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Annabeth has recently come to realize that she is very much in over her head.
Fighting in a war against ancient deities? She can do that. Pick up a part time gig as the architect of Mount Olympus? Intimidating, but she can do it. Navigate the beginnings of a romantic relationship with her best friend of four years? Oh gods.
Annabeth does not enjoy not knowing something. It makes her feel inferior and unprepared and vulnerable, none of which are emotions she particularly enjoys experiencing. And right now, she’s got no idea what she’s doing.
Because she used to know how to act around Percy. Back in those first summers, it was easy to be around him. Sure, sometimes he would say something surprisingly charming or endearing and it would catch her off guard, but overall— they were best friends. She’d just punch him in the arm and call him a Seaweed Brain and move on. But now, things are different. There are certain expectations that come with being boyfriend and girlfriend. Wait— are they boyfriend and girlfriend? They haven’t specified that. Is that something they need to discuss? Does he think they’re boyfriend and girlfriend?
So she’s been spiraling a little bit. She thought the transition would be straightforward, that now that their feelings were out in the open that the next steps would be obvious. But she’s floundering. She doesn’t know what she wants, let alone what Percy wants.
They kissed for the first time a week ago. It was Percy’s birthday a week ago. The war ended a week ago. It’s been pretty busy, all things considered.
Camp Half-Blood remained relatively unharmed after the battles. Most of the fighting was sequestered to Manhattan. There were some intense storm winds from Typhoon that felled some trees, and most of the cabins are looking a little worse for wear, but it’s much better than how things could have been. Which is good, because the physical and mental injuries that the campers are facing are big enough without having to rebuild the entire camp. There are too many campers—and Hunters, and satyrs, and nymphs—in the infirmary, resting and recovering from one injury or another. The Apollo kids have been working overtime trying to get to everyone. The Hephaestus kids have been leading the charge in restoring the camp. Things are delicate and precarious.
Delicate and precarious . Truth be told, it’s not that different from this whole thing between her and Percy. They’ve both been busy, so they haven’t spent a ton of time together. But they’ve snuck out at night a few times, walking along the beach together. Each time, he’s reached out to grab her hand, linking their fingers together. She likes holding his hand like this. It sends a little thrill down her spine, makes her heart beat a little faster. Twice on these nighttime walks they’ve gotten distracted by kissing. Once it was on the rocks near the fireworks beach, and the other time behind the pegasus stables. The first time, it caught her off-guard. They were just talking, the way they always do, and then he stopped walking suddenly. She stopped once she realized, and turned to see if everything was okay, when he gave her a soft look that made her shiver, tugged on her hand to pull her closer, and kissed her. She promptly forgot her name, and where she was, and everything in the universe that wasn’t Percy, Percy, Percy.
She really likes kissing him.
She doesn’t think she’s very good at kissing. Again, she doesn't know what she’s doing; another step in this awful trend of amateurishness that she’s been experiencing. She’s never kissed anyone before. She doesn’t know how to do it. And her brain seems to fizzle out every time he gets close to her, so it’s not like she can be analytical about things. She can’t keep track of what he seems to like and what he doesn’t.
Percy doesn’t seem to have that sort of problem. In the few times they’ve made out, he somehow figured out exactly what makes her tick. After just one kiss, she’s breathless, her mind is blank, and she’s holding back some embarrassingly-indecent sounds. Annabeth thinks there might be a hidden off-switch to her brain that can only be accessed by Percy’s kisses, because that’s the only thing that would explain why she practically melts into his arms and can no longer form a coherent sentence the moment he presses his lips to hers.
She doesn’t know how to kiss him. She doesn’t know if they’re dating. She doesn’t know how to touch him. She doesn't know what’s going on.
She really, really wishes Silena was here. She’d know what to do.
//
“Perce? You in here?” she calls out. It’s a Wednesday afternoon, and she’s on inspection duty— more of a formality than anything right now, to be honest, but having some semblance of normalcy helps. Regardless, it’s a pretty boring task, and one she’d much rather do with Percy by her side. So she decided to swing by his cabin first to see if he’s available. She knocks on his door, but there’s no answer. She sighs. He’s probably with the pegasi or something. He’s been spending a lot of time there lately. The pegasi are all missing Silena, too.
Well, regardless if he can join her, she does still have to give his cabin an inspection. She opens the door and steps inside. She’s greeted by the distant sound of running water and the smell of salt— not unexpected for the Poseidon cabin. It’s odd being in this space without him. The room is pretty messy. He probably forgot it was inspection day. His bed is unmade, he’s got clothes all over the floor, and his various pieces of leather armor have just been thrown onto an empty bunk bed. She smiles fondly as she marks a 4 out of 10 on her sheet— no favoritism from her. Then something above his bed catches her eye. She steps over a pile of books—since when did Percy own so many books?—and gets closer. He’s got some photos taped up on the wall next to his bed. A selfie of him and Tyson. Beckendorf in his shop, working on some project and shooting an exasperated look at the photographer for interrupting. Percy with his mom and step dad at the wedding last fall. And then a picture of her.
It’s from last summer, sometime after a game of capture the flag. She’s got a helmet with red plumage on the top, and she’s holding the blue team’s flag proudly in her hands. She’s sweaty and dirty and she has a small cut on her cheek that’s bleeding, and she’s grinning at the camera, looking much too smug and content with her prize. The photo has indents in the center from being folded repeatedly, and the edges have gotten worn down, like Percy had been bringing the photograph around with him in his pocket. The thought makes her heart constrict within her chest. She’d been so awful to him by the end of the summer last year, and he’d still carried her picture around with him.
“Annabeth? What are you doing in here?”
She’s interrupted by the sound of Percy’s voice. She feels like she’s in trouble, like she’s been caught red-handed doing something she shouldn’t. She tears her eyes away from the photos and starts to turn.
“I’m sorry, I was just doing inspections, and I—” She stops short.
On the other side of the cabin, standing in the doorway to the bathroom, is Percy. He’s only wearing a towel, a white fluffy thing with an embroidered seashell. He’s shirtless from the waist up, and his hair is wet, falling messily down his forehead. Rivulets of water drip down his chest. Distantly, she notes that the sound of running water has stopped. That had been the sound of his shower then, not just general Poseidon ambiance. Fascinating.
She can tell that she’s staring. Gawking, really, and not at all subtly. Her jaw is hanging open. Her face feels rather hot. She should leave. She should step out of his cabin and give him some privacy. So he can put on a shirt, and maybe some pants or something. Or underwear. Oh gods, he’s not wearing underwear, is he?
She should at the very least close her damn eyes.
But she can’t move at all. In fact, she feels like she’s been petrified by Medusa, frozen in place and unable to move an inch.
She’s not sure if she’s ever seen him without a shirt before. It’s— well, it’s quite the sight to look at. He’s really strong. She’d known that in an abstract way, but seeing it is a whole different matter. He’s got abs. And pecs. She hadn’t realized that pecs could be so appealing. She wonders if she’s drooling. There’s a whirlpool in her chest, the tugging of a vortex, and at the very center of it is a shirtless Percy Jackson.
He has some scars that she hadn't known about. A short thin cut by his collarbone. A reddish, ugly blotch on the side of his ribcage. Scars that ambrosia and nectar had healed but not erased, memories that Achilles’s curse hadn’t faded. And, of course, the burn marks. There’s a patchwork on his skin from the time he had been the impetus of a volcanic eruption; mottled patches a darker brown than the rest of his body, centered on the left side of his torso and expanding outward across his body. She wants to run her hands over his skin. Wants to feel the rigid edges of his scars, the history of his fights, the reminders of the miraculous fact that he has survived, that he is right in front of her. She wants to learn what it feels like to be in his arms. She wants to touch him.
He clears his throat. Annabeth’s face burns as she realizes she’s been ogling him for likely an entire minute. She lets out a squeak before she turns around, gluing her eyes back to the photos on his wall. Something safe to look at.
“You’re allowed to look,” he says. He sounds amused, like he’s teasing her.
“No, I’m pretty sure I’m not.” Her voice is an octave higher than usual. He lets out a laugh. She does not let her gaze stray from the wall.
“I forgot it was time for inspections. I would have cleaned up the place more.” She hums in response, not trusting herself to speak, and he continues. “Please tell me my score isn’t too bad? I’ve actually been doing okay this summer.” How is he able to have a conversation right now? He’s practically naked, literally dripping wet, looking like something out of an elaborate and obscene daydream that she would never dare mention aloud. He should really put a shirt on so she can concentrate. “Annabeth?” he calls to her. Probably concerned about why she’s acting like this. A valid worry, to be honest. She’s a little concerned, too.
“I should get going. Cabins to check, and… yeah. Cabins. Lots of cabins.” She cringes at her words, which border on incomprehensible. She turns on her heel and makes her way to the door before risking one last look over her shoulder. Yup, he’s still there, and yup, he’s still shirtless. He’s also tilting his head at her and biting his lip, like he’s trying to get a read on her. She wants to kiss that stupid look off of his face.
Oh gods. She needs to leave. Without another word, she makes a bee-line to the door, closing it firmly shut behind her.
She decides that taking a short walk to collect herself before continuing inspection is in her best interests.
//
So she’s a bit of a mess. In addition to the whole seeing-him-half-naked ordeal, she’s also been struggling with Percy’s tendency towards physical touch. It was hard enough when she was seriously crushing on him, and any light touch—arms brushing, a reassuring hand on her shoulder—would set her aflame. But now, Percy is even more willing and open with affection, and she’s pretty sure it’s going to drive her crazy.
Annabeth doesn’t have a lot of experience with physical touch. Her father was never especially forthcoming with his love and affection. Helen had little affection towards Annabeth at all. The first time she really had a taste of physical connection was from Luke and Thalia, when they’d been runaways together. But then Thalia got turned into a tree and Luke became all distant, and that avenue for affection quickly became discontinued. And Chiron was never the sort to give out a ton of hugs. Mostly just somewhat-approving smiles, if anything.
So when Percy just takes her hand as they sit in the dining pavilion together, Annabeth doesn’t know what to do. It’s… nice. She likes touching him, likes the warmth of his skin touching hers, even if it's just his hand resting on hers. A few times, while sitting with the camp at the campfire, he’s slung his arm along her shoulders, pulling her in closer to him and making her heart race. It makes her feel electric, like she’s been zapped with lightning. Or thrown into freezing cold water. That might be a more appropriate metaphor. It makes her breath catch in her throat, makes all her nerve endings come alive. That’s the confusing thing. She likes what he’s doing, likes getting to touch him. But it’s still causing her wires to short circuit.
It makes her feel a little bit like an animal caught in a trap. Her eyes go wide and her breathing stills, and even though in theory she likes the physical touch, it puts her on edge. She wants to run, and hide, and disappear out of sight so Percy never sees her again and never realizes how much of an effect he has on her. Except, she does not want that, because that would mean Percy would never look at her again. And she likes it when he looks at her. Just how she likes it when he touches her. It’s just— it’s terrifying.
The issue extends beyond just reacting to Percy’s touch. She’s not sure what’s expected of her in terms of initiating contact. Is she supposed to kiss him on the cheek or something? She’s not sure she can. Not when her entire body freezes at any touch from him these days. If she tried to do anything—the thought of which alone is overwhelming—she would probably pass out. And that would just make everyone become far too concerned with her wellbeing.
But gods does she want to touch him. She craves the kind of casual physical affection that she’s seen but never experienced first-hand, and she wants it with Percy . She wants to lean into his embrace and let him wrap his arms around her. She wants to sit in between his legs and drape her hands casually on his thighs. It’s been keeping her up at night, actually, imagining getting to touch him. Imagining running her hands through his hair, tugging his head towards hers. It’s pretty pathetic, if she thinks about it, that she’s been kissing him for a week but is still too nervous to hold his hand. Or, like, tell him how she feels.
It’s after the third night in a row of restlessly tossing and turning in her bunk, mind too focused on replaying every interaction they’ve shared since the kiss, that she decides it’s time to get some outside advice.
//
She corners Clarisse after a sparring session, letting the other campers leave before shutting the gate of the training arena. Annabeth stands with her back against the wooden gate, arms crossed in front of her in an attempt to retain some composure. Clarisse lets out a dramatic groan as she approaches.
“What is it?” the older girl asks, looking like she’s already over whatever Annabeth is about to drop on her.
“I, uh, I need some advice,” Annabeth says.
Clarisse raises an eyebrow. “And you’re coming to me about it?”
Annabeth nods. She’s already regretting this. “Some… relationship advice.”
Clarisse holds Annabeth’s eyes for a few long, uncomfortable seconds, before breaking away and letting out a gruff laugh. “No way, Princess. Go find some Aphrodite kid. I’m not doing this with you.”
But Annabeth isn’t giving up that easily. There’s too much at stake, and she’d like to minimize the number of people she has to be vulnerable with. “You’re the only one I can go to. I’m not going to some random Aphrodite kid I don’t know.” She starts digging into the ground with the toe of her shoe. “It’s not like there’s a ton of people in relationships that I could talk to. Grover’s not gonna be any help. Katie’s been super busy. I would normally go to Silena about this, but…” Clarisse’s eyes narrow at their deceased friend’s name, and Annabeth feels a chill flow through her. She quickly shakes her head. “Nevermind, this was a bad idea. Just forget I—”
“Wait,” Clarisse interrupts, sounding tired. “We can talk. For Silena. Just this once.”
Immediately, Annabeth feels a weight taken off her shoulders. “Really? Oh, Clarisse, thank you so much! I’ve been—”
Clarisse waves her hands, stopping Annabeth from continuing. “Nope. I’m not doing this right now. I’m gonna go shower, and then I’m gonna eat dinner. I’ll find you tomorrow or something.”
Annabeth nods. Clarisse agreed; Annabeth can be patient now. “Thank you so much, Clarisse, I mean it.”
The other girl grunts, avoiding Annabeth’s eyes. “Whatever. Now get out of my way.”
//
The following Friday, Chiron tells the head counselors that he is going to be out of camp for the evening. He has to oversee some communications between the Party Ponies or something. Annabeth doesn’t pay too much attention to what he says, because she knows there’s one thing that always happens when Chiron leaves Camp unattended for an evening— they party. It used to be something she resented, because she thought it was immature for all the older campers to get really drunk the moment they were unsupervised. But as she got older herself and had to witness first-hand the trauma and grief that inevitably comes alongside being a demigod, she understood more that these parties were an attempt at reclaiming the carefree youths that had been stolen from them all. And after such a traumatic summer, she knows this party is going to be unparalleled.
So she turns a blind eye when she sees the Stolls carrying some suspiciously sized boxes back onto camp property.
“Do you want to go to the party tonight?” Percy asks her at dinner that evening. They’re sitting at the Poseidon table together, because rules be damned when Chiron isn’t there to monitor them, and he’s caught her a bit off guard.
“Do you want to go?” she returns. She knows he isn’t typically a fan of alcohol, or of being around people who are drinking said alcohol, so she hadn’t imagined the party would be something he’s interested in. She hadn’t been planning on going. Not that she’d considered much one way or the other, besides contemplating how much of a pain tomorrow will be if all her other counselors are hung over.
He shrugs. “Kinda, yeah,” he admits to her. “It’s kind of nice to be with everyone and just having fun, instead of, like, training for a war together.”
She nods, agreeing. There’s something wonderfully gratifying about being around the other campers for something that isn’t bad news. And she’s never been to one of these with Percy before. “Then yeah, I’d like to go.”
//
Just as she’d predicted, the night’s party is bigger than any she can remember. The Hephaestus Cabin is hosting, which is unusual, but they’ve rigged up an impressive sound and light system, so there’s a spinning disco ball in the center of the ceiling and multicolored lights shining off of it and upbeat music blasting throughout the cabin. The bunk beds and desks and other furniture items have been pushed against the walls, revealing a much larger space for partying and dancing than she’d expected.
In all honesty, the energy of the party is feeling a little manic. Travis Stoll is riding piggyback on someone, heading towards the keg that’s set up in the corner. Clarisse and some of the Ares kids are doing push-up contests on the floor in between shots. Sixteen year olds shouldn’t be forced to mourn the deaths of so many siblings and friends, she supposes, and this is how they’ve chosen to cope for the evening.
Regardless of how bacchanal the party might be, Annabeth finds that she’s enjoying herself. She makes her way to the elaborate bar set-up that the Hephaestus kids constructed. Pollux, who has been appointed de facto bartender, grins as she approaches. “Hey, Annabeth! Can I get you something to drink?” With a row of mixers in front of him and his curly hair tied back with a bandana, he looks more in his element than Annabeth can remember. She remembers a conversation the two of them had shared a few summers prior, when he’d told her that he likes camp parties because he likes helping people forget about all the hard stuff.
“Nothing too strong, please,” she requests. He snaps his fingers a few times in thought, before reaching for some bottles and pouring them into a mixing glass. Then he whips out a cocktail glass—she’s not sure where they got ahold of those, but she’s not gonna ask—and pours the drink over some ice. Then he skewers some olives with a toothpick and plops it onto the side.
“One dirty martini, extra olives,” he says, handing her the glass. It’s salty, which she hadn’t really expected, but she likes it. The olives are a great addition, of course.
Then someone’s calling her name, so she thanks Pollux, and spins to see Katie and Nyssa approaching her, each with a drink in hand. “You look so pretty, Annabeth!” Katie says to her, looking her up and down for a moment and then pulling her into a hug. “Is Percy here?”
“Not yet.”
Katie hums. “Well, he’s gonna be really happy when he gets here. You look hot.” Annabeth feels her face heating up, and she knows it’s from more than just her drink.
Nyssa knocks her elbow into Katie’s arm, making the other girl yelp. “Don’t mind her,” Nyssa says. “She’s just excited that the two of you are together now.”
Katie sticks out her tongue. Then she waves her hand dismissively. “Whatever.” She turns to Nyssa. “Do you think we would be able to grow weed on camp property?”
Nyssa’s face scrunches in concentration. “Are you asking if it’s possible, or if we’d be allowed to? Because you know Chiron would shut that down immediately. Mr D, on the other hand…”
She stays with Katie and Nyssa, not really listening as the girls keep talking. She’s focused on what Nyssa said, that Katie is excited about Annabeth and Percy being together. How obvious had she been? How many people around camp had known? She supposes a good amount, seeing as a large group of them had thrown her and Percy into the lake together immediately after they’d kissed. But it makes her feel a little uncomfortable, to have something so personal about her known by so many others. She keeps sipping her drink, nodding along to the girls’ conversation, all the while scanning the room, trying to find him.
And then Percy’s there. Her heart spins around in her chest when she sees him entering the cabin, wearing his orange camp shirt and looking a little lost. He hasn’t really been to these parties before, since he isn’t here year-round. He’s looking around the cabin, taking it all in, and Annabeth can only restrain herself for about ten seconds before she sets her drink down, says farewell to Katie and Nyssa, and crosses the room over to him. He grins when he sees her, which causes her to falter in her step just the tiniest bit. And then he opens his arms, and she enters his embrace, feeling his warmth and letting herself soak in it.
“You look really pretty,” he murmurs against her ear, and it sends a chill down her spine.
“You look really pretty, too,” she tells him. Her brain isn’t functioning on a high enough capacity to say much more than that, even if it is an absolute understatement. The multicolored lights make his skin seem to glow in a way that looks almost ethereal, and it’s so obvious that he’s got ichor running through his veins right along with his blood. He is beautiful and enrapturing and celestial and yes, really really pretty. He grins at her.
“Do you want to grab something to drink?” he asks.
It takes her a moment to process his words. “I thought you didn’t really drink?”
He shrugs. “Not normally. But everyone seems to be having a good time right now. And I trust you to keep me safe.”
She’s speechless. She doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to express the gratitude she feels at being trusted like that. But she’s feeling a little bold, courtesy of her own drink, so she leans up on her toes and presses a kiss to his cheek. When she pulls away, he’s looking at her intently, searching for something in her eyes. He must find what he’s looking for, because he smiles at her again, and lets her lead him to the bar.
The party is fun. Now that Percy’s here, she stays with him for the most part, relishing in being able to stand by his side. The alcohol gives her the confidence she’s been craving, so she nudges Percy until his arm is around her shoulder and their torsos are pressed together. They talk with their friends, and everyone laughs more freely than they have in months, and when she tugs him into the center of the cabin to start dancing, she feels like they’re flying.
She doesn’t recognize the song that’s playing but it’s upbeat and warm. He twirls her around, his hand guiding her, and she lets him lead, giggling as she spins. Their friends start to join them. None of them are particularly good dancers, with more time spent learning to sword fight than other, more traditional teen activities, but Will Solace must have some classical training because he starts doing pirouettes and he’s able to get an impressive number of rotations in before he stumbles. Drew Tanaka from Aphrodite is able to do some moves with her hips that Annabeth can’t even comprehend. Connor and Travis start doing some surprisingly awful break-dancing, and she’s laughing and feeling ridiculous and light. It’s silly and juvenile and just so good.
The song starts to fade into something slower. This song she recognizes— Kiss Me , by Sixpence None The Richer. She slows, letting her momentum bring her closer to Percy. Immediately his hands move to steady her, resting at her waist. He starts to move, starts to sway along with the rhythm of the song, but she can’t move yet. She’s struck by the look in his eyes, the warmth and compassion.
He lets out a laugh, full and buoyant. “Are you gonna dance with me, Wise Girl?” he asks, grinning at her, as she realizes she’s still not moving. Her cheeks heat as she nods and lets herself move with him. If his eyes are the sea, then she’s a ship raising her sails, ready to put her trust in him and soar.
//
She doesn’t really remember how, but by the end of the night, they end up in the Poseidon Cabin together. She had walked him back, and they’d been talking, and he’d offered for her to come inside so they could keep talking. And then he’d said something kind of stupid but really sweet, so she’d kissed him. And one kiss had led to another, and then they were on his bed.
She’s on top of him, and the heat of his body beneath her spurs her forward. She’s propped up, with her knees bracketing his hips and her hands on either side of his head, and she’s kissing him with everything that she has.
She had no idea that this kind of kissing and touching could be so intoxicating, millions of leagues stronger than any alcohol she’d sipped earlier. She curls her fingers into his hair, tugging gently just to see how he responds. He moans, low and rumbling through his body, and it makes her shiver. Her other hand grips his t-shirt as she holds on, trying to anchor herself.
She needs to be closer. She feels a flash of self-consciousness as she realizes all the places where they’re already touching. Percy’s hands are on her hips, hooked along the belt loops of her shorts. One of his thumbs brushes upwards, trailing gently along the exposed skin beneath her tank top, and she lets out a staggered breath that he immediately drinks in. Then his hands move. One travels to her lower back, slipping underneath her tank top as he traces patterns onto her skin. The other hand drags up along her side, outside her shirt but still touching, finally coming to rest at the bottom of her bra.
It’s so much. She wants to lean into his hand, really feel his touch. She readjusts her position, lowering herself down so she’s resting atop him. Their legs tangle together, and then his thigh is pressed in between her legs, and she gasps. He freezes beneath her, and she opens her eyes. She’s panting, she realizes. She’s completely out of breath. Percy’s looking up at her, with a look of hesitation and wonder on his eyes. Reverence, maybe. Ever so slowly, he moves his leg between hers again, and she can’t hold back the sound of pleasure that overtakes her. Even with all the layers of clothes, the feeling of him between her legs makes her want to combust.
She’s never felt this before. It’s electric, it’s all consuming. She wants more. It’s, it’s…
She can’t do this anymore.
She jumps away from him, springing up from the bed and backing up until she’s against the far wall. She can’t catch her breath. Her chest feels heavy, like it’s being squeezed, but the rest of her body feels like it’s flying. It’s all very confusing.
Percy immediately sits up. “Is everything okay? Are you alright?” He looks nervous, looking up and down her like he’s afraid he broke her. “Did I do something wrong?” His hair is all rumpled up, and she realizes she’s the one who did that.
“No, it’s all okay,” she breathes. She can’t take her eyes off of him. His lips are a little swollen from all the times she’d bit them, and his shirt has ridden up his stomach. He shouldn’t be… he shouldn’t be allowed to look like that. It isn’t fair. “I just… I need to go. G’night.”
And then, for the second time in a matter of days, she bolts from his cabin.
//
The next morning, she grabs a cup of coffee from the dining pavilion before high-tailing to a spot by archery range that she knows will be empty at this time of day. And if someone were to ask, no, she’s not avoiding anybody, especially not Percy. She just… wants a little peace and quiet, that’s all.
It just doesn't make any sense that he likes her. If he wasn’t the most kind and loyal person she knew, she’d suspect that this was all some prank, some elaborate joke where she’s convinced herself that Percy Jackson could actually like Annabeth Chase. Because Annabeth… she’s not— she’s not nice . She’s sharp and she snaps and she’s temperamental. And she yells, and takes her aggression out by destroying training dummies. She’s not sweet or nice or giggly or soft. She’s not the type of girl who gets to be a girlfriend. She feels like she’s tricked Percy somehow into thinking she’s someone she’s not, and he’s going to realize his mistake and leave her in the dust.
But then he’ll smile at her, all bright eyes and teeth showing, and she feels like she’s melting. He is the sun and she is Icarus and she cannot help but fly closer to his warmth, even if it’s going to make her fall without control.
She hasn’t been able to stop thinking about last night. About the way he looked at her, the way he touched her. The way she wanted him to keep going. It’s terrifying, the hold he has on her right now; physically and emotionally and the whole range in between. She’s never let herself get so attached to someone before. It’s barely been a week, and she knows that if something were to go wrong, if he were to reject her in some way, that she would break. If she had to endure the ordeal of thinking she would lose him to some inescapable prophecy only for him to leave because of her own inadequacies, she’s not sure what she would do.
If she carries her invisibility cap around with her the entire day in order to avoid having any sort of conversation with him, then that’s nobody’s business but her own.
//
“Does he want to have sex with me?” she blurts out all of the sudden. Clarisse raises an eyebrow, looking entirely unimpressed. They’re in the Arts & Crafts pavilion, and it’s after hours, because Annabeth needs to vocalize the things she’s feeling, and she can not let anyone eavesdrop on this conversation.
Clarisse leans back against one of the columns, arms crossed in front of her. “Are we talking about Prissy right now?” she asks, sounding bored.
“Don’t call him that,” Annabeth says on instinct. Then she nods. “But yes. Percy.”
Clarisse lets out a dramatic groan. “So why are you asking me about this? How am I supposed to know about that?”
“I don’t know… you’re dating Chris. Does Chris want to have sex?”
Clarisse closes her eyes, tilting her head up towards the sky. “Do you see what you’ve left me with, Silena?” Then she looks back to Annabeth. “Look, Owl Head. Chris and I have been dating for over a year. You and Water Boy have been dating for what? A week?” Annabeth nods meekly. “Chances are he’s not ready to have sex yet either. It’s a big step for everyone involved. And it’s been an emotional few months.” Clarisse grimaces. “And—gods, I hate that I’m even saying this—Percy is a good guy. He’s only going to do what you’re comfortable with, even if he might want more. So just freaking talk to him, because that’s the only way to know what he’s thinking.”
Annabeth nods, taking it in. She knows this. She knows he’s good and kind. But— “But what if I’m not good at it?”
Clarisse rolls her eyes. “Then ask him what he likes, I don’t know.”
“What if… what if he doesn’t like me as much as I like him?”
That seems to catch Clarisse off guard, if her silence is anything to go by. She doesn’t say anything for an unbearably long time, and Annabeth is just about to throw on her invisibility cap and sink into oblivion when Clarisse speaks up. “I gotta say, Annabeth, insecurity isn’t a good look on you.”
Annabeth shrinks at her words, and that seems to spur Clarisse onwards. “All this shit you’re saying right now. You’re overthinking it. You like him, he likes you. You guys want to make out sometimes. It’s human. Just talk to the guy and stop bugging me about this, because it’s making me want to punch you.”
Annabeth releases a shaky breath. “Thank you, Clarisse,” she says.
She grunts. “Don’t mention it.”
“It’s just been really confusing recently,” Annabeth says.
Clarisse raises up a hand. “Yeah, no, save that for Fish Boy. We only had this conversation because Silena would kill me if I let you and him get messed up right away. I don’t actually care, and I don’t want to know.”
Annabeth lets out a soft laugh. “Well, regardless, thank you.”
Clarisse grunts. “If anyone else tries to come to me for relationship advice, I will pummel them.” She turns towards the door and starts to exit. “And then you too, because you told someone.”
Once Clarisse is gone, Annabeth grabs her things and begins to make her way to Cabin Three. Clarisse is right. It’s Percy she’s been worried about. Percy, who’s made it perfectly clear that he cares about her. Enough to choose her over godhood and immortality. She can have a damn conversation with him.
//
“I don’t want to have sex,” she says, barging into his cabin. “Um, yet,” she amends, tilting her head to the side, “I don’t want to do it yet.”
Percy is sitting on his bed, a comic book open in his lap, and his jaw is hanging open. His cheeks have darkened. “Uh— okay,” he stammers, looking a bit taken aback.
She nods, satisfied with that answer, then continues. “Also, are we boyfriend and girlfriend?”
“I— I’d like to be?” he says. Then he lets out a laugh. “Annabeth, what’s going on?”
She can feel her cheeks reddening. “I just needed to— needed to clear things up.”
He’s quiet for a moment, looking at her in a peculiar way. Then he closes the comic in his hands and gestures to the spot on the bed next to him. “Will you sit here?” he asks. She hesitates for half a second before crossing the room and sitting down. They’re close but not quite touching— Annabeth feels like she should keep her head for this. He lets out a breath, and her eyes dart over to him. He’s got his eyes tracked to the space in front of him, not looking directly at her. He seems… nervous? Could that be right? “So,” he starts. “You don’t want to have sex.”
Her cheeks heat up. “Not yet, no,” she says.
He nods. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” He looks at her then, and smiles softly, sheepishly. “I don’t want to do that yet, either.”
She breathes out a sigh of relief. “Oh, good.” He raises his eyebrows at that, and somehow, somehow , her face heats up even more. “I didn’t want… if you wanted to, but I wasn’t sure—”
He cuts her off. “Annabeth, it’s okay.” She closes her mouth and he continues. “I like you. Like, really like you.” She shifts in her spot on his bed, not sure how to respond. “And last night felt really good, but I think we went a little too fast.”
She nods. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admits.
“That must be… really hard for you,” he says. And it sounds like it could be a joke, but she knows him, and she knows that he knows her right back.
She doesn’t say anything for a moment. She lets out a breath. “It is,” she tells him.
“I don’t know what I’m doing either,” he says. They’re both quiet for a few long moments, taking in the other’s presence. He’s kicking his legs idly, bouncing them on the side of the bed, and it’s stupidly endearing. Then he says something she isn’t expecting. “Can I hold your hand right now?”
“What?” she asks, startled.
He smiles that stupid lopsided smile at her. “If it’s okay, I’d like to hold your hand?”
She lets out a small breath. “Yeah, that’d be okay,” she tells him. He reaches over to where her hand is resting on her leg and grabs it in his own, intertwining their fingers together. It’s palpable, the relief she feels at the gesture.
Even with all the questions she has about what’s going on between them, the action is so reassuring. She remembers squeezing his hand in the back of the truck, surrounded by zoo animals, back when they were twelve and accused of stealing the lightning bolt and barely even friends. She remembers grabbing his hand when they were deep within the labyrinth, terrified of getting lost but even more terrified of being separated from him. This is their foundation.
“I feel like I’ve only held your hand when we thought we were gonna die,” she says, eyes glued to where their fingers are laced together.
“Do you feel like you’re gonna die now?”
She shakes her head. “Not at all,” she tells him. She cracks a smile. “I don’t remember the last time I felt so secure in being alive.”
“No imminent death-threat prophecies,” he agrees.
She lets out a small laugh. “I actually feel really nice,” she admits, her voice quiet. She likes the way her hand looks in his.
“I do, too. Being here with you.”
The warmth that rushes through her at his words is what encourages her to continue. “I’m sorry I ran out of here last night. And the day before.” She feels the urge to pull her hand away from his, but she holds still when he squeezes reassuringly.
“It’s okay,” he tells her. She risks a glance at his face, and he’s smiling softly, eyes trained on her. “I did worry about you, though.”
“I got nervous,” she says, bashful.
“You don’t have to run from me. You know that, right?” His eyes flit back and forth between her own, the concern evident.
She bites her lip. “I’m starting to realize that.”
He brings their hands up to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to the back of her hand. “And I’m not going anywhere, either. You’re my best friend.”
She exhales. Annabeth doesn't know what she’s doing. She’s in over her head, out of her depth, whatever.
She shifts closer on the bed to him, resting her head on his shoulder.
She really doesn’t like not knowing things. But if Percy’s there with her, maybe she can handle it.