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ANNABETH CHASE -
The campfire crackled loud enough to drown out the waves.
Orange sparks floated into the dark sky like tiny stars, disappearing somewhere above the pine trees surrounding Camp Half-Blood. Music drifted through the night, uneven and loud and alive—someone from Apollo cabin had brought a guitar, someone else a drum, and together they’d managed to turn the aftermath of war into something almost normal.
Campers crowded around the fire in clusters, laughing too loudly, dancing too recklessly, clinging to one another like if they stopped touching for even a second they might remember who wasn’t there anymore.
The Titan War was over.
They had survived.
And apparently, survival called for a party.
Annabeth Chase sat far enough away from the fire that the warmth barely reached her.
She could still hear everything though.
Every laugh.
Every shout.
Every song.
Every reminder.
Her knees were pulled to her chest beneath the pale blue dress Drew Tanaka had practically forced her into earlier that evening. The fabric brushed against her calves whenever the wind shifted. Soft. Pretty. Completely unlike her.
Drew had spent over an hour doing her hair too, separating Annabeth’s long braids carefully before styling them half-up with gold clips stolen from somewhere in Aphrodite cabin.
“You have a stupidly pretty face when you actually try,” Drew had said, sounding personally offended by the fact.
At the time, Annabeth had rolled her eyes, now she wished she’d never bothered.
She’d been stupid enough to hope.
That was the embarrassing part.
Not Percy dancing with Rachel Elizabeth Dare.
Not the way Rachel laughed, bright and easy, while Percy grinned down at her like the world had finally stopped trying to kill him long enough for him to breathe.
Not even the fact Annabeth had spent nearly a whole day waiting for Percy to ask her to dance before realizing he wasn’t going to.
No, the embarrassing part was that she’d genuinely believed tonight meant something.
The war was over.
Nobody was hunting Percy anymore. No prophecy hanging over his head. No looming death. No impossible choices.
Annabeth had thought maybe that meant they could finally—Gods.
She pressed the heel of her palm against her forehead.
Humiliating.
From where she sat near the tree line, she could still see them if she looked hard enough.
Percy’s blonde curls caught firelight every time he moved. Rachel’s red hair looked almost copper beneath the glow.
They fit together strangely well. They looked good together.
Annabeth took another sip of the spiked punch in her cup and immediately regretted it. Too sweet. Too strong. Probably made by a Dionysus kid.
Good.
Maybe if she drank enough, she’d stop feeling like her ribs were caving in.
A twig snapped somewhere behind her.
Annabeth didn’t turn around.
“Whoever’s there can fuck right off.”
Silence.
Then more shuffling.
Closer this time.
Annabeth whipped around instantly, muscles tightening on instinct, fully prepared to tackle whoever had decided tonight was the perfect time to bother her.
Instead she found Connor Stoll standing there.
Messy brown hair.
Crooked grin.
Hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket.
Annabeth blinked.
“Connor?”
He pointed at her lazily.
“Bingo.”
Before she could ask what he was doing, he dropped down beside her in the grass with a dramatic sigh, stretching his legs out in front of him.
Annabeth stared.
“What are you doing?”
“Sitting.”
She rolled her eyes instantly.
“Obviously, but why?”
“Why what?”
“Gods, Connor.” She turned fully toward him. “Why are you sitting?”
He looked at her with the faintest hint of a smirk.
“Because my feet hurt.”
Annabeth gave him the flattest look she could manage.
Connor held it for exactly three seconds before folding.
“Okay, fine,” he muttered. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I just had to get away from…” He gestured vaguely toward the party. “There for a while.”
Annabeth studied him carefully.
She’d known Connor since he was eight years old. Back when he’d followed Luke around like an angry little duckling with scraped knees and sticky fingers. Back before Luke betrayed them. Before Kronos. Before war aged all of them into something sharper around the edges.
Connor was many things.
Annoying.
Sneaky.
An absolute menace.
But he wasn’t a liar.
And if she were being honest, he looked a little like she felt right now.
Tired.
Quiet.
Sad in a way he clearly didn’t want anyone noticing.
Wordlessly, she handed him her cup.
Connor blinked once before taking it.
“Thanks.”
He took a sip, winced dramatically, then handed it back.
Annabeth took another drink herself.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The music carried through the trees in uneven bursts. Somewhere by the fire, someone yelled loud enough to make several people laugh.
Finally, Connor glanced sideways at her.
“So,” he said carefully. “Why are you out here?”
Annabeth huffed a humorless laugh.
“Don’t play dumb.”
Connor shrugged one shoulder.
“Figured it might be better for you to admit it to yourself.”
“I admitted it a long time ago,” she muttered. “It can’t be any more obvious.”
Connor nodded slightly at that. Then, after a pause, he said quietly:
“You look pretty, you know.”
Annabeth looked over immediately, eyebrows raised.
Connor groaned.
“Not like that,” he said quickly. “Gods. I just mean—it’s a shame he missed out on seeing you tonight.”
Her chest tightened painfully.
Annabeth stared down at the cup in her hands.
“If he asked to,” she said softly, “I would.”
Connor frowned.
“What?”
She swallowed.
“See me.” Her voice felt smaller now. “If he asked to see me, I would go back.”
Connor’s expression shifted immediately.
“And he hasn’t.”
Not a question.
Annabeth nodded anyway.
Silence settled between them again. Then she nudged his shoulder lightly.
“I told you my reason,” she said. “Your turn.”
Connor shrugged.
“Same reason as you.”
Annabeth turned toward him.
“Just a different person,” he added quickly.
“Who’s the person?”
Connor immediately went pink. Actually pink.
Annabeth stared in delighted horror.
“Oh my gods.”
Connor shook his head rapidly.
“Nope.”
“Connor.”
“No.”
“Connor.”
“My situation is bad,” he informed her. “I can’t tell you.”
Annabeth gasped dramatically.
“That’s so unfair!”
“What?” Connor threw his hands up defensively. “Just because you’re so obvious with who you drool over doesn’t mean I have to be!”
“You have to tell me.”
“No I don’t.”
“Connor, who am I gonna tell?”
“Perc—”
Annabeth raised an eyebrow.
Connor stopped mid-word.
“Yeah, okay, fine.”
He groaned, dragging both hands down his face.
“It’s, uh…”
He muttered something incomprehensible into his sleeve.
Annabeth blinked.
“Yeah, didn’t hear a single thing.”
Connor glared at her.
“Gods,” he muttered. “It’s…”
“Connor.”
“It’s Katie!”
Silence. Annabeth stared at him.
“…Katie?”
Connor looked deeply unhappy.
“Yes.”
“As in Katie, Katie?”
“Yes.”
“Like Katie with your brother Katie?”
“Gods, Beth.” Connor buried his face in his hands. “Yes.”
Annabeth’s mouth dropped open.
“Wow,” she breathed. “You really are good at hiding that.”
Connor shrugged weakly.
“I can’t exactly show it.”
Annabeth considered that for a moment, then silently handed him the cup again.
Connor snorted quietly before taking a much longer drink this time.
He passed it back.
She drank after him.
For several seconds they sat in silence again.
Then suddenly Connor started laughing.
Annabeth looked over, confused.
Connor was bent forward slightly now, shoulders shaking, eyes glistening under the moonlight as he laughed harder and harder.
“We’re a pretty pathetic pair, aren’t we?”
Annabeth stared at him.
Then she started laughing too. Real laughter this time.
Not sharp or bitter or fake.
Just exhausted and hysterical and painfully honest.
“Gods,” she wheezed. “We really are having a shitty time.”
Connor nearly choked laughing.
The sound echoed softly through the trees while the party continued behind them completely unaware.
Eventually their laughter faded into tired smiles.
Annabeth glanced down at the cup in her hands and frowned.
“We’re out of punch.”
Connor leaned back against the tree behind them.
“It’s probably for the best.”
“Not for me.”
“Then go get more.”
Annabeth looked at him completely unamused.
“Oh, of course,” she deadpanned. “Thank you so much for giving me that idea.”
Connor huffed a laugh and shrugged.
“It might be good,” he said. “Go back and show him what he’s missing.”
Annabeth shook her head immediately.
“I’m not like that, Connor.”
“Why not?”
“We’ve been friends since we were twelve.” Her voice turned quiet again. “He knows what he’s missing. He just doesn’t care.”
Connor didn’t answer. Neither of them looked at each other after that.
Instead they stared out into the dark woods together while the music drifted behind them.
The forest was calmer than the party.
Safer somehow.
After a while Connor suddenly spoke again.
“She kissed me.”
Annabeth turned immediately.
“Katie?”
Connor nodded once.
“Right before the battle.” His voice was rough now. “She said she didn’t want to die without giving us a chance.”
Annabeth’s stomach twisted. She’d heard this story before. Lived it.
“And what did you do?”
Connor looked at her then.
His eyes were shining again.
“I told her I wasn’t right for her.” His laugh came out broken. “That Travis loved her.”
He shook his head hard, staring down at his knees.
Then he covered his face with both hands.
“I’m a fucking idiot, I know,” he muttered. “But I knew how he felt about her. I couldn’t do that. Not to him.”
Annabeth looked at him quietly.
At the way his shoulders curled inward. At the way he hid behind jokes and sarcasm and pranks because it was easier than letting people see him hurting.
And suddenly she understood something she never really had before.
Connor Stoll loved hard.
Quietly.
Self-destructively.
The same way she did.
“I don’t think you’re an idiot, Connor.”
His hands lowered slowly.
Annabeth’s voice softened.
“I think you are so much stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
Connor stared at her for a moment before looking away again.
“I ruined us, Annabeth.” His voice cracked slightly. “She’ll never know how I feel about her.”
“She does.”
Connor frowned.
“You don’t know that—”
“I do.”
He looked back at her then, confused.
Their eyes met.
And suddenly understanding clicked across his face.
He realized that she did know. Because Percy knew too. Had probably always known.
Connor exhaled slowly and nodded once.
“So,” he said after a moment. “What would you recommend?”
Annabeth leaned back slightly against the tree behind her.
“Tell her.”
Connor blinked.
“Be honest with her,” she continued quietly.
“You really think that’ll work?” he asked. “After everything that’s happened?”
Annabeth smiled softly.
“Yes,” she said. “I promise.”
Connor stared at her for a second longer before smiling back.
Then, abruptly, he stood up. He brushed dirt off his pants before holding out a hand toward her.
“Come on,” he announced. “We’re getting more punch.”
Annabeth snorted.
“Glad you’re feeling brave enough to go back in, but I’m fine where I am.”
Connor rolled his eyes dramatically.
“You can either sit here and mope,” he said, “or we can go get drunk on spiked punch. Your choice.”
Annabeth glared at him.
Then she looked out toward the forest.
Then toward the fire.
Toward everything she didn’t think she could survive tonight.
Finally she looked back at Connor’s outstretched hand.
She sighed heavily.
Then, reluctantly, she grabbed it.
—*—
Annabeth regretted agreeing to this almost immediately.
The second Connor helped pull her to her feet, the distant noise of the party came rushing back louder than before, reminding her exactly why she’d hidden herself away in the first place.
Laughter.
Music.
Voices.
Too many people.
Too many eyes.
Connor dusted pine needles off the back of his jacket before glancing toward the glowing bonfire through the trees.
“Well,” he muttered. “Time to risk our lives.”
Annabeth snorted softly despite herself.
She adjusted her grip on the empty cup and started toward camp beside him.
The walk back felt strangely solemn.
Not because either of them wanted to talk—they didn’t.
But because they were both silently preparing themselves for reentry into civilization.
As they neared the edge of the clearing, Annabeth slowed.
The bonfire blazed bright enough now to cast dancing gold over everyone gathered around it. Apollo kids were still butchering a song near the firepit while half the Hermes cabin attempted some kind of drunken group dance nearby.
Percy stood near the flames talking to Rachel.
Annabeth looked away immediately.
Beside her, Connor visibly recoiled at the noise level.
Annabeth leaned closer to him.
“This is an in and out,” she warned quietly. “Understand?”
Connor nodded solemnly.
“Trust me when I say I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”
“Good.”
Then, without another word, they moved.
Honestly, Annabeth had forgotten how terrifyingly stealthy Hermes kids could be.
Connor ducked behind groups with practiced ease, dragging Annabeth with him through shadows and blind spots like they were infiltrating enemy territory instead of stealing alcohol at a camp party.
At one point they crouched behind two laughing Demeter campers while Connor whispered, dead serious:
“Move when they kiss.”
Annabeth stared at him, her face slowly twisting in disgust.
“They’re siblings.”
Connor paused.
“…Right. That’s worse.”
Then they sprinted past anyway.
Annabeth bit back a laugh.
They reached the punch table completely unnoticed. Connor immediately pointed corny finger guns at her.
“Boom,” he whispered. “Professionals.”
Annabeth rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t stop the grin tugging at her mouth.
The punch bowl sat mostly abandoned now, probably because several Dionysus kids had started adding progressively worse things into it over the evening.
Connor grabbed the ladle first, filling Annabeth’s old cup nearly to the brim.
Then he paused.
Looked at her.
Annabeth looked back.
Wordlessly, Connor grabbed another cup.
“That’s smart.”
“I know.”
He filled the second one.
Then Annabeth reached for a third.
Connor looked at her approvingly.
“Now you’re thinking like a criminal.”
“In case of emergencies,” she informed him.
“Obviously.”
A minute later the pair stood there holding three dangerously full cups of spiked punch between them like they’d just committed the world’s greatest heist.
Connor looked at her with a shit-eating grin.
“Okay,” he whispered dramatically. “Now time to sneak back out.”
“Just don’t spill the punch.”
“That sounds like quitter talk.”
Annabeth shook her head, fighting another smile.
Then they started back.
Carefully.
Painfully carefully.
Connor moved first, weaving around campers while Annabeth followed close behind balancing two cups with absolute concentration.
Nobody noticed them.
Nobody stopped them.
They were almost free.
Almost.
“ANNABETH!”
The voice cracked across camp like a whip.
Annabeth froze so hard she nearly dropped a cup.
Beside her Connor stopped dead too.
Slowly—very slowly—they turned toward each other with matching wide eyes.
Shit.
Shit shit shit.
Annabeth knew that voice and tone anywhere.
Because only one person at Camp Half-Blood could sound simultaneously offended, betrayed, and homicidal over someone disappearing from a party.
Drew Tanaka.
Annabeth looked down immediately at her shoes.
“Is everyone staring?”
Connor glanced around once.
“Yup.”
Annabeth closed her eyes briefly.
“Including—”
“Oh definitely.”
“Shit.”
Connor sighed beside her.
“Shit indeed.”
A path was already forming through the crowd.
Campers parted almost instinctively as Drew marched directly toward them like an angry goddess descending upon mortals.
Her dark hair was immaculate despite the humidity, her makeup flawless, her gold jewelry glinting beneath the firelight. She stopped directly in front of Annabeth, arms crossed tightly over her chest, expression absolutely murderous.
“Well.”
Annabeth winced.
“Drew, I—”
“No time for apologies,” Drew snapped immediately. “I got you all dressed up to impress—”
Annabeth’s eyes widened in horror.
She lunged forward instantly and slapped a hand over Drew’s mouth.
Connor choked. Then, recovering at lightning speed, he laughed loudly and awkwardly.
“Aww, Annabeth,” he said in the fakest voice imaginable. “You did all this for me?”
Several nearby campers immediately turned harder toward them.
Drew looked between the two of them slowly.
Annabeth kept her hand firmly clamped over Drew’s mouth.
Connor widened his eyes desperately at Drew in silent pleading.
Please don’t say anything.
Please don’t say anything.
Please don’t say anything.
Drew glared down at both of them like she was debating murder.
Then finally—
She rolled her eyes.
And nodded once.
Annabeth slowly removed her hand.
The second she did, Drew spun sharply toward the crowd still staring.
“What?” she snapped viciously. “Take a picture why don’t you?”
Half the nearby campers immediately pretended they weren’t listening.
Drew scoffed loudly before grabbing both Annabeth and Connor by the wrists.
“Move.”
She dragged them away from the center of camp, weaving through people until they were just far enough from the bonfire that conversations swallowed their voices.
Then she let go.
Drew crossed her arms again.
“Spill,” she ordered. “Now.”
Annabeth and Connor exchanged a glance.
Drew narrowed her eyes.
“Either spill,” she said sweetly, “or I tell everyone who you really got all dressed up for.”
Annabeth folded instantly.
“Gods, fine.”
Connor looked betrayed.
Annabeth ignored him.
“Listen,” she sighed. “I did technically get dressed up for him, but then I saw him dancing with Rachel and I had to get out.” She gestured vaguely toward the woods. “So, in short, I’ve been hiding in the forest drinking spiked punch.”
Drew stared at her carefully.
Trying to determine whether she was lying.
Annabeth held the stare evenly.
Eventually Drew’s expression softened—only slightly, and she turned toward Connor.
“And what’s your story?”
Connor shrugged casually.
“Just here for my good friend, Annabeth.” He smiled brightly.
Drew looked utterly unimpressed.
“You’re lying,” she informed him flatly. “But I honestly couldn’t care less about what’s going on in that wrinkleless brain of yours, so you get a pass.”
Connor visibly relaxed.
“Thank gods.”
Then Drew turned back to Annabeth.
“So,” she said. “What’s your plan then?”
Annabeth shrugged weakly.
“Wait till summer’s over,” she murmured. “Let him go back to his normal life with her. Probably leave him alone.”
Drew stared at her like she’d just spoken another language.
“Gods, no,” she said immediately. “Fight for him. Argue with the girl like you used to!”
Annabeth only sighed tiredly.
“I’m tired of fighting.”
Drew frowned.
“I’m tired of choosing him,” Annabeth admitted quietly, “when he’s had every opportunity to choose me back and hasn’t.”
Drew still looked unconvinced.
So Annabeth added softly:
“I’m tired, Drew.”
The irritation faded slightly from Drew’s face, replaced instead with understanding. Real understanding.
Annabeth suddenly felt far too exposed standing there.
Then Drew’s eyes shifted upward.
Past Annabeth’s shoulder.
Her expression changed again.
Slowly.
Into a smirk.
Annabeth frowned slightly.
Normally she would’ve been too curious not to see what Drew was looking at, but in all honesty, she was scared that if she moved, Drew would remember how long she’d spent on Annabeths hair.
So in short, she didn’t move a muscle.
Drew looked back at them.
Then, strangely, her eyes landed on Connor’s neck.
“Hm,” she hummed thoughtfully.
Connor frowned.
“What?”
Drew suddenly started digging through her tiny crossbody bag.
Annabeth watched in confusion as Drew rummaged around inside it for several seconds before apparently finding absolutely nothing.
Weird.
Then Drew stepped closer to Connor.
“You have dirt on your neck,” she informed him casually.
Before Connor could react, Drew rubbed her thumb roughly against the side of his neck.
“There.”
Connor blinked.
“…Thanks?”
“You two are free to go.”
Annabeth stared at her.
“That’s it? Really?”
“Yup.” Drew waved dismissively. “Now go ahead before I change my mind.”
Annabeth and Connor looked at each other in complete confusion. Then simultaneously decided not to question it.
“Okay,” Annabeth said slowly.
They turned quickly.
Ready to flee.
Then Drew called out again.
Loud enough for half the nearby campers to hear.
“Connor!”
He stopped.
“Turn your head to the left for me.”
Connor looked at Annabeth helplessly.
Annabeth sighed heavily.
“Just do as she says.”
Connor obeyed reluctantly.
The second he turned his head—
Half the party went quiet.
Annabeth frowned immediately.
What the hell—
Drew smirked.
“Just as I suspected,” she said smoothly. “You two can go now.”
Annabeth stared at her another second longer before deciding she genuinely did not want to know.
“Run,” Connor whispered.
“Already planning on it.”
And then they bolted.
Straight back toward the woods with their stolen punch.
Completely oblivious.
Completely unaware of the exact moment Percy Jackson’s expression darkened across the fire and he had the misfortune of Drew witnessing it.
Or the fact that Drew Tanaka casually slipped a tiny eyeshadow palette back into her purse once they were gone.
A palette that just so happened to contain the perfect deep purple shade.
A shade that, coincidentally, looked remarkably like a hickey when smeared onto someone’s neck beneath low firelight.
Really, it was tragic timing.
A complete accident.
Just terrible luck that Drew had heard Annabeth say she was tired of fighting for someone who wouldn’t fight for her back—
And then immediately spotted Percy staring at Annabeth so adoringly her heart almost melted.
It was also deeply unfortunate that Percy’s expression had shifted into something burning and jealous the second Connor entered the equation.
Drew had only been trying to help.
She was an Aphrodite girl after all.
—*—
Annabeth woke up feeling like someone had cracked her skull open with a sledgehammer.
For one blissful second, she remained perfectly still beneath her blankets, eyes closed, mind foggy and slow.
Then the sunlight hit her face.
Pain exploded behind her eyes so violently she groaned aloud and shoved half her pillow over her head.
“Oh my gods,” she croaked.
Her mouth tasted awful.
Her head hurt.
Her stomach felt vaguely unstable.
And somewhere outside, some cheerful Apollo camper was singing.
Annabeth considered murder.
The memories from last night came back slowly and in pieces.
The party.
The bonfire.
Percy dancing with Rachel.
Connor.
Spiked punch.
A lot of spiked punch.
Wait…
Annabeth cracked one eye open carefully.
How much punch had they drank?
She vaguely remembered three cups.
Then four.
Then Connor had somehow convinced one of the Dionysus kids to let them refill the cups directly from the bowl.
Annabeth groaned again and rolled onto her back.
Never again.
Absolutely never again.
The cabin felt painfully bright. Every tiny sound felt amplified directly inside her skull. Someone across the room dropped a book and Annabeth physically flinched.
“Fucking gods,” she muttered.
“Language,” Malcolm called automatically from somewhere nearby.
Annabeth cracked an eye open just enough to glare at him from across the Athena cabin.
Malcolm immediately raised both hands.
“Actually, never mind. You look like death.”
“Feel worse.”
That earned a snort from Brontë somewhere near the window.
Annabeth buried her face back into her pillow.
Eventually, after far too much suffering, she forced herself out of bed.
It took effort.
Real effort.
The kind normally reserved for battle.
She dressed slowly, pulling on camp clothes with all the enthusiasm of someone preparing for execution. Her braids were thankfully still mostly intact from last night, though several had become frizzy from god knows what.
When she finally looked toward the sunlight streaming through the windows again, pain stabbed behind her eyes immediately.
“Nope.”
She dug through her nightstand until she found sunglasses.
Then she put them on.
Then, after a moment of genuine consideration, she grabbed a second pair and shoved them into her pocket too.
Just in case.
You never knew when someone might accidentally knee you in the face during training.
Preparedness was important.
Even hungover.
When she finally stumbled out of the cabin, camp already buzzed with activity around her.
Something felt weird.
Not wrong exactly.
Just…
Off.
People kept looking at her.
Not unusual.
Annabeth was used to attention at camp.
But this felt different somehow.
Smug.
Like everyone knew something she didn’t.
A group of Hermes campers passed her whispering aggressively before one of them grinned and gave her a thumbs up.
Annabeth blinked slowly at him through her sunglasses.
“…Okay?”
The camper laughed and kept walking.
Weird.
Another person high-fived her on the way to breakfast.
Annabeth stared after them in complete confusion.
Normally she would’ve investigated immediately.
Questioned people.
Analyzed behavior patterns.
Drawn conclusions.
Unfortunately, thinking currently felt like someone scraping her brain against concrete.
So instead she decided not to care.
Breakfast was somehow worse.
The dining pavilion smelled too strong.
People were too loud.
Everything was too bright.
Annabeth dropped into her usual seat at the Athena table with a grimace and immediately lowered her head into her arms.
“Don’t talk to me.”
Malcolm slid a plate of food toward her cautiously.
“You should probably eat.”
Annabeth made a wounded sound into the table. Brontë snorted, patting her younger sister’s head lightly.
Then someone approached the Athena table.
Annabeth barely noticed until Malcolm suddenly straightened.
“No.”
Annabeth lifted her head slightly.
A younger camper stood nearby looking weirdly excited.
“I just wanted to ask—”
“No,” Brontë interrupted immediately.
The camper blinked.
“…ugh, whatever.”
Then they left.
Annabeth frowned weakly behind her sunglasses, “What was that?”
“Nothing,” Malcolm said far too quickly.
Annabeth narrowed her eyes slightly.
Unfortunately, the motion hurt. So she stopped.
Over the next twenty minutes, it happened repeatedly.
People kept approaching.
Malcolm and Brontë kept shutting them down instantly.
One Apollo kid actually tried to sit beside Annabeth before Brontë physically pointed them away without explanation.
Annabeth watched this happen in exhausted confusion.
“What are you two doing?”
“Protecting your peace,” Brontë replied solemnly.
Annabeth stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
“It means eat your pancakes.”
She was hungry. Her mind was mush. And she didn’t have it in her to fight.
So she did as she was told.
By the time breakfast ended, Annabeth’s headache had somehow evolved into sentient life.
The training arena sounded quieter than the rest of camp, which made it the only tolerable location currently in existence.
So that’s where she went.
Notebook tucked beneath her arm. Sunglasses still firmly on.
Campers sparred across the arena while Annabeth settled herself onto the benches nearby, prepared to critique technique and strategy like usual.
At least that had been the plan.
Instead she managed approximately seven notes before her concentration dissolved completely.
Finally, with a defeated groan, Annabeth stretched out across the bench and laid flat on her back.
One arm over her eyes.
Notebook abandoned beside her.
“Please,” she mumbled toward the heavens, “make it stop hurting.”
No gods answered.
Rude.
Time passed strangely after that.
Annabeth drifted somewhere between consciousness and sleep while swords clashed faintly nearby.
Eventually shadows blocked the sunlight hitting her face.
Someone was standing over her.
Annabeth didn’t bother moving.
“Who is that?” she mumbled tiredly.
A familiar voice answered slowly.
“Connor.”
Something about his voice sounded gutted.
Scratchy.
Raw.
Annabeth frowned slightly and pulled her sunglasses down enough to look up.
Connor stood over her looking awful.
His eyes were watery.
His hair was messier than usual.
And he looked like he hadn’t slept at all.
Annabeth sat up immediately.
“What happened?”
Connor wiped quickly at one eye before shrugging too casually.
“I talked to Katie.”
Annabeth’s expression softened instantly.
“Oh.”
She shifted over slightly and patted the bench beside her.
“Come on.”
Connor sat heavily beside her.
For a second neither of them spoke. Then Annabeth reached into her pocket and held out the backup sunglasses.
Connor blinked once.
Then laughed weakly.
“You brought extras?”
“I planned ahead.”
“You’re incredible.”
“I know.”
He took them gratefully and slid them on with an exaggerated sigh of relief.
“Okay, wow. That’s way better.”
“Told you.”
Connor leaned back against the bench beside her.
For a while they just sat there in silence watching campers train below them.
Then finally Connor spoke.
“I told her everything.”
Annabeth looked over.
Connor stared straight ahead as he continued quietly.
“All of it.” He swallowed hard. “Like—everything everything.”
Annabeth stayed silent, letting him talk.
Connor rubbed both hands over his face tiredly.
“I don’t even remember half of what I said,” he admitted. “I just know I started talking and then suddenly I couldn’t stop.”
Annabeth could picture it perfectly.
Six cups of spiked punch.
Connor already emotional.
Katie standing in front of him.
Yeah.
Disaster.
“I told her how long I’ve loved her,” he continued softly. “How stupid I felt watching Travis like her too. How guilty I felt every time she smiled at me.” He laughed shakily. “I basically ripped my heart out and handed it to her.”
Annabeth’s chest tightened painfully.
Connor kept talking.
“And by the end of it we were both crying.” He looked down at his hands. “Like genuinely sobbing.”
Annabeth smiled slightly despite herself.
“That sounds really sweet.”
“Yeah.” Connor huffed quietly. “The problem is…” His expression crumpled, “She didn’t say anything.”
Annabeth frowned.
“What?”
“She just stood there.” Connor swallowed. “The entire time. Didn’t interrupt once. Didn’t say anything back.”
Connor laughed bitterly.
“And because apparently I’m the dumbest person alive, I panicked.”
Annabeth already knew where this was going.
“I thought her silence meant she was rejecting me,” Connor admitted miserably. “And I was drunk and emotional and freaking out so I got pissed off and told her to forget it.”
Annabeth covered her face briefly.
“Connor.”
“I know.”
“No, genuinely, what is wrong with you?”
“I KNOW.”
She winced at how loud his voice got. He groaned and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“Then I stormed off like some dramatic idiot from a Greek tragedy.”
“That part is kind of on brand for us.”
Connor pointed at her immediately.
“Don’t group me into your emotional disasters.”
“You confessed your love and then ran away before the girl could answer.”
Connor paused.
“…Whatever.”
Annabeth snorted softly.
Connor looked over at her then, expression miserable again.
“I feel like such an asshole.”
Annabeth studied him quietly for a moment. Then she nudged his shoulder lightly.
“You were drunk.”
“Still.”
“You were honest.”
Connor made a face.
“Yeah, but now I have to live with the consequences of that.”
Annabeth leaned back slightly.
“The consequences being?”
“She probably hates me.”
Annabeth rolled her eyes beneath her sunglasses.
“Katie Gardner kissed you before battle because she thought she might die,” she pointed out. “I really don’t think she hates you.”
Connor looked unconvinced.
Annabeth sighed softly.
“She probably just didn’t know what to say.”
Connor picked at the sleeve of his shirt quietly.
“Maybe.”
Below them, a sword clanged loudly against a shield.
Annabeth winced immediately.
“Can they not?” she muttered.
Connor laughed weakly.
“You really are dying.”
“I’ve seen hell. This feels worse.”
“That’s dramatic.”
“And true.”
Connor smiled a little at that.
Annabeth rested her head back against the wooden bench, eyes hidden behind dark lenses while the wind shifted softly around them.
Somewhere in the distance campers laughed.
Life moved on.
The war was over.
And somehow that felt stranger than the fighting ever had. She didn’t think the lack of impending doom really matched Camp Halfblood.
Connor tilted his head slightly toward her.
“So what about you?”
Annabeth already knew what he meant.
She stared out across the arena quietly.
There wasn’t really anything left to say about Percy anymore.
The hurt was still there obviously. Deep enough that she thought it might stay forever.
But underneath it sat something else now too.
Tired acceptance.
She’d spent years fighting for Percy Jackson. Years choosing him over and over and over again. And maybe that had been enough once. Maybe it had almost become something.
But he’d made his choice.
Rachel.
His mortal world.
A future that didn’t include her.
Annabeth swallowed slowly.
“I think…” She paused carefully. “I think I’m done hoping.”
Connor looked at her immediately. It was so pitiful she didn’t even have it in her to look back at him.
Annabeth smiled faintly anyway.
“It’s okay,” she said softly. “Really.”
She lied through her teeth.
—*—
DREW TANAKA -
Drew Tanaka had never particularly liked Percy Jackson.
Oh, she respected him.
That was different.
You didn’t survive this long at Camp Half-Blood without respecting Percy Jackson. The boy was terrifying when he wanted to be. Loyal to a fault. Reckless enough to challenge gods. Powerful enough to survive doing it.
But liking him?
No.
That had always been more Silena’s thing.
Silena had adored Percy.
Saw goodness in everybody. Softened sharp edges. Believed people deserved patience and understanding and second chances.
Drew had inherited none of that.
Which was unfortunate for Percy Jackson.
Because Drew had spent half the night replaying the image of Annabeth Chase quietly saying:
“I’m tired of choosing him when he’s had every opportunity to choose me back and hasn’t.”
And the thing was?
Drew knew heartbreak.
Not personally—Drew rarely allowed herself to care enough for that—but she recognized it in other people. Saw it in the way Annabeth’s shoulders had slumped. The exhaustion in her voice. The kind of hurt that only came after years of hoping.
Years.
Annabeth had loved Percy Jackson since they were kids.
Everybody knew it.
And maybe Percy was stupid enough not to realize exactly what he had standing in front of him last night, but Drew certainly wasn’t.
Annabeth had looked beautiful.
Not “pretty for Annabeth.”
Not “cute once she cleaned up.”
Beautiful.
The kind that made people stop mid-conversation.
The kind that turned heads.
And Percy Jackson had still spent half the evening dancing with Rachel Elizabeth Dare like he’d forgotten the world existed outside her orbit.
Drew had wanted to hit him with a chair.
Then she’d seen the way Percy stared at Annabeth once she showed back up with Connor.
And suddenly things got interesting.
Percy Jackson had looked jealous.
Violently jealous.
Drew smiled to herself as she walked through camp the next morning. The memory alone nearly made her day worthwhile.
The best part?
Percy had no idea she knew.
Oh, Drew saw everything.
The narrowed eyes. The clenched jaw. The way Percy’s attention locked onto Connor’s neck the second Drew revealed the “hickey.”
Absolutely priceless.
Which was why Drew had decided, upon waking up that morning, that Percy Jackson’s day deserved to be horrible.
Not ruin-his-life horrible. She wasn’t Luke Castellan.
Just enough psychological warfare to make him suffer.
As a treat.
She spotted him near the canoe lake around midmorning.
Perfect.
Percy sat on the dock beside Grover, tossing pebbles into the water while looking deeply unhappy about the state his life was in.
Excellent.
Drew immediately changed course.
Two Aphrodite girls trailed beside her chatting idly, though both went suspiciously quiet the second they noticed Percy nearby.
Drew smiled sweetly.
“Oh my gods,” she said loudly. “Did you guys see Connor and Annabeth together last night?”
Percy’s shoulders stiffened instantly.
Hooked already.
One of the girls caught on immediately. Drew thanked Silena distantly that she had trained their sisters so well.
“Totally,” she said. “They were kind of cute. In a puppy love way.”
Percy threw a pebble hard enough to skip violently across the lake.
Grover glanced between them nervously.
Drew continued like she hadn’t noticed.
“I know, right? They disappeared together for like half the party.”
Percy stood abruptly.
“I’m leaving.”
Drew blinked innocently.
“Oh? Percy, were you here this whole time?”
He glared at her, “Cut the shit, Drew.”
Ah.
Straight to aggression.
Classic New Yorker.
Drew only smiled brighter, her voice soft and sweet as sugar as she said: “Language.”
Percy scoffed and stalked off down the dock. Drew watched him leave with immense satisfaction.
One of the Aphrodite girls snorted.
“You’re evil.”
Drew adjusted her sunglasses calmly.
“Sure am.”
And she wasn’t done. Not even close.
—
The second time happened outside the dining pavilion.
Percy had just sat down with Tyson when Drew swept past with several campers clustered around her.
“Oh no,” she said dramatically. “Apparently Connor spent all morning in the gardens with Katie.”
Percy nearly choked on his drink.
Tyson blinked at him.
“You okay?”
“Fine,” Percy muttered.
Drew kept walking.
“Poor Annabeth though,” another girl added loudly. “I heard she’s hungover.”
“She and Connor drank six cups of spiked punch,” Drew replied. “It was pretty impressive for a girl that tiny.”
Percy’s fork snapped clean in half.
Tyson looked alarmed.
“Percy?”
“I’m fine.”
He did not sound fine.
Drew bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.
—
By lunchtime, Percy looked one inconvenience away from homicide.
Which only encouraged her further.
Drew found herself circling him almost subconsciously throughout the day.
A passing mention here.
A loud conversation there.
Connor’s name dropped every fifteen minutes like psychological torture.
And every single time—without fail—Percy reacted.
It fascinated her.
Because Percy Jackson was usually annoyingly difficult to rile up unless someone threatened people he cared about.
But this?
This was effortless.
His mood visibly worsened every time Connor entered the conversation.
Especially when Annabeth entered it too.
Drew finally caught him alone near the armory sometime that afternoon, and thanked every god that had gotten her up to this point.
Percy leaned against the outside wall staring out toward camp with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
Brooding.
Very dramatically.
Drew approached without hesitation.
“You know,” she said conversationally, “for someone who supposedly doesn’t care, you sure do look miserable.”
Percy didn’t even turn around.
“Fuck off, Drew.”
“No thanks.”
He sighed heavily through his nose.
“I’m serious.”
“And I’m bored.”
Finally Percy looked at her. Blue eyes sharp beneath messy blonde curls. She could see why a girl like Annabeth could possibly under certain circumstances find him somewhat attractive.
But to Drew? Gods was the boy boring to look at.
If Annabeth asked, Drew could get her a boyfriend twice as attractive as Percy.
But alas, Annabeth Chase was very much stubborn, and for some reason had an unhealthy attachment to the curly headed fishface.
“What exactly is your problem?” Percy snapped her out of her trance.
Drew tilted her head.
“My problem?”
“Yeah.” Percy pushed away from the wall. “You’ve been following me around all fucking day acting weird.”
Drew gasped softly.
“Percy Jackson accusing me of weird behavior? How cruel.”
“Drew.”
“Oh relax.” She waved dismissively. “I’m just making conversation.”
“With everybody except me.”
“Because you’re unpleasant.”
Percy barked out a humorless laugh.
“Fucking christ.”
There it was again.
That aggressively casual New York attitude.
Drew thought distantly that he sounded exactly like every stereotype Chiron had ever warned them about.
Percy rubbed both hands over his face tiredly.
Then looked at her flatly.
“What do you want?”
Drew smiled slowly.
“The better question,” she said, “is what do you want?”
Percy frowned immediately.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Oh come on.” Drew crossed her arms. “You practically looked ready to murder Connor Stoll last night.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
Percy scoffed loudly.
“You’re insane.”
“Mhm.”
Drew stepped closer.
“You know what I think?” she continued smoothly. “I think you spent so long assuming Annabeth would always wait around for you that the second another guy showed interest, you panicked.”
Percy’s jaw tightened instantly.
“Annabeth isn’t interested in Connor.”
Drew raised an eyebrow.
“Oh? That’s your defense?”
Percy opened his mouth. Closed it. Then scowled harder.
Drew nearly laughed.
“You know,” she mused, “Annabeth looked really pretty last night.” She partially spat it in his face. Finally losing some of her composure.
Percy’s expression shifted almost involuntarily.
Drew caught it immediately.
“She spent hours getting ready,” Drew continued cruelly. “You should’ve seen her before the party. She was nervous.”
Percy looked away sharply.
Drew’s satisfaction deepened.
“She kept hoping you’d ask her to dance.”
Silence.
“Or even notice her,” Drew added softly.
Percy’s head snapped back toward her.
“Okay,” he said sharply. “What the fuck are you getting at?”
“Well don’t you seem bothered.”
Percy stared at her.
“You’ve spent all day trying to piss me off.”
“Well obviously.”
“Why?”
Drew looked at him for a long moment.
Then said simply:
“Because she cried. And I prefer her dry eyed and smiling. It’s less embarassing.”
That stopped him cold. Percy blinked.
Drew’s voice lost some of its mockery then.
“Annabeth sat in the woods drinking herself sick because she saw that you chose whatever-her-name-is over her.”
Percy looked genuinely blindsided.
“What?”
Drew almost rolled her eyes.
“Oh my gods, are men naturally stupid or is it a learned skill?”
“I didn’t choose—”
“You danced with red head all night.”
“She asked me to dance!”
“And Annabeth watched all night.”
Percy opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Drew stepped closer.
“She waited for you,” Drew said bluntly. “The entire evening.”
Percy looked almost sick now.
Good.
“She thought the war ending meant maybe things would finally be different between you two.” Drew’s voice sharpened. “Instead she got to watch you flirt with another girl.”
“I wasn’t flirting—”
Drew laughed outright.
“Oh, please.”
Percy dragged a hand through his curls aggressively.
“I didn’t know she—”
“Loved you?” Drew snapped. “Percy, she’s loved you since she was twelve years old, are you a fucking idiot?”
Silence hit hard after that.
Percy stared at her like the words physically hurt him.
Drew crossed her arms tighter.
“And now she’s done.”
She wished she had a photo of the way his face contorted from her words.
“What?”
“She’s tired,” Drew said simply. “Tired of fighting for somebody who won’t fight for her back.”
Percy looked furious suddenly.
“With who? Rachel?”
Drew blinked slowly.
Then smiled.
“You know,” she said carefully, “the fact your first assumption wasn’t Connor is very telling.”
Percy’s face darkened instantly.
“Connor and Annabeth aren’t—”
“Aren’t what?”
Percy stopped himself.
Drew waited.
Percy looked ready to punch something.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he muttered under his breath.
Drew almost laughed again.
Percy Jackson—hero of Olympus, defeater of Titans, savior of Manhattan—looked one mention of Connor Stoll away from committing homicide.
Drew leaned in slightly.
“You should’ve seen your face last night,” Drew said sweetly. “When Connor turned his head.”
Percy glared immediately.
“That wasn’t a hickey, I’m not an idiot.”
Drew’s smile widened slowly.
The poor idiot really wanted to believe that.
“Oh?” she hummed lightly. “And what exactly makes you so sure?”
Percy crossed his arms harder.
“Because Connor wouldn’t—”
He stopped himself abruptly.
“Wouldn’t what?” she pressed.
Percy scowled.
“Nothing.”
“No, no, continue.” Drew tilted her head innocently. “I’m fascinated.”
Percy rubbed aggressively at the back of his neck.
“You’re messing with me.”
Drew gasped softly.
“Percy Jackson accusing me of manipulation? I’m wounded.”
“You should be.”
Drew smiled brighter.
Percy stared at her another second before shaking his head sharply.
“No.” He looked almost like he was trying to convince himself. “Annabeth and Connor aren’t together.”
Drew blinked slowly.
“Well,” she said carefully, “they certainly spent enough time alone together to become together.”
Percy’s jaw tightened instantly.
Drew watched the reaction with delight.
Gods, he was easy.
“You know,” she continued conversationally, “Connor was following her around basically all night after they came back from the woods.”
“They disappeared together,” Percy muttered darkly.
“Yes they did.”
Percy looked furious now.
Not normal annoyed Percy either.
This was sharp. Possessive. The kind of anger that curled hot beneath skin.
Drew almost wanted popcorn.
“He likes Katie,” Percy snapped suddenly.
Drew paused.
The fuck?
How the hell did he know that and she of all people didn’t? Were him and Connor Stoll suddenly close personal friends? How the hell can she convince him now?
She sighed.
And recovered as quickly as she could.
“And?”
Percy blinked.
“What?”
“Oh, Percy.” Drew sighed dramatically. “You think feelings stop Hermes boys from making bad decisions?”
Percy’s glare sharpened.
“You’re full of shit.”
“Maybe.”
Drew stepped closer anyway.
“But Annabeth still spent all morning looking miserable, so clearly something happened.”
Percy’s expression flickered.
Concern.
Guilt.
Jealousy.
Honestly, Percy Jackson was emotionally exhausting to look at.
“She deserves better than somebody who only notices her once another guy does,” Drew added cruelly.
Percy recoiled slightly like she’d physically slapped him.
Good.
Drew had intended it that way.
“She deserves somebody who actually chooses her,” she continued coldly. “Not somebody who dances with some other chick all night then suddenly gets territorial.”
“I’m not territorial,” Percy snapped.
Drew snorted.
“We aren’t going through this again.”
Percy’s silence said enough.
For a second neither of them spoke.
Camp moved around them in the distance—laughter, footsteps, the sound of swords clashing somewhere farther down the hill.
Then Percy muttered quietly:
“She really thinks I chose Rachel?”
Drew crossed her arms.
“You practically announced it publicly.”
“That’s not what happened.”
“Then what did happen?”
The idiot had nothing to say.
Drew nearly rolled her eyes.
Catastrophically stupid.
Honestly.
“You know what your problem is?” she asked.
Percy looked exhausted already.
“What.”
“You assume people can read your mind. You never say anything,” Drew snapped. “You just stand there making faces and expect everybody else to decipher what the hell you mean.”
Percy scowled harder.
“You’re really annoying.”
“And you’re fucking irritating.”
Percy groaned loudly and dragged both hands through his curls.
Then he muttered something deeply concerning under his breath that sounded suspiciously like:
“I’m gonna kill Connor.”
Drew bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to stop herself from laughing.
Oh this was excellent.
“Aw,” she cooed mockingly. “Jealous?”
Percy glared murderously.
“Shut up.”
“Very.”
“Drew.”
“Violently.”
“Drew.”
She smiled sweetly.
“You should’ve asked Annabeth to dance. Then maybe you’d be next to her instead of Stoll.”
Percy looked genuinely miserable at that.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Then, suddenly, Percy shoved away from the wall.
“I’m done with this conversation.”
Drew waved lazily.
“Run along then.”
Percy pointed at her as he backed away.
“You are seriously the worst.”
“Go fish, water boy.”
Percy made a frustrated noise somewhere between a groan and a curse before turning and stalking off across camp.
Drew watched him leave with immense satisfaction.
—
The bonfire that evening was somehow even more crowded than the night before.
Campers lounged across logs and blankets beneath the darkening sky while Apollo cabin sang loudly near the flames. The smell of smoke and sugar drifted through the warm evening air, mixed with the ocean breeze curling in from the shore.
Drew arrived fashionably late.
Obviously.
Showing up on time was for people without standards.
She descended the hill slowly, immediately scanning the crowd out of habit.
Apollo kids near the fire.
Hermes cabin causing chaos by the marshmallow station.
Several Ares campers arguing loudly over some game.
Rachel laughing beside Tyson near the edge of the circle.
And Percy Jackson—
There.
Near the bonfire.
Sitting beside Tyson and Grover. Poking aggressively at the dirt with a stick like it had personally offended him.
Drew smiled instantly.
Huh, he was still upset.
Wonderful.
Then her gaze shifted across the fire.
Annabeth sat alone several yards away from everyone else, cross-legged on a fallen log with her notebook balanced on one knee.
Completely absorbed.
Her long braids spilled over her shoulders messily while she scribbled furiously across the page, occasionally crossing things out with visible irritation.
Architectural designs probably.
Or battle strategies.
Or some insane Athena-child problem she invented for fun.
Notably, the sunglasses were gone. So the hangover had finally released her from torment.
Good for her.
Connor was nowhere to be seen.
Drew frowned slightly.
Shame.
She could’ve done so much more psychological damage with Connor physically present.
Still.
Work with what you have.
Drew made her way around the bonfire and dropped gracefully onto the log beside Annabeth.
“Hey.”
Annabeth didn’t look up.
“Hi.”
Drew smirked slightly.
Most people would’ve thought Annabeth was being rude.
Drew knew better.
Annabeth only got like this when fully consumed by whatever problem she’d trapped herself inside mentally.
Sure enough, the girl continued scribbling furiously without even realizing Drew had arrived.
Drew glanced across the fire.
And there it was.
Percy’s head had lifted immediately at the sound of Annabeth’s voice.
Like a dog hearing a treat bag open.
Casually, Drew leaned back slightly.
“So,” she said lightly. “Where’s Connor?”
Annabeth shrugged without looking up.
“How would I know?”
The answer came sharper than intended.
Drew recognized immediately that Annabeth was simply distracted.
Too focused on her work to monitor her tone.
But to anybody listening—
Oh.
It sounded bitter.
Like she was annoyed.
Like she was upset with Connor.
Perfect.
Drew glanced across the bonfire again.
Percy was absolutely listening now.
Excellent.
“Really?” Drew asked casually. “Thought you two were attached at the hip after last night.”
That finally got Annabeth to look up briefly.
Brown eyes narrowed in confusion.
“What are you talking about?”
Drew only smiled mysteriously.
Then stood.
“I’ll be back.”
Annabeth blinked once before immediately returning to her notebook.
Completely oblivious.
Drew crossed around the fire slowly until she reached the side where Grover, Tyson, Rachel, and Percy sat together.
Grover smiled politely when she approached.
Percy looked immediately suspicious.
Wonderful.
Drew leaned slightly toward Grover.
“You may wanna check on your friend Annabeth.”
Percy spoke before Grover could.
“What’s wrong with her?”
Drew turned slowly toward him.
Then sneered. Subtly. Or, as subtly as she could.
“Nothing yet,” she said smoothly.
Percy’s eyes narrowed instantly.
Drew ignored him and addressed Grover again.
“Connor’s MIA again,” she sighed dramatically. “Probably hanging around some other girl. You know how Hermes boys are.”
Percy straightened immediately.
Drew continued casually:
“Natural born whores, honestly.”
Rachel nearly choked on her drink.
Tyson blinked in confusion.
Grover looked alarmed.
“Anyway,” Drew continued, “Annabeth might need a good friend to console her right now.”
Percy’s expression darkened instantly.
“What the fuck is Connor’s problem?”
Drew had to physically stop herself from smiling too widely.
Hooked.
Again.
Like a fish.
She turned like she was about to leave.
Behind her Percy stood abruptly.
“Wait.”
Drew paused dramatically.
Then looked back.
Percy looked furious. And worried. Mostly furious.
“Is Annabeth okay?”
Drew shrugged vaguely. Her eyes drawing together like she was genuinely concerned.
“She’s pretending to be.”
Percy’s jaw clenched.
“What did he do?”
Drew blinked innocently.
“Who?”
“Connor.”
“Oh.” Drew tilted her head. “No idea. I’m just making assumptions based off what Annabeth told me.”
“Bullshit.”
Drew smiled sweetly.
“You are so hostile.”
“Drew.”
“What?”
“Where is he?”
The real question. One she and him would like to know.
Not because Percy cared where Connor was.bBecause Percy wanted to kill him.
Drew considered for exactly half a second.
Then lied effortlessly.
“I saw him heading toward the woods earlier.”
Percy didn’t even hesitate.
The second the words left her mouth, he stormed off around the bonfire with enough fury to start a second war.
Tyson blinked after him.
“Brother seems upset.”
Drew sat down calmly in Percy’s abandoned spot beside the fire.
Completely unbothered.
Honestly, she didn’t think much of it.
She was just helping fate along a little.
Really, Percy Jackson’s emotional spiral was hardly her fault.
—*—
PERCY JACKSON -
Percy Jackson had spent the entire day feeling like somebody had shoved a knife between his ribs and left it there.
And somehow—some-fucking-how—Drew fucking Tanaka had made it worse.
He stomped through the woods surrounding camp with enough force to snap twigs beneath his shoes, jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.
Connor Stoll.
Connor fucking Stoll.
Percy wanted to kill him.
Okay, maybe not kill kill him.
But definitely punch him.
A lot.
His blood still burned hot beneath his skin from that conversation at the bonfire.
‘Connor’s MIA again.’
‘Probably hanging around some other girl.’
‘Annabeth might need a friend to console her right now.’
Every sentence replayed in Percy’s head like torture.
Because if Connor Stoll hurt Annabeth—If that smug little asshole somehow got a chance with her only to make her cry—Percy was genuinely going to lose his shit.
The worst part?
The absolute worst fucking part?
Drew had been right earlier.
About all of it.
Percy scrubbed a hand down his face aggressively as he pushed deeper into the woods.
Gods.
He was such an idiot.
Annabeth had wanted him.
Wanted him.
The realization kept hitting him over and over all day like waves slamming into rock.
‘She waited for you.’
‘She thought the war ending meant maybe things would finally be different between you two.’
Percy felt physically sick every time he thought about it.
And the fucked up thing was he loved her too.
So much it terrified him.
Somewhere along the line—somewhere between quests and prophecies and almost dying every other week—Annabeth Chase had become necessary.
Not just important.
Necessary.
Percy needed to know where she was at all times. Needed her somewhere in his line of sight. Needed to hear her voice. Needed her close enough that if something happened, he could get to her immediately.
It had gotten bad after the war.
Really bad.
Because now there wasn’t some giant world-ending disaster distracting him from it.
Now there was just her.
Annabeth laughing with Malcolm at breakfast.
Annabeth training in the arena.
Annabeth sitting cross-legged beneath trees reading.
Annabeth tying her hair into her bonnet before bed.
Annabeth existing.
And Percy had started realizing he was completely, utterly fucked.
The feelings were too big now.
Too consuming.
He’d catch himself staring at her mouth during conversations.
Or memorizing the sound of her laugh.
Or wondering what it would feel like to hold her hand without the world ending around them.
Or wondering what it would feel like to feel parts of her nobody else had.
It scared the absolute hell out of him.
Percy Jackson knew obsession when he saw it.
Luke had obsessed over revenge.
Nico obsessed over grief.
Silena had obsessed over love.
And Percy…
Percy was pretty sure he was obsessed with Annabeth Chase.
Not in a creepy way. At least he hoped not.
But in a terrifying way.
A life-altering way.
Like if she left, something inside him would collapse with her.
So he’d been trying to force it down.
Trying to act normal.
Trying not to follow her around camp like a lost dog.
Trying not to make it obvious how badly he wanted her. Because the last thing Percy wanted was to scare her off.
Especially after everything between them had finally started healing again.
The distance after he disappeared with Ogygia had nearly destroyed them.
Then the prophecy.
The war.
Everything.
And finally—finally—they’d started finding each other again.
Tentatively.
Carefully.
Percy hadn’t wanted to ruin that.
So he’d kept his mouth shut.
And apparently while he was busy being a fucking coward, Annabeth had spent the entire night thinking he chose Rachel over her.
Rachel.
Percy groaned out loud and kicked a branch out of his way viciously.
The dance meant nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Rachel asked him to dance because she was excited the war was over and because Percy apparently “owed her” for ditching her on the beach to save Manhattan.
That was it.
A stupid friendship dance.
Completely platonic.
And somehow Percy managed to accidentally blow up his entire nonexistent relationship with Annabeth over it.
Fantastic.
Absolutely fantastic.
And now Connor Stoll—Connor fucking Stoll—got a chance Percy had wanted for years.
Percy’s stomach twisted violently at the memory of that dark mark on Connor’s neck.
Annabeth’s lips.
On Connor.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Percy wanted to throw up.
Or commit murder.
Possibly both.
He stormed farther through the trees, fury boiling hotter the deeper he went.
Annabeth deserved better than some Hermes asshole sneaking around behind her back.
And Percy had heard enough.
The second Drew implied Connor made Annabeth upset, Percy was already moving.
No hesitation.
No thinking.
Just rage.
Then—
Voices.
Percy slowed instantly.
Somewhere ahead through the trees.
One male.
One female.
Percy crept closer silently.
Then he recognized the male voice immediately.
Connor.
Oh, perfect.
Percy stepped quieter between the trees, catching pieces of the conversation.
“…sorry, Kat. I really am.”
Katie.
Right.
Percy crouched slightly behind a tree trunk.
Connor stood several yards ahead near a cluster of rocks while Katie Gardner faced him with crossed arms.
Connor looked wrecked.
Good.
“And I am stubborn,” Connor continued roughly. “And obnoxious, and immature, and I am not half as good as Travis.”
Katie’s face softened slightly.
“But I can try.”
Percy stepped forward then, too angry to care about subtlety anymore.
Leaves crunched loudly beneath his shoes.
Connor turned immediately.
“Percy?” he asked, confused. “What are you doing—”
Percy punched him across the face.
Hard.
Connor hit the ground instantly with a startled grunt.
Katie screamed.
Percy barely heard her.
“You fucking idiot!” Percy snapped.
Connor looked completely dazed.
“What the hell—”
Percy punched him again.
Connor’s head snapped sideways.
And once more for good measure.
Percy’s knuckles split painfully against Connor’s jaw.
Worth it.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Percy shouted. Connor blinked up at him in complete confusion.
Katie shoved herself between them instantly.
“What is WRONG with you?!” she yelled at Percy.
Percy pointed furiously at Connor.
“You made Annabeth cry!”
Connor stared.
“…What?”
Percy was breathing hard now, chest heaving with anger.
“You get a chance with her and then you disappear with some other girl?!”
Complete silence. Connor looked genuinely horrified. Then deeply confused. Then suddenly—
“Oh my gods,” he whispered.
Katie’s eyes widened.
Connor slowly looked toward Percy like he’d just solved a puzzle.
The asshole laughed.
Actually laughed.
Percy nearly swung again.
“You think me and Annabeth are together?” Connor choked out.
Percy grabbed his shirt immediately.
“Aren’t you?”
Connor stared at him.
Then started laughing harder.
“You punched me over ANNABETH?”
Percy released him roughly. Did this asshole think annabeth was a one and done kinda girl? That she wasn’t worth settling down with?
That he’d rather whore around, instead of being with Annabeth?
Even the thought of it astounded Percy.
“You had a fucking hickey! You think that’s nothing!”
Connor blinked. Then reached automatically toward his neck.
And suddenly his expression changed.
Slowly.
Into utter disbelief.
“That evil fucking woman.”
Katie looked between them both completely lost.
Percy’s stomach dropped slightly, “What?”
Connor stood slowly, wiping blood from his mouth.
“That wasn’t a hickey, dumbass.”
Percy froze.
Connor looked equal parts offended and hysterical.
“Oh my gods,” he muttered. “You actually thought—”
Percy’s face burned hot.
“What the fuck do you mean it wasn’t a hickey?”
Connor pointed aggressively at his neck.
“Drew smeared makeup on me! At the party you idiot!”
Percy’s entire brain stopped functioning.
“She WHAT?”
Katie started laughing suddenly. Actually laughing.
Connor glared at Percy.
“You assaulted me because you thought I hooked up with Annabeth?”
Percy opened his mouth.
Then immediately decided he was still too angry to deal with this conversation.
Connor rubbed his jaw with a wince.
“You are so unbelievably stupid.”
“Says the guy making girls cry in forests.”
Connor blinked.
“Oh.” He looked almost guilty. “No, that’s Katie stuff.”
Katie smacked his shoulder.
Percy stared at them.
Then suddenly felt like the biggest fucking idiot alive. Again.
Connor squinted at him.
“…You really like her, huh?”
Percy’s silence answered enough.
Connor stared. Then looked genuinely alarmed.
“Oh wow. Like bad.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Connor snorted despite the blood on his lip.
“You’re so screwed.”
Percy flipped him off immediately before turning and storming away.
Behind him Connor shouted:
“Tell Annabeth before I do!”
Percy ignored him.
Mostly because he was too busy internally screaming.
Drew fucking Tanaka.
That manipulative demon.
Percy stomped all the way back toward camp with bloody knuckles and approximately six emotional breakdowns happening simultaneously inside his chest.
Annabeth wasn’t with Connor.
Connor wasn’t with Annabeth.
The hickey wasn’t real.
And Percy had just punched somebody over fake-jealousy like an insane person.
By the time camp came back into view, Percy’s heart pounded so hard he thought he might actually die.
Now he had to talk to her.
Really talk to her.
No more hiding.
No more pretending.
No more standing there like an idiot while she thought he didn’t want her.
The bonfire still burned brightly when Percy emerged from the woods.
Almost immediately his eyes found her.
Of course they did.
Annabeth sat exactly where he left her earlier, notebook balanced on her knee while she scribbled furiously across the page.
Her sunglasses were gone now.
Her brown eyes narrowed in concentration beneath firelight while several braids slipped loose around her face.
Percy’s chest physically hurt looking at her.
Gods.
She was so fucking pretty.
He crossed the clearing immediately.
Annabeth looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps, clearly annoyed at being interrupted.
“What?”
Percy almost smiled despite everything.
Adorable.
Actually fucking adorable.
Then Annabeth’s gaze dropped to his hands.
And her expression changed instantly.
Her eyes widened.
“What the hell happened to your knuckles?”
Right.
Blood.
Percy glanced down briefly.
Both hands looked rough.
Bruised.
Split across the knuckles.
Oops.
Annabeth stood immediately, notebook forgotten beside her.
“Percy.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“What happened?”
“Annabeth.”
“No, absolutely not.” She grabbed his wrist carefully despite the blood. “You are not doing this mysterious brooding thing right now. Come on.”
Before Percy could argue, Annabeth was already dragging him away from the fire.
Toward the cabins.
Toward privacy.
Percy followed without resistance.
Honestly, he’d probably follow her anywhere.
—*—
The inside of Poseidon’s cabin was quiet.
The bonfire noise barely reached this far down camp, reduced to a distant blur of laughter and music somewhere outside.
Annabeth dragged Percy through the doorway without a word.
The second the cabin door shut behind them, she turned sharply toward him.
“Sit.”
Percy sat immediately.
Not because she sounded threatening.
Okay, maybe a little because she sounded threatening.
But mostly because Annabeth Chase had grabbed his wrist the second she saw blood on his hands, and Percy’s brain had stopped functioning properly after that.
She pushed him gently toward the edge of the small saltwater pool in the center of the cabin before kneeling beside him.
Percy watched her quietly.
Her braids had gotten slightly messy throughout the day. A few strands framed her face now, curling softly near her cheeks. Her brown eyes narrowed in concentration as she carefully guided his bruised hands into the water.
The second the saltwater touched his skin, relief spread through him.
The cuts along his knuckles began knitting themselves back together almost immediately.
Annabeth sighed softly.
“You’re unbelievable.”
Percy barely heard her.
He was too distracted.
Her thumbs rubbed slow circles against his knuckles beneath the water while she checked for lingering bruises.
Percy’s stomach flipped violently.
Gods.
He was so screwed.
“You could’ve broken something you know.”
Percy blinked.
“What?”
Annabeth looked up immediately.
A glare spread across her face.
“I asked how you busted up your knuckles like this.”
Oh.
Right.
That.
Percy looked down at their hands submerged in the water.
For a second he considered lying.
Some monster.
Training accident.
Anything.
But for some reason, he couldn’t find it in himself to lie to her.
And apparently lying about his feelings had only made everything catastrophically worse.
So maybe honesty was worth trying.
“…I punched Connor.”
Annabeth froze.
Slowly, she looked up at him in horror.
“You what?”
Percy rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck with his unoccupied hand.
“…Multiple times.”
“Percy! Why would you punch Connor?!” Annabeth demanded. “Is he okay?”
Something ugly twisted in Percy’s chest at how quickly she asked about Connor.
Not fair.
Not justified.
Especially after Connor explained everything.
But Percy still hated hearing concern in her voice for him.
Percy forced the feeling down immediately.
Connor wasn’t the problem here.
Connor actually liked somebody else.
Connor had apparently spent the evening confessing his feelings to Katie while Percy lost his goddamn mind over fake hickeys.
So really, Percy had nobody to blame except himself.
“Katie seemed to have him covered,” Percy muttered.
Annabeth blinked, then suddenly straightened.
“He was talking to Katie?”
Percy frowned slightly at the excitement in her voice.
“…Yeah.”
Annabeth’s entire face lit up. Actually lit up.
“Oh my gods.”
Percy stared at her.
She smiled to herself softly before looking back down at his hands.
“What were they talking about?”
Percy tried very hard not to sound annoyed.
And failed a little.
“Connor was saying sorry and shit,” he muttered. “Katie seemed happy enough with it.”
Annabeth’s smile widened.
“Good for him,” she said softly. “He deserved that.”
Percy thought privately that Connor deserved absolutely nothing.
Not after existing near Annabeth’s neck.
But Percy shoved the thought down aggressively.
None of this was Connor’s fault.
Connor hadn’t even known Drew turned him into a weapon of psychological warfare.
Still.
Percy could not stop thinking about it.
That stupid dark mark.
Annabeth’s lips against Connor’s skin.
The image replayed in his head like torture. Even now, knowing it wasn’t real, Percy still wanted to bite something.
Notably, Annabeth Chase.
The girl herself finally blinked back into focus, while Percy reigned in his thoughts about her.
“Wait.”
Uh oh.
“Why did you punch him though?”
Percy squirmed immediately.
Annabeth narrowed her eyes.
“Percy.”
“Well…” Percy winced slightly. “Drew kinda made it sound like you and Connor had something going on.”
Annabeth stared at him blankly.
“What?”
“She told me you guys disappeared together during the party.”
“We did disappear together.”
“Yeah, but then she implied you two got…” Percy gestured vaguely. “Busy.”
She still looked confused. Damn this camp. Did they teach these kids any fucking innuendos?
“Fucked. Annabeth, she made it sound like you and Connor hooked up.”
She got it now.
Annabeth looked genuinely horrified.
“What?!”
“She also made this hickey thing seem real.”
“Hickey?! I never gave Connor a hickey!”
“I know that now!”
Annabeth gaped at him.
“Percy Jackson!”
“In my defense Drew is evil! She smeared eyeshadow on Connor’s neck to even give physical proof!”
“Oh my gods.”
Annabeth dropped her face briefly into one hand like she physically could not process this level of stupidity.
Percy sat there awkwardly while she silently reconsidered every decision that led her here.
Finally she looked back up.
“Percy,” she said slowly, “Connor and I did not hook up in the woods.”
Percy nodded quickly.
“Right. Yeah. Got that now.”
“We got drunk and complained about our love lives.”
Percy blinked.
“…Love lives?”
Annabeth froze slightly.
Then immediately looked back down at his hands.
‘Oops.’
Percy’s heartbeat sped up instantly.
Annabeth kept rubbing slow circles over his knuckles like she hadn’t said anything weird.
Percy swallowed hard.
“So…” he said carefully. “That’s all that happened?”
“Yes.”
“And Connor likes Katie?”
“Yes.”
“And Drew made all the rest up?”
“Yes.”
Percy groaned and dropped his head back dramatically.
“I’m actually the dumbest person alive.”
Annabeth snorted softly despite herself.
“A little bit.”
Percy pointed accusingly at her.
“You are shockingly calm about the fact I beat the fuck out of somebody over fake gossip.”
Annabeth finally smiled fully.
Gods.
Percy’s chest hurt looking at it.
“You punched Connor because you thought he hurt me?”
Percy hesitated. Then nodded once.
Annabeth’s expression softened immediately.
Dangerously.
Percy looked away first.
If she kept looking at him like that he was genuinely going to lose his mind.
And his self control.
“You scared me,” she admitted quietly.
Percy looked back immediately.
“What?”
“When you walked up bleeding.” Annabeth frowned slightly. “I thought something happened to you.”
Percy’s heart did something deeply concerning inside his chest. It felt a little like an arrow.
“Oh.”
Annabeth looked down again quickly.
Silence settled between them for a second.
Percy could hear the water shifting gently around their hands.
Then Annabeth spoke again.
“You really thought Connor and I…” She trailed off, horrified again.
Percy groaned loudly.
“In my defense the hickey looked real.”
Annabeth laughed suddenly. Bright and startled and beautiful.
Percy stared at her helplessly.
Gods.
He loved her.
There it was.
Annabeth noticed him staring after a second.
Her laughter faded slightly.
“What?”
Percy’s mouth went dry.
Suddenly he was so tired.
Tired of pretending.
Tired of hiding it.
Tired of watching her think he didn’t want her.
Percy looked down at their hands submerged together in the water.
Then quietly said:
“I thought I lost my chance with you.”
Annabeth froze instantly.
Percy kept going before he could stop himself.
“After Mount St. Helens.” His voice came rougher now. “When you kissed me.”
Annabeth stared at him silently.
Percy laughed once under his breath.
Humorless.
“You gave me literally everything I’d wanted and all I could think about was how badly I was gonna screw it up.”
“Percy—”
“No, let me finish.” He looked up at her finally. “Please.”
Annabeth went quiet immediately.
Percy swallowed hard.
“I didn’t know what to do after that,” he admitted. “And then everything kept happening so fast. The prophecy, the war, Luke, Manhattan…” He shook his head slightly. “I kept thinking I’d tell you later.”
Annabeth’s eyes softened painfully.
“But later kept almost getting us killed.”
Percy laughed weakly.
“Yeah.”
Silence.
Then quietly:
“I thought maybe you stopped wanting me after a while.”
Annabeth looked devastated.
“Percy.”
“You were angry at me.” He looked away. “And you had every right to be.”
“I was angry because I thought you didn’t care.”
“I cared too much.”
That slipped out accidentally.
Annabeth inhaled sharply.
Percy closed his eyes briefly.
Fuck it.
“I’ve been trying so hard not to scare you,” he admitted softly. “You have no idea.”
Annabeth looked confused.
“Scare me?”
Percy laughed weakly again.
“Annabeth, I can barely go five minutes without checking where you are.”
Her eyes widened slightly.
“I look for you constantly,” he continued quietly. “Every room. Every campfire. Every meal.” He rubbed nervously at his wrist. “I know where you are before I even think about it.”
Annabeth stared at him speechless.
Percy’s chest tightened.
“I tried to stop being obvious after the war,” he admitted. “Because things between us were finally getting better again and I thought if I pushed too hard you’d leave.”
“I would never leave.”
Percy looked at her sharply.
Annabeth’s eyes had gone glassy now.
“You idiot,” she whispered.
Percy almost smiled sadly.
“Yeah.”
“You absolute idiot.”
Then suddenly tears spilled down her cheeks.
Percy panicked immediately.
“Annabeth—”
“I waited for you for years,” she choked out softly.
Percy’s heart shattered.
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.” Her voice broke harder now. “Percy, I loved you so much it hurt.”
Percy reached for her immediately.
Annabeth grabbed his wrist before he could pull away.
“I thought…” She laughed shakily through tears. “Gods, I thought maybe if I stayed long enough eventually you’d look at me the way I looked at you.”
Percy moved closer without thinking.
“I always looked at you.”
Annabeth shook her head quickly.
“Not like this.”
“Yes like this.”
She stared at him.
Percy lifted one hand slowly and wiped beneath her eyes with careful fingers.
“I love you,” he said quietly.
Percy’s words hung between them.
Annabeth stared at him like he’d cracked her open and rebuilt her from the inside out.
His hand still cupped her cheek, thumb brushing beneath her eye, catching tears before they could fall properly. Her skin felt warm beneath his palm. Soft.
Suddenly Percy became violently aware of how close they were.
Close enough to feel her breath against his mouth.
Close enough that if he tilted forward even slightly—
Annabeth noticed it too.
He saw the exact second it hit her.
Her breathing changed. Just barely.
But Percy noticed everything about her.
Her brown eyes flicked downward.
To his lips.
Then back up again.
Percy’s heartbeat slammed against his ribs so hard it almost hurt.
Gods.
He wanted her so bad.
Not in the stupid shallow way people talked about wanting someone.
Not just physical.
He wanted all of her.
Every sharp edge. Every terrifying brilliant thought. Every stubborn argument and eye roll and exhausted sigh. He wanted her beside him for the rest of his life so badly it made him feel insane.
Percy leaned closer.
Annabeth didn’t move away.
Her breath caught softly instead.
Their noses brushed.
His thumb lingered against her cheek.
And right before his lips touched hers, Percy whispered:
“Yes or no?”
For a second Annabeth just stared at him. Her eyes moved between his and his mouth again.
Then she breathed out shakily:
“Yes.”
Then softer:
“Please.”
That was all Percy needed.
He kissed her immediately.
Hard.
Desperate.
Like he’d been starving for years and only just realized she was the thing keeping him alive.
Annabeth made a startled sound against his mouth before kissing him back just as fiercely.
And gods—
Gods—
Percy thought he might actually lose his mind.
Her hands flew upward instantly, grabbing fistfuls of his camp shirt, pulling him closer like she physically couldn’t stand the distance between them.
Percy leaned into her without thinking.
The force of it pushed Annabeth slightly backward against the edge of the pool.
Neither of them cared.
They kissed like they had years of things to say and no language except this.
All teeth and breath and emotion.
Percy’s hands slid instinctively from her cheeks to her waist, gripping tightly.
Annabeth shivered beneath his touch, and made what sounded like a breathy whimper against his lips.
That nearly killed him.
“Fuck,” Percy breathed against her mouth.
Annabeth laughed softly into the kiss.
Percy kissed her again immediately.
Slower this time.
Deeper.
Trying to pour every single thing he’d never managed to say into it.
I wanted you.
I was scared.
I’m sorry.
I love you.
Annabeth kissed him like she understood all of it anyway. Like she always had.
Her fingers slid into his curls, tugging gently, and Percy nearly groaned.
“Annabeth,” he whispered against her lips.
She answered by kissing him harder.
Percy’s brain fully short-circuited.
Years.
Years of wanting this.
Of standing too close to her and pretending not to notice. Of looking at her mouth during arguments. Of wondering. Of hoping.
And now she was here.
Actually here.
Kissing him back like she wanted him just as badly.
Percy’s hands tightened at her waist unconsciously.
Annabeth inhaled sharply.
That sound went straight through him.
He kissed down the corner of her mouth instinctively, breath uneven now, pulse roaring in his ears.
Annabeth tilted her head back slightly to give him space and Percy—
Percy remembered Connor.
The fake hickey.
The thought of someone else touching her there.
Something possessive and reckless sparked hot inside his chest.
Before he could think too hard about it, Percy’s mouth moved from her lips to the side of her neck.
Annabeth gasped.
Percy felt the sound against his skin and nearly lost whatever sanity he had left.
“Oh my gods,” she whispered breathlessly.
“Sorry,” Percy muttered immediately against her skin. “I just— fuck, Annabeth—”
Her hands tightened in his curls.
“Don’t apologize.”
Percy kissed her neck again, slower this time, savoring the warmth of her skin beneath his mouth.
Annabeth’s breathing had gone uneven now.
One of her hands slid from his hair down to his shoulder, gripping tightly.
Percy could feel her heartbeat.
Fast.
As fast as his.
The realization hit him hard enough to make his chest ache.
She wanted him. Actually wanted him.
Not hypothetically.
Not someday.
Now.
Percy lifted his head slightly just to look at her.
Annabeth’s braids had fallen messily around her shoulders now. Her lips looked swollen from kissing him. Her eyes were glassy and warm and completely fixed on him.
Percy thought she looked breathtaking.
“You’re so fucking pretty,” he said before he could stop himself.
Annabeth blinked in surprise. Then laughed softly, embarrassed.
“Percy—”
“No, seriously.” His hands slid upward carefully along her sides. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
Annabeth looked at him like that sentence physically affected her.
Good.
Because she absolutely destroyed him.
She pulled him back down by the front of his shirt and kissed him again before he could say anything else stupid.
Percy kissed her back immediately.
Slower now.
Annabeth shifted closer between kisses until there was barely space left between their bodies at all.
Percy’s head spun.
Every touch felt magnified.
Her fingers brushing his jaw.
His thumb tracing her waist absentmindedly.
The way she melted closer every time he kissed her deeper.
“Can’t believe you punched Connor,” she murmured breathlessly against his mouth at one point.
Percy groaned dramatically.
“Do not say his fucking name right now.”
Annabeth laughed softly against his lips.
The sound went straight through him.
Percy kissed her again immediately, one hand sliding firmly against the small of her back to pull her closer. Annabeth made a startled little noise before her arms looped around his neck completely.
Years of tension and almosts and unfinished conversations poured out of both of them at once.
Percy kissed her like he’d been waiting half his life to do it.
Because he had.
Annabeth tilted into him easily now, fully relaxed against him in a way Percy had never felt before. Like something inside her had finally unclenched.
It made his chest ache.
He kissed the corner of her mouth slowly before dragging his lips along her jaw again, unable to stop touching her.
Annabeth’s breathing caught.
“Percy,” she whispered.
The way she said his name nearly destroyed him.
His hands moved instinctively along her waist, careful but restless, like he couldn’t decide where he wanted to hold her most.
Everywhere, apparently.
Annabeth’s fingers slid into his curls again, nails lightly scratching against his scalp.
“Fuck,” Percy muttered against her skin.
Annabeth laughed breathlessly.
“You swear so much.”
“I’m from New York, baby. It’s basically cultural.”
Baby.
The word slipped out without thinking.
Annabeth went still for half a second. Then her cheeks flushed warm beneath the cabin light.
Percy stared at her helplessly.
“Oh my gods,” he said quietly. “That worked on you?”
“Shut up.”
“You liked that.”
“I hate you.”
Percy grinned.
“No you don’t.”
Annabeth answered by pulling him back down into another kiss.
Percy kissed her harder immediately, smiling against her mouth.
Annabeth shifted slightly in his lap and Percy’s entire brain nearly short-circuited.
His hands tightened instinctively at her waist.
Annabeth inhaled sharply.
Both of them froze for half a second.
Then slowly looked at each other.
Percy’s heart hammered violently against his ribs.
Annabeth looked equally wrecked.
He thought he might actually combust.
“Hi,” she said weakly, he smiled back at her. “Hi, Beth.”
She shook her head fondly before leaning forward and kissing him again herself this time.
Percy melted instantly.
Whatever dignity he used to have?
Gone.
Annabeth’s hands slid down from his shoulders slowly, fingers bunching in the fabric of his shirt.
Percy’s pulse jumped.
Every kiss kept getting deeper.
Longer.
More dangerous.
Like neither of them really wanted to stop and neither trusted themselves enough to be the one who pulled away first. Annabeth kissed him with years of buried feeling behind it.
His forehead rested briefly against hers between kisses, both of them breathing unevenly now.
“You know,” Annabeth whispered softly, “I used to think about this all the time.”
Percy blinked.
“…Seriously?”
Annabeth nodded once, embarrassed.
“Gods,” he muttered. “You can’t just say shit like that to me.”
Annabeth laughed again.
Then Percy kissed her before she could respond because honestly talking was becoming increasingly difficult.
His hand slid carefully up her back, fingers brushing lightly over her braids.
Annabeth shivered.
Everything about her reactions fascinated him.
The way her breath changed.
The way her fingers tightened in his shirt.
The way she leaned closer every time he touched her.
It made him feel half insane.
Percy kissed her slower for a moment, savoring it now instead of rushing.
Annabeth’s thumb brushed softly against his cheek.
The gentleness of it almost hurt.
She looked at him like she loved him.
Not hero worship.
Not childhood crushes.
Him.
Percy Jackson. The dumbass who punched Connor Stoll over eyeshadow.
Annabeth smiled faintly against his mouth like she knew exactly what he was thinking.
“You’re thinking too loud again.”
“I always think loud.”
“Mhmm.”
Percy kissed her once more.
Then again.
And again because apparently he had no self-control anymore.
Somewhere outside, distant laughter echoed from the bonfire.
Neither of them cared.
Annabeth shifted closer again and Percy’s hand slipped instinctively against her hips, inching up her shirt just a smidge.
Eventually, he just pulled her on to his lap. Aching for her to be as close as possible, she made no attempt to shift away, so he took that as an ‘okay’ to keep holding her close to him.
He gripped on to her hips like a lifeline, rocking her gently against his lap instinctively, and nearly smiling when he heard a small whimper escape her.
He rocked her again. Then again. Wanting to hear more and more sounds for her, wanting her to be louder, wanting—
Knock knock knock.
Both of them froze.
Percy blinked slowly.
Annabeth frowned.
Knock knock knock.
Louder this time.
Percy groaned dramatically and dropped his forehead onto Annabeth’s shoulder.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
Annabeth snorted softly.
The knocking came again.
More insistent now.
Percy looked genuinely offended by the interruption. Whoever stood outside his cabin door was actively ruining his life.
“Ignore it,” he muttered, nuzzling his nose in to her neck and breathing her in.
Annabeth laughed quietly.
“They’re not going away.”
Knock knock knock knock.
Percy closed his eyes briefly like he was physically restraining himself from violence.
Then he pointed firmly at her.
“Do not move.”
Annabeth raised an eyebrow.
“Yes captain, my captain.”
Percy narrowed his eyes.
“You’re making fun of me.”
“A little.”
“I’ll get you back for that.”
Another knock rattled the door.
Percy groaned again before reluctantly shifting her off his lap and getting up. Trying to be as subtle as possible as he adjusted his pants.
Thank god all he wore were baggy jeans. He thought back to every time his mom had told him he looked like a ‘hobo’ in them, and made a mental reminder to tell her that she was very, VERY wrong.
Maybe he wouldn’t tell her the reason she was wrong, but still.
Annabeth watched him with obvious amusement while he stalked toward the entrance like he was marching to war.
He yanked the cabin door open aggressively.
“What?”
And immediately regretted everything.
Connor fucking Stoll stood outside.
With a rapidly darkening black eye.
Right.
Oops.
Percy would probably have to apologize for that eventually. Not now though.
Because currently Connor looked ridiculously cheerful for somebody who got punched in the face three times.
Actually, “cheerful” undersold it.
The asshole looked elated.
“Percy!” Connor said brightly.
Percy stared at him flatly.
“No.”
Connor blinked.
“I didn’t even ask anything yet.”
“Still no.”
Connor leaned slightly, trying to peek past him into the cabin.
“Do you know where Annabeth is?”
Percy immediately stepped sideways to block the view.
“Nope.”
Then he started closing the door.
Connor shoved a hand against it immediately.
“Whoa, whoa—”
Percy glared murderously.
Connor looked entirely unbothered.
“Are you sure?” Connor asked. “Because this is really, REALLY important.”
Percy rolled his eyes hard enough to hurt.
“Listen, I don’t know where she is and I’m kinda busy right now, so can you just—”
Connor narrowed his eyes knowingly.
“Who are you busy with?”
Percy didn’t even hesitate.
“I’m busy with myself.”
Connor scrunched up his nose immediately.
“Ew.”
Percy shrugged.
Connor looked increasingly unimpressed.
“Percy,” he sighed, “I know she’s in there, and you did kinda punch me in the face multiple times.” He pointed at his bruising eye. “You kinda owe me.”
Percy considered launching him directly into the ocean.
Just a small water blast.
Nothing lethal.
Probably.
Before he could decide, a hand landed gently on his shoulder.
Percy looked back instantly.
Annabeth stepped up beside him, still slightly flushed, braids messy, lips swollen from kissing him.
Connor noticed immediately.
His eyes widened.
Then widened more.
“Oh my gods,” he whispered dramatically.
Percy glared.
Annabeth ignored Connor entirely and looked at Percy instead.
“You’re being rude.”
“I could not possibly give less of a shit right now.”
Annabeth fought a smile.
“Percy.”
“I’m serious.”
Connor made a deeply offended noise behind them.
“Hello? Black eye? Emotional trauma?”
Percy pointed at him.
“You are the emotional trauma.”
Annabeth laughed outright this time.
Percy’s irritation immediately weakened hearing it.
Dangerous.
Very dangerous.
Annabeth leaned slightly toward him, lowering her voice.
“Be nice.”
Percy leaned closer too.
“I will give you anything you want if you ask me to close this door.”
Annabeth’s cheeks flushed again.
“You can’t bribe me.”
“I absolutely can.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Beth.”
Annabeth rolled her eyes affectionately, then turned toward Connor.
“What do you need to talk about?”
Connor looked between them once.
Twice.
Then directly at Percy.
“Can I come in?”
Percy immediately looked annoyed again.
“No.”
Annabeth lightly punched his shoulder.
“Percy.”
He looked at her.
She looked back patiently.
Percy sighed, then reluctantly stepped aside.
Connor grinned victoriously and walked into the cabin.
Percy shut the door behind him with significantly more force than necessary.
—*—
Connor immediately made himself comfortable.
Which, in Percy’s opinion, was insane behavior for somebody who had been punched in the face by the homeowner less than an hour ago.
He dropped down onto one of the cabin benches with the ease of someone settling in for story time while Percy stood near the door thinking very seriously about homicide.
Annabeth, meanwhile, looked entirely invested already.
“What happened?” she asked immediately, turning fully toward Connor.
Percy watched her braid slide over her shoulder with the movement and had to physically stop himself from pulling her back against him.
Connor pointed dramatically at her.
“See? This is why you’re my favorite. Just a natural shit-talker.”
Percy narrowed his eyes.
Absolutely the fuck not.
Annabeth ignored Connor’s dramatics completely.
“Well?”
Connor grinned.
Then—somehow—blushed.
Percy nearly gagged.
“She forgave me,” Connor admitted.
Annabeth’s entire face softened instantly.
“Oh.”
That one tiny word somehow carried genuine relief.
Connor rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck.
“Yeah.”
Percy crossed his arms tightly and leaned back against the cabin wall.
Annabeth scooted closer to Connor’s side of the room unconsciously, fully absorbed now.
Traitor.
“What exactly did you say?” she asked.
Connor laughed weakly.
“Honestly? I kinda blacked out halfway through.”
Annabeth snorted softly.
“Connor.”
“I’m serious!” He dragged both hands down his face dramatically. “I just— I don’t know. I told her everything.”
Percy watched Annabeth carefully while Connor spoke.
The way she listened.
Focused completely.
Like every feeling somebody handed her mattered.
It hit Percy suddenly that this was one of the reasons people loved her so much.
Annabeth made people feel heard.
Seen.
Important.
Even when she was exhausted or hurting herself.
Connor exhaled slowly.
“I told her I was sorry,” he admitted more quietly now. “Not just for last night. For all of it.” He looked down at his hands. “For running from it. For pretending Travis mattered more just because it was easier.”
Annabeth nodded once slowly.
“And?”
Connor smiled helplessly.
“And she said she understood.”
Annabeth’s expression softened even more.
Percy tried not to look annoyed.
He failed a little.
Connor continued talking.
“She said she knew I was scared,” he admitted. “And she said she probably should’ve told me sooner that she…” He grinned stupidly. “Y’know.”
Annabeth’s eyes widened slightly.
“She said it back?”
Connor pointed at her dramatically again.
“Yes, Athena. Keep up.”
Annabeth shoved his shoulder immediately.
Connor laughed.
Percy watched them bicker and felt irritation crawl steadily higher up his spine.
Not logical irritation.
Not even fair irritation.
He wanted Annabeth back in his lap.
Now.
Immediately.
Preferably with Connor launched directly into the Atlantic Ocean.
Connor kept talking obliviously.
“She’s gonna talk to Travis today.”
Annabeth nodded thoughtfully.
“That’s good.”
Connor’s smile faltered slightly.
“She thinks he already kinda knows.”
Percy snorted quietly from across the room.
Connor pointed at him.
“Even fish face thinks so.”
“I think you’re loud as hell,” Percy corrected.
Connor ignored him expertly.
Annabeth tilted her head slightly, “You should probably talk to Travis too.”
Connor groaned immediately.
“Must you ruin my happiness so quickly?”
“Yes.”
Connor sighed dramatically toward the ceiling.
“You really are Athena’s kid.”
“She’s right though,” Percy muttered reluctantly.
Both of them looked at him in surprise.
Percy shrugged awkwardly.
“If Travis hears it from somebody else first he’ll probably get pissed.”
Connor made a face.
“Yeah, I know.” He rubbed nervously at his knee now. “I’m gonna do it. I just…” He exhaled slowly. “Need like five minutes to become emotionally prepared.”
Annabeth smiled softly.
“You’ll be okay.”
Connor looked at her gratefully.
Percy really tried. He tried so hard not to glare at him.
But apparently he had the emotional maturity of a damp sock because every time Connor made Annabeth smile Percy wanted him gone immediately.
Connor kept talking after that.
Rambling more now that the nerves had worn off.
Annabeth stayed completely engaged, asking questions, giving advice, laughing softly at parts of the story.
Percy sat there slowly dying. Every instinct in him kept pulling toward her. Toward touching her. Toward kissing her again.
He could still taste her.
Still feel her hands in his hair.
And now Connor Stoll was sitting three feet away talking about feelings.
Cruel.
Cruel and unusual punishment.
Percy must’ve let more annoyance show on his face than intended because halfway through Connor explaining Katie crying, Annabeth glanced sideways at him.
Immediately she paused.
Percy schooled his expression too late
Annabeth’s lips twitched slightly.
Then without interrupting Connor at all, she shifted subtly closer to Percy’s side of the cabin.
Her hand slid quietly against the center of his back.
Gentle circles.
Small.
Calming.
Percy froze.
Connor kept talking obliviously.
But Percy suddenly couldn’t hear a word he was saying anymore.
Annabeth was touching him. Absentmindedly too. Like it was natural.
Percy’s irritation softened instantly beneath the slow movement of her hand.
And then—
The realization hit him.
This was what she felt like around Rachel.
Every time Percy accidentally ignored her.
Every time Rachel pulled Percy’s attention away without meaning to.
Every time Percy made Annabeth stand there wondering where she fit.
Guilt twisted sharply in his stomach.
Holy shit.
This sucked.
Not because Connor was doing anything wrong. Connor was actually being weirdly sweet. But Percy hated sharing Annabeth’s attention now that he finally had it.
And he’d accidentally made her feel that way for months.
Maybe longer.
Percy looked down quietly.
Annabeth still rubbed slow circles into his back while listening to Connor talk.
Percy swallowed hard.
Then consciously relaxed his expression.
Connor didn’t deserve death for existing near Annabeth.
Probably.
Eventually Connor’s story wound down.
“…And then she kissed me,” he finished weakly.
Annabeth grinned instantly.
“Oh my gods.”
Connor covered his face dramatically.
“I know.”
“You deserve this, Connor.”
Percy watched Connor freeze slightly at the sincerity in her voice.
Then smile softer than before.
“Thanks, Beth.”
The cabin went quiet for a second after that.
Connor eventually stood slowly.
“Well,” he sighed dramatically, “time to go face my brother and possibly die.”
Annabeth laughed softly and stood too.
“You’ll survive.”
“Debatable.”
Then Connor opened his arms dramatically.
Annabeth rolled her eyes, but hugged him anyway.
Percy immediately narrowed his eyes.
Connor’s face appeared directly over Annabeth’s shoulder in Percy’s line of sight.
The asshole had the nerve to grin.
Then stick his tongue out.
Percy glared so hard his eye twitched.
Connor looked delighted by this discovery.
Annabeth pulled away from the hug just as Percy contemplated another punch.
“Good luck,” she told Connor warmly.
Connor nodded once.
Then very wisely shot toward the cabin door at top speed.
The second the door slammed shut behind him, Percy moved.
Immediately.
He grabbed Annabeth gently around the waist and pulled her backward against him before she could even fully turn around.
Annabeth laughed softly in surprise.
“Percy.”
“You sure like giving hugs, don’t you?”
“You punched him, he needed it.”
“He lived.”
Annabeth snorted.
Percy buried his face briefly against her shoulder, arms tightening around her waist.
“You weren’t being very nice,” she pointed out gently.
Percy sighed against her skin.
“I know.”
Annabeth turned slightly in his arms to look at him.
Percy kissed her shoulder softly, “I’m sorry.”
The words meant more than just Connor and they both knew it.
Annabeth’s expression softened immediately.
Percy looked down for a second. “I get it now,” he admitted quietly. “The Rachel thing.”
Annabeth went still.
Percy exhaled slowly.
“This afternoon sucked,” he admitted. “And Connor wasn’t even doing anything wrong.” He shook his head slightly. “I kept wanting him gone anyway.”
Annabeth stared at him quietly.
“I’m sorry,” Percy repeated softer this time. “For making you feel like that.”
Something emotional flickered across Annabeth’s face. Then she reached up carefully and touched his cheek.
“You didn’t know.”
“Still.”
Annabeth smiled faintly.
“You’re learning.”
Percy groaned.
“That sounds terrifying coming from you.”
“It should.”
He laughed quietly.
Then kissed her.
Soft this time.
Slow.
Nothing desperate about it anymore.
Just warm.
Annabeth melted into him immediately.
Percy smiled against her mouth.
“Better?” she murmured.
“Way fucking better.”
Annabeth laughed into the kiss.
—*—