Poseidon was lounging in his throne—as per usual—when Delphin swam in, a huge package floating next to him.

"My lord," he chittered. "Lord Hermes just dropped off this package. It's for you." Poseidon knit his brows in confusion. The last time he'd received a package had been nearly two years ago, when the Second Titan War had just been won, and all the gods had sent him thank-you letters. Poseidon had never found anything interesting in Olympus Weekly to buy, and anything he did buy to decorate the palace, he usually sent Delphin, someone else, or went himself to get it. To be honest, he didn't really trust Hermes Overnight Express. He only used it for sending items, but never receiving. Why, the last time he'd used it, and had allowed Hermes access to his underwater palace, temporarily mind you, which was several centuries ago, that God of Thieves had stolen his collection of fishing rods right under his nose! Thank the gods he'd gotten them back a few decades afterwards.

Poseidon leaned forward as Delphin swam toward him with the package. "Who's it from?" He asked. Delphin gestured with a fin toward the waterproof tag on the huge package. Curious, the god of the sea opened the tag, which had been folded in half.

Happy Father's Day!

To: Dad

From: Percy

Poseidon's eyebrows skyrocketed. He'd never received a Father's Day gift from Percy. And no, he definitely never expected a Father's Day present from Percy. It wasn't like he was the world's best dad or anything. Still... with a jolt, Poseidon realized he'd never received a Father's Day gift from any of his children. Except for that time three years ago when Antaeus had sent him a package of "fresh skulls". Yeah, that hadn't been pretty. He'd passed those off to Hades for a proper burial.

"Delphin... you are dismissed." The God of Dolphins had a dolphinish expression on his (dolphin) face, and Poseidon was sure it resembled something like joy and giddiness.

"Of course, my lord. Call if you need me," Delphin said, before swiftly swimming out of the throne room. After he was gone, Poseidon checked the room to make sure there were no other sentries around. Pleased, that there weren't, he got up from his throne and sat cross-legged in front of the package, which was nearly the same height as him when he sat on the ground.

A moment passed before he proceeded to open the box. Of course, Poseidon could've just snapped his fingers, and the cardboard box would have instantly disappeared, but what was the fun in that?

Instead, he spent around ten minutes—and nearly ripped out three nails (he'd have to talk to his son about smart packaging)—before finally managing to open the cardboard box without too much damage to his throne room (in his frustration, he'd cracked four and a half tiles in the room, shattered one mirror, and dented his throne).

Inside the box, there were several more boxes, to which he groaned at. On top of the smaller boxes, however, there was another note. A letter. A scan through it told Poseidon that there weren't any mistakes he'd expected a dyslexic person to make. If he had to guess, Annabeth probably had something to do with it.

Dear Father,

I know I haven't sent any Father's Day gifts before, but I always bought them every year. I never sent them until now—I was pretty sure you'd find them petty and cliché, but here they are. You can pin them up with your fishing rods that you showed me last time I visited.

We don't have the world's best father-son relationship, but I think you've been a great dad (for a god).

Thanks for believing in me,

Percy Jackson

Tears welled up in the god's eyes (it was definitely possible to cry underwater), and he quickly blinked them away. This time, he snapped his fingers, and the letter Percy had wrote to him was instantly cased within a sea-green frame with a collection of blue shells encircling it. Another snap of the fingers had the frame flying out of the throne room, to his bedroom, where Poseidon knew the framed letter would be affixing itself to the wall opposite his bed. He'd decided not to that whole thing by hand—he really did not want to accidentally rip up the letter while trying to frame it and end up going to Camp Half-Blood (or wasn't his son at Camp Jupiter now to acclimate to the college there in New Rome?) to ask Percy to Please, please, please write another letter because he'd accidentally ripped up the first one. Gods. That would be embarrassing.

Moving past that part, Poseidon picked up the first package, dated 2006. Another ten minutes wasted in opening the package, but he finally got to the gift inside. A seashell patterned tie. There was a note at the top.

I wanted to send you this tie back years ago for Father's Day, but I chickened out. Like, why would the God of the Sea need a tie? I mean... of all the times I've seen you, you've never even wore a tie.

Poseidon chuckled. That was certainly true. The last time he'd worn a tie was for a stupid party that Hera had hosted years ago. She'd insisted on all the gods wearing crisp, pressed suits with ties to match. The goddesses were required to wear dresses. Of course, Ares had shown up with a black suit that was indeed crisp and pressed, except he'd headed to the Middle East just before the party just so he could get some fresh blood to, as he put it, liven up the fashion. Hera hadn't approved. Hephaestus had shown up with a crisp and pressed suit that he'd purposefully spilled oil all over on, just to piss off his mother. It was an amusing party, to say the least, and after that, Hera hadn't held any dress-code parties since.

Still, the gift meant a lot to Poseidon, and he gently set the tie aside. Then, he turned to the next box. 2007. Another ten minutes of box opening, and inside...

It was a shirt. From San Francisco, he was certain. If the Sea God had to guess, he'd say that Percy must've gotten it on that quest he'd hijacked on with the Hunters of Artemis. Whilst rescuing Annabeth. The shirt was a graphic tee, with plenty of ocean colored Hawaiian flowers. It was neat. Poseidon set that aside with the tie.

The 2008 box yielded a hat that had a plushy green serpent that was identical to the green sea serpent that he'd caught two years ago at Camp Half-Blood, just days after the Second Titan War.

2009, the year of the Second Giant War. A pair of shorts with a bunch of colorful beach images.

And 2010. This year. Poseidon opened the cardboard box to find a deep-sea fishing pole. The same exact one he'd used to catch that green sea serpent.

He looked at the pile of Father's Day gifts. And went to get dressed.

Percy had spent the entire morning organizing the mass amounts of Father's Day gifts into one big box and sending it off to Hermes Overnight Express. It wasn't like he expected his dad to send back a letter of appreciation or anything. It was just nice to finally send something to his dad. The gifts were measly anyway.

But five hours later, he certainly did not expect a knock at his cabin door. Annabeth had said to not bother her during the day (and had even stopped his kissing advances with a glare) since she was busy packing and preparing Camp Half-Blood for their departure to Camp Jupiter. Still, Percy reasoned. It was most likely Annabeth, asking him where he placed something again.

He swung open the door and called out, "Annabeth, I thought you told me to—" He cut off. Standing before him was his dad. Poseidon. In all his fashion glory.

Or to be accurate, in all his Father's Day glory. He was wearing the sea serpent hat Percy had sent him, and the floral-print shirt, and the seashell print tie, and the shorts with all the palm trees. And he was holding the fishing rod that he'd left Percy with two years ago.

Percy's mouth fell open.

"Would you like to come fishing with me?" His father asked, smiling, and his eyes twinkling. Percy closed his mouth. Opened it again.

And then crushed his father in a hug.

"Happy Father's Day, Dad."