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I will not ask you where you came from, I will not ask you, neither should you | Luke Castellan x reader

word count: 1.3k

a/n: felt like writing a meet cute. title lowkey doesn’t make sense but i love hozier so….Athena!coded reader. one-shot (probably). no use of (y/n) or (name) because I prefer not to do that. :)

warnings: not edited, not proofread, written in one sitting / not from chicago 😓 / i haven't written in AGES so...

The first time you met Luke, you had barely stepped foot into camp.

You were someone whose arrival had no pomp and circumstance, and--much to your protector's relief--whose journey had been relatively smooth-sailing save for one case of a missing train ticket, which had been a minor setback more than anything. Now here you were, protector-less (they had left to meet some council?), alone--despite the multitudes of campers that flocked to and fro around you--and tired.

Chiron had dropped you off in front of the Hermes cabin, and you passed by countless inquisitive eyes as you entered the building. The humidity of the summer gave your face a sheer glow as you, out of your element and more than a little nervous, padded towards the door with your bag in tow.

The moment you reached for the door it flew open (you yelped), expelling a handful of giggling children who were whispering conspiratorially amongst themselves. Upon seeing you, they quieted down, but then like a pot boiling over they resumed their antics and walked away, an sparing an occassional glance at you over their shoulders.

"Sorry about them," A voice cut through the retreating din of the group. You jumped again, whipping around to see a tall boy about your age standing in the doorway. The wind sent the leaves around the cabin rustling as he brushed his hand through his hair, opening the door wider. "Come on in."

You bowed your head, avoiding his gaze, and walked into the cabin, the smell of musk and earth--and plenty of other strange things--wafting through the area as you took in the beds and children running around.

"So, you're the new camper, huh?" You turned back to the boy, who walked past and led you to a vacant bed near a window. You followed, placing your duffel bag down.

"I'm Luke. Luke Castellan." The boy extended his hand to you with a practiced camp counselor smile, curly brown hair highlighted by the sun streaming in through the windows. You introduced yourself to him, soft-spoken yet firm. "I'm the counselor for Cabin 11. You can come to me if you have any problems adjusting to life here. Or if one of these goofballs steals something of yours."

It was his job to make sure his campers were taken care of, that they were comfortable. It was his job to help them settle in.

"It's lovely to meet you, Luke." Your voice was level as you shot him a polite smile, recovered from the whirwind of arriving at the cabin itself. "Thank you for your help."

A silence settled into the gaps of the conversation as you unzipped your tattered duffel bag, reaching inside for the few belongings you'd brought with you. You felt Luke staring at your back and an awkward cough followed. He'd sensed your anxiety.

"So, where are you from?" You gazed back at him timidly, still unsure of anything and anyone around you. He faltered, hoping he hadn't asked a painful question. To his relief, you smiled wistfully.

"I'm from Chicago--Lincoln Park." A picture frame, a little worn, holding a picture of you and your father at a baseball game. The sunlight lit up the photograph as you placed it on the windowsill.

"I've never been." He was straddling the back of a chair now, leaning his chin on his arms, facing you. He continued, voice soft and inviting. "I'd like to one day. What do you like about it?"

You paused packing, settling yourself on the bed as you thought about your hometown.

"The beach--well, the lake--and the White Sox games, obviously. " You hummed, deep in thought and nostalgia, playing with your hands. "My dad and I also used to go to this place, they had the best sundaes, and we'd go every year on my birthday. And then we'd take the train home."

Your smile quickly twisted, going sour as a tear threatened to trail down your cheek, and you quickly caught yourself before it could.

"That sounds fun." He rocked back in the chair, and nodded to the picture you'd put on the window. "Baseball fan huh?"

"Hardly," You chuckled. "I mainly went becuase my dad loved them so much....I'm more of a museum enjoyer."

"Art?"

"I mean yes, but I like science and history ones too. Bones and all." Your lips turned upward slightly at the sight of Luke jumping out of his chair.

"Well you're in the perfect place, given we," he gestured to the cabin around him, leaning on a bedpost. "are partly known for stealing things."

You laughed, a genuine laugh, your sleeve wiping off the the remnants of the tears you'd almost shed. Luke grinned, face beaming. (he'd cheered you up, at least a little).

He straightened up, resuming his camp counselor aura. "Well, I do ha--"

"What about you, Luke Castellan?" You said his name, softly, like you were testing out how it sounded in your mouth. You looked up, hoping he hadn't heard you sniffle, hadn't seen the glistening in your eyes from before.

Maybe it was because you were slightly embarassed that you'd almost cried in front of a guy who you were now beginning to notice was, in fact, very pretty.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm holding you up." Embarrasment, flushing down your body and running through your veins.

"No!" His eyes widened, and he shifted back to face you. "No it's okay, what was your question?"

"Where're you from?" The words tumbled out of your mouth, before you could say what you should've said--a polite 'nothing, thank you'.

He faltered. You'd caught him off guard. Usually newbies didn't ask him about himself--they were too busy asking more questions about the camp itself. You waited, brow raised and eyes gleaming with genuine interest.

"I'm from Connecticut," He watched your eyes light up, familiarity flooding your face. "You been?"

"No but....you ever watch Gilmore Girls?" A soft grin painted your face and you caught your bottom lip between your teeth in excitement. He'd been asked this a few times, but this time he couldn't help but not respond with his usual exasperation, faced with your barely-contained excitement.

"I have." He listened as you spoke, opening up slowly like a flower in bloom. After all, it was his job to make sure his campers were taken care of, that they were comfortable. It was his job to help them settle in.

But maybe he stayed longer than he usually did, maybe he answered your questions about himself because he had a fleeting thought that you were pretty or he liked the way you laughed at his jokes and it was influencing his judgement. Maybe it was how easy it was, the way he fell into conversation easily with you.

Tyche had set your fates spinning.

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