of interest and Cynthia turned towards him to pay more attention to his story. “How’d it start?”
“Well, I was too little to really remember all of it, but basically, mom’s–” A dark look crossed his face for a fraction of a second, but it vanished just as quickly as it had come. “Uh, someone told mom that there were just some things in the world that were impossible and shouldn’t even be attempted, like blue food. But obviously tons of food is blue, even without dye, so they kinda got into an argument about it–”
“ Really ?” Celia said, eyebrows raised, “It’s hard to believe someone as sweet as you, Sally, would get into any kind of disagreement at all. Actually, it's hard to believe that anybody would even disagree with you in the first place, ever.”
“Well, it’s true.” Sally said, her tone playful but strangely tight.
“Yeah, I know, right? She’s like the best person in the whole world, I don’t know how this guy could’ve started an argument over that.” Sally smiled a little at her son’s words, and Cynthia and Celia nodded in agreement.
“But mom doesn’t like that kind of worldview, y’know, that there are some things you’re just never gonna achieve. So she started going out of her way to make as much food blue as she could. Now it’s kindof like a symbol for us, that everything is possible and you shouldn’t let other people tell you what you can and can’t do.” He finished, dumping the sugar (the correct amount, this time) into the bowl.
While she initially had found the blue cookies strange, especially for the Christmas season, Cynthia found herself growing very fond of the idea; particularly the sentiment that Percy had explained.
“That’s lovely, you two. The food dye should be right in that cupboard, the one above– yep, that’s it Percy, there you go.”
Over the span of the next hour or so, Percy proved to be an actually pretty great baker, despite the flour that ended up decorating his t-shirt and jeans. At least, he was as long as they were using his mother’s recipes. His mother’s recipes, by the way, quickly became very sought after by Cynthia and Celia. Sally, however, held them close to her chest, citing the fact that they had been passed down on her mother’s side for generations.
“Maybe,” She had said coyly, “One day you’ll learn them.”
They had just enough ingredients left to make 2 fresh batches of bright blue chocolate chip cookies, more than enough to make up for the one that Cynthia had squandered. By the time 8pm rolled around, all 4 of them had ended up sitting around one of the counters, eating a few of the cookies that had turned out less than pretty but still tasted fine. Percy, of course, was devouring the duds of the blue batch.
As they chatted idly, his phone ding ed and lit up with a notification– someone called “Grover the GOAT !!!!!” wishing him a merry Christmas– but that wasn’t what Cynthia’s attention was drawn to as she peered inconspicuously over his shoulder. On his lockscreen was a photo, taken on a beach surrounded by trees somewhere at sunset. In the photo, sitting cross-legged on the old wooden dock, was a very pretty girl about Percy’s age, her blonde curls tied back in a loose ponytail. She wore a bright orange t-shirt, cuffed denim shorts, and dirty white converse, a bandaid covering a long scrape along her left cheek. She was grinning at the camera with one eyebrow raised, and– weirdly enough– casually pointing a very ornate looking dagger at whoever was holding the phone.
“Is that your girlfriend?” Cynthia asked in a way she hoped didn’t sound too prying.
Percy blushed right up to the tips of his ears and smiled. “Yeah, that’s Annabeth, last summer at camp.”
“Speaking of Annabeth…” He muttered under his breath, “Is it okay with everyone if I go call Annabeth now? I promised her I would before I went to bed.”
Sally smiled and made shooing motions at him, as did the other two ladies. “Go call your lady love, sweetheart, you’ve been helpful enough here.”
Percy smiled widely and thanked them. He quickly stepped around to the other side of the table and gave Sally a peck on the cheek, then made for the doorway.
“Merry Christmas Eve, mama. Cynthia and Celia, merry Christmas Eve to you too.” He said on his way out.
They all returned the sentiment, and went back to their cookies.