Pairings: Aphrodite/Percy
Challenge: She's not used to being jealous. But he's hers and she doesn't want to share.
Word Prompts: Satiated or Idolized
Song Prompts: Mr. Brightside by The Killers
TV/Book/Movie Prompts: Chocolate/ Girl Interrupted

Her mirror was lying to her again. It showed a flawless face, makeup perfectly done. She was perfect. And she broke her mirror for the thousandth time.

He was back again.

She was stalking him, again.

He never noticed.

She's not used to being jealous. But he's hers and she doesn't want to share.

She huddled in a corner, watching the gods argue yet again about Percy's coming of age party. The demi-god in question simply stood there, watching as the water ran down the chute, not paying an ounce of attention until Ares poked him and asked him something rudely. The green-eyed teen huffed, before turning his attention to Ares.

Later, as they're leaving, he sees her. Perfect as she should be. He smiles, waves, and leaves her there with a polite goodbye, turning to Annabeth to smile at her instead, wrapping his jacket around her shivering body. Aphrodite goes home and smashes another mirror.

I've heard you're green with envy. Aphrodite sits at her makeup stand, fuming as she rifles through the drawer of lipstick, intent on finally getting Percy to talk to her. She is nearby when she sees Annabeth kiss him on his birthday. Another mirror is broken.

And another.

And another.

Hephaestus sees the broken glass, the smeared mascara, and the smeared lipstick on her dress. He sits with her that night, picking out the shards of glass, brushing her hair back, holding her close to him and offering a cold comfort of affection from a man she never wanted to marry.

She and her husband have reached a silent agreement. She makes him breakfasts, lunches, dinners; even asks Hestia for help, and he in turn makes her new mirrors every time she smashes one. It was the closest thing to marriage that they had in all their centuries of being together. She has not seen Percy for a while. So one mirror has lasted her some time.

She finally sees him again, standing there holding a plain white sundress and a black makeup bag, waiting at her front door. Aphrodite pauses, and looks at him. Percy smiles at her shyly, taking her hand to walk her into her bedroom.

"Do you trust me?" He asks her, sea-green eyes on her. She nods, and he smiles at her once more. She finds him as he takes off her sandals, her dress, and her jewelry. She watches as he carefully wipes away the makeup, leaving her skin bare of any protection from his fingers. She takes the fine silk sundress and puts it on with shaking hands. Simple sandals of leather and cotton slip onto her plain, manicured feet.

He removes the last of her nail polish, the red leaving her fingers perfectly manicured. A single topcoat covers her nails and it dries while Percy unweaves extensions from her hair. Her fake lashes are delicately removed, and when one of her real ones lands on her cheek, he wets a fingertip and removes it, the skin warming at the touch. He does not let her put on any makeup, removing her frail armor. A simple woven bracelet is placed on her wrist, in pink and reds.

Finally, he leans in and gives her a simple chaste kiss, before gently braiding her hair and applying a clear gloss to her lips. He takes a simple, ornate mirror from out of the black bag of makeup, and he lets her see herself for the first time.

She has freckles. She had forgotten about those. Her eyes are not catlike as she makes them with the makeup, but wide and innocent. Her hair lies straight, loosely braided over her shoulder. No necklace, no rings save for the one Hephaestus gave her, and a coarse wood and rope bracelet. Her lower lip is too full, her ears stick out without earrings, and the dress is not long enough to cover slightly skinny knees. Percy kneels and puts a charm bracelet of wood and rope around her ankle. A small, white flower and two pink rosebuds are in her hair, weaved in by Percy.

She is imperfect.

She is beautiful.

The gods all stop what they are doing to stare at her. She can feel the surprise, the jealousy, the envy, as the hero of Olympus escorts her to the throne room. There is silent surprise, as the thirteen others turn to see her. Her husband is there, smiling at her. He appears proud, as he takes her hand and squeezes it.

"Happy Birthday love," He tells her, nose buried in her sweet-smelling hair. Percy smiles at her again, before turning to Annabeth. As he gives her a soft kiss, she watches without flinching.

And she smiles.

She thought that she's not used to being jealous. That he's hers and she doesn't want to share. But as she looks up at her husband, she leans into him and kisses his cheek.

She got one day with him.

And she's satisfied.