dont care

The glass elevator at Olympus Holdings climbed sixty floors in seconds, but for Poseidon Jackson, it never felt fast enough. He adjusted his silk tie in the reflection, his face a mask of maritime authority. As the CEO of the world’s most influential architectural and engineering conglomerate, his life was governed by precision, punctuality, and a strict adherence to corporate decorum.

The doors hissed open to the executive penthouse suite. Poseidon stepped out, expecting to see his son, Percy, already at his desk, buried in the logistics of the New Rome urban development project.

Instead, Poseidon saw a pair of beat-up blue high-top sneakers resting on a mahogany desk that cost more than a mid-sized sedan.

Percy Jackson, twenty-one years old and arguably the most brilliant structural mind the company had ever seen, was leaning back in his ergonomic chair. His curly blonde hair was a mess, catching the morning sunlight until it looked like spun gold. He wasn't wearing a suit. He wasn't even wearing a button-down. He was wearing a faded "Save the Manatees" t-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts.

And he wasn't alone.

Sitting on the edge of his desk, swinging her legs and laughing at something on her phone, was Annabeth Chase. At nineteen, she was a tiny, radiant force of nature. Her brown skin looked flawless against the pastel pink sundress she wore, and her light brown boho knotless braids were pulled back into a high ponytail that bounced every time she giggled. She was barely five feet tall, looking like a doll next to Percy’s six-foot frame, but her brown eyes held a sharp, observant intelligence that Poseidon had learned not to underestimate.

"Percy," Poseidon said, his voice dropping into that low, oceanic rumble that usually made VPs tremble. "It is 10:45 AM. The meeting with the board started fifteen minutes ago."

Percy didn't even look up from the tablet he was sketching on. "Yeah, I know. I sent them the revised schematics at 9:00. They’re probably still staring at the load-bearing calculations trying to figure out how I shaved four million off the budget without compromising the integrity of the atrium. It’ll take them another hour to realize I'm right. No point in me sitting there watching them sweat."

Poseidon opened his mouth to snap a retort about professional optics, but then he looked at the tablet screen. Even from a distance, the complexity of the 3D model Percy was manipulating was staggering. It wasn't just good; it was revolutionary.

"And Ms. Chase?" Poseidon asked, tilting his head toward Annabeth. "I don't recall her being on the payroll for the New Rome project."

Annabeth looked up, a bright, bubbly smile breaking across her face. "Hi, Mr. Jackson! I’m just here for moral support. And Percy promised me we’d go get those fancy acai bowls downstairs once he finishes this bridge design. Do you want one? My treat!"

Poseidon blinked. She was so sweet, so genuinely kind, that it felt like a personal insult to his grumpiness. "I do not want an acai bowl, Annabeth. I want my son to look like he actually works for a Fortune 500 company and not like he’s headed to a beach bonfire."

Percy finally looked up, his blue eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and boredom. "Dad, we’ve been over this. If I wear a suit, the fabric pinches my shoulders and I can’t think. You want the designs that are going to win us the Dubai contract, or do you want me to look like a penguin? You can’t have both."

"It’s about respect, Percy," Poseidon sighed, though the fire was already leaving his voice.

"I respect the math," Percy countered, spinning his chair around. "The math doesn't care if I'm wearing pants with a zipper. Besides, Annabeth likes this shirt."

Annabeth reached over and patted Percy’s blonde curls affectionately. "I do. It brings out his eyes. Plus, he’s been working since four in the morning, Mr. Jackson. He’s already done more work today than most of your senior partners do in a week."

Poseidon looked from his son—the golden-haired prodigy who could visualize fluid dynamics in his sleep—to the girl who was the only person capable of keeping Percy focused.

In the beginning, Poseidon had tried to be the strict father. He’d tried to ban Annabeth from the office during work hours. He’d tried to enforce a dress code. He’d tried to demand Percy arrive by 8:00 AM sharp.

It had resulted in Percy nearly quitting to go work for their biggest rival, and the quality of the company’s output dropping by forty percent in a single week.

"Fine," Poseidon muttered, throwing his hands up in a rare display of defeat. "Fine. Wear the damn manatee shirt. Bring your girlfriend to the office. Hell, bring a hammock and sleep in the lobby for all I care, as long as those blueprints for the underwater tunnel are on my desk by Friday."

Percy grinned, a sharp, triumphant look. "They’re already in your inbox, Dad. I finished them while Annabeth was telling me about her architecture history final."

Poseidon froze. "They’re done? The seismic vibrations issue was resolved?"

"Total non-issue once I recalculated the pressure displacement," Percy said casually, as if he were talking about the weather. "I used a honeycomb lattice for the outer shell. It’s indestructible and thirty percent lighter."

Poseidon stood in silence for a long moment. He was the CEO, the man in charge, but he knew when he was outclassed. His son wasn't just smart; he was a freak of nature. A genius who viewed the world in a way no one else could.

"I'm going to the meeting," Poseidon said, turning on his heel. "Try not to get crumbs on the topographical maps."

"No promises!" Annabeth called out cheerfully, waving a hand as the glass doors began to close. "Have a great meeting, Mr. Jackson! You look very handsome in that tie!"

Poseidon felt the corners of his mouth twitch. He hated that she was so charming. It made it impossible to stay angry at the chaos they brought into his sterile, corporate world.

Back in the office, Percy tossed the tablet onto the desk and pulled Annabeth closer by her waist. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in the scent of cocoa butter and vanilla. "God, I hate meetings."

Annabeth laughed, her voice like wind chimes. She ran her fingers through his blonde hair, detangling the messy curls. "You didn't even go to the meeting, you dork."

"The idea of the meeting," Percy corrected, looking up at her with an adoring gaze. "You’re way more interesting than a bunch of old guys talking about dividends."

"I'm glad your dad is finally chilling out," she said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. "He used to look like he wanted to faint every time he saw me in here."

"He realized he can't fire me," Percy said, his voice dropping an octave as he smirked. "And he realized that if he pisses you off, I’ll stop working. You’re my muse, Wise Girl. Without you, I’m just a guy who’s really good at Tetris with buildings."

Annabeth rolled her eyes, but a soft blush crept up her cheeks. "You are such a liar. You’re a prodigy with or without me, Percy Jackson. But I do like being here. Your office has the best view of the city."

"The view is okay," Percy said, his blue eyes locked onto hers. "But I’m looking at something way better."

"Ugh, so cheesy," she groaned, though she was smiling. "Is that what you tell the board members when they ask about your inspirations?"

"I tell them to fuck off and look at the structural integrity," Percy laughed. He stood up, stretching his limbs, his tall frame dwarfing the furniture. "Come on. If I don't get you that acai bowl, you’re going to start critiquing the crown molding in this office, and I really don't want to hear about why the Greeks did it better today."

"The Greeks *did* do it better," she countered, sticking her tongue out at him. "Your dad’s office is a temple to minimalism, but it lacks soul, Percy. It needs more texture. More warmth."

"I'll tell him you said that. He’ll probably hire you as a consultant just to keep you from complaining," Percy said, grabbing his keys.

As they walked toward the elevator, they passed the main conference room. The walls were glass, and inside, twenty men in three-piece suits were huddled around a projector screen, looking absolutely baffled by the genius of the slides Percy had sent them.

Poseidon was at the head of the table. He looked up and saw his son walking by—shorts, messy hair, and his arm draped protectively around the small, bubbly girl in the pink dress.

Percy offered a two-finger salute through the glass.

Poseidon didn't glare. He didn't wave them back in. He simply nodded once, a silent acknowledgment of the deal they had struck. Percy provided the miracles; Poseidon provided the freedom.

"Did he just nod?" Annabeth whispered as they stepped into the elevator. "I think he actually likes me now."

"He’s terrified of you," Percy joked, pressing the button for the lobby. "He knows you're the only one who can make me actually put on a shirt in the morning. You hold all the power in this building, Annabeth Chase."

"Good," she said, leaning her head against his bicep. "Then my first act as the shadow CEO is to demand extra strawberries on my bowl."

"Your wish is my command," Percy said, kissing the top of her head.

Outside, the sun was hitting the glass of the Olympus Holdings building, making it shimmer like a beacon over the city. Inside, the suits were still arguing over math they barely understood, while the boy who had written the future of the city walked out the front door three hours early, holding the hand of the girl who made it all worth it.

Poseidon watched them from the window of the sixty-first floor. He watched his son spin Annabeth around on the sidewalk, making her laugh so hard she had to lean against a lamp post.

One of the board members cleared his throat behind him. "Sir? Regarding the sub-basement cooling systems... Jackson’s notes are a bit... unconventional. He used a profanity in the margin to describe the previous architect's work."

Poseidon didn't turn around. "Did he fix the problem?"

"Well... yes. It’s a brilliant solution, actually. We’ll save hundreds of thousands in maintenance."

"Then I don't care if he wrote it in crayon and signed it with a middle finger," Poseidon said, his voice cold and final. "The boy is a goddamn genius. Let him be."

He turned back to the table, the weight of the company on his shoulders feeling a little lighter knowing that Percy was out there, living a life that wasn't defined by a clock or a tie. He was a Jackson, after all. They were meant to rule the sea, not be drowned by it.

And if a sweet girl with light brown braids was the anchor that kept his brilliant, volatile son from drifting away, Poseidon would personally ensure she had a permanent pass to the executive suite for the rest of her life.

"Now," Poseidon said, sitting back down. "Let's look at the bridge designs. And if any of you mentions his t-shirt, you’re fired."

The room went silent, and the meeting continued. In the distance, the sound of Percy’s laughter echoed in Poseidon’s mind—a reminder that sometimes, the best way to lead was simply to get out of the way of greatness.

Down on the street, Percy and Annabeth were already blocks away, two young people who owned the world without ever having to ask for permission. Percy didn't need the approval of the board, and he didn't need the structure of his father’s world. He had his mind, he had his girl, and he had the blueprints for a future that looked exactly the way he wanted it to.

"You know," Annabeth said, taking a bite of her acai bowl as they sat in the park. "Your dad is actually kind of sweet when he's not trying to be the King of the Ocean."

Percy snorted, flicking a stray curl off his forehead. "Don't tell him that. It’ll ruin his reputation. He’s got an image to uphold."

"And what’s your image?" she asked, leaning in close, her brown eyes dancing with light.

Percy pulled her into his lap, ignoring the looks from the passing businessmen in their stiff suits. He kissed her deeply, a slow, confident kiss that tasted like summer and freedom.

"I'm the guy who gets the girl," Percy whispered against her lips. "The rest of it? That’s just background noise."

Annabeth smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck, her boho braids spilling over his shoulders like silk. "Best job in the world."

"Best job in the world," Percy agreed.

And for the first time in his life, Poseidon Jackson, watching from his high tower, finally understood that his son wasn't breaking the rules. He was just playing a completely different game—and he had already won.