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Chapter Text

The one thing Annabeth Chase knows for sure about Percy Jackson? He never shuts up. Like, ever.

When she met him, he was fresh from his first-ever encounter with a monster. He’d also just lost his mother. That would be enough to sober anyone up for a few days. Percy, though, was weirdly quiet. Quieter than any other new camper, except when he was around Grover or Luke. She figured it was just in his nature to be cooped up in his little bubble, save for when he wanted to make a (completely unnecessarily) sarcastic remark.

But then they went on their quest together and she discovered that once he got comfortable enough, he could talk the hind legs off a centaur. And somehow, for better or for worse, she found herself on the list of people Percy truly feels comfortable around. That means- unfortunately- she has to endure listening to him talk about anything and everything every single day. Blue food; how he took down an Ares camper in Capture the Flag; his mom; believe it or not, the topics for one-sided conversation were endless. And since she spends so much time listening to him, she’s become accustomed to his voice- the pitch, the tone, the timbre.

Completely normal.

Which is why, as she’s passing by the lake from an Arts and Crafts lesson one day, she recognises Percy’s voice immediately.

Annabeth glances from around the tree and sees him standing at the lake bed, a shimmering curtain of mist in front of him. He’s talking to someone via Iris-message- a pretty woman, probably in her forties, with grey streaks in her dark brown hair but a sunny smile to make up for them. Annabeth immediately pins her as Percy’s mom. They don’t look all that alike, but they hold themselves in the same weary way; like the weight of the world is resting on their shoulders.

She probably shouldn’t be intruding on their conversation but before she knows it, she’s jogging up to them, the words, “Hey, Seaweed Brain!” slipping from her mouth in a rush. 

Oh, gods. Did she really just call him that in front of his mother, of all people? What if she gets mad at her?

Percy turns to her, surprise etched across his features. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting any visitors. “Hey, Annabeth. What are you doing here?”

Annabeth shrugs, as a way of hiding her sudden rush of uncertainty- and the growing desire to retreat. “Oh, I was just passing by and heard you talking to your mom. That is your mom, right?” she adds, as if she isn’t a hundred percent sure.

“Uh- yeah!” For some reason, Percy’s face is bright red. He scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. He turns back to the Iris message, from which Sally Jackson is staring at the two of them with wide, blue-gray eyes. “Mom, I want you to meet Annabeth.”

“Hi, Ms. Jackson,” Annabeth greets her, a little shyly. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Percy’s told me a lot about you.”

“And he’s told me a lot about you, too,” Sally replies, her voice warm. 

“Uh, Mom-” Percy begins, his voice shooting up an octave.

“You’re his favourite topic of conversation, you know?” The smile on her face grows wider. “He can never stop talking about you.”

“Oh?” Annabeth feels her cheeks flush with heat. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Percy determinedly looking at anywhere but the two of them. “Is that so?”

“Yes!” Sally confirms. “In fact, he was talking about you before you came along!”

“Mom, I really don’t think-”

“Nonsense, Percy.” The wave of her hand seems dismissive, oblivious, but Annabeth catches a familiar, mischievous glint in Sally Jackson’s eye. It’s the exact same look Percy gets when he’s up to something.

Uh-oh.

“You were just saying how pretty her hair looks, weren’t you? Her braids in particular.”

Percy groans, burying his face in his hands. Annabeth bites her lip nervously. This was not how she expected her introduction to Percy’s mom- the nicest mortal in the world, according to him, by the way- to go. 

“Oh, look at the time!” Sally glances at her (completely watchless) wrist and waves at them. “I’ve got to go. See you tomorrow, Percy?”

“Yeah,” Percy mutters, swiping his hand across the mist to cut the connection. “See you.”

An embarrassing silence settles between the two demigods. Percy scowls at the lake as if it personally offended him. Which, in a way, it did. Annabeth figures she’s supposed to say something, but after an encounter like that, well… what can she say, without coming off as interfering? Intrusive?

“So…” she tries, kicking gently at the sand beneath her with her foot. “Your mom seems… nice.”

Percy’s uncomfortable frown twists into a soft smile. Annabeth is struck by the way bringing up his mom makes him shift like the sea. He no longer looks as if he’s enduring the burden of a great prophecy. He instead resembles exactly what he’s supposed to be- a twelve year old boy. 

“Yeah, she’s the best,” Percy agrees.

Silence again. Annabeth observes him like he’s one of her battle strategies- from his tousled blond curls to the slope of his nose. Then-

“Did you really say that about me?” she asks, her voice so quiet she’s sure Percy has to strain to hear her. “I mean, about my hair?”

She immediately regrets asking the question. What in Hades is wrong with her? she wonders desperately. Gods, now he must think she’s lost her edge. What kind of strategist blurts out stupid questions like that?

“Yeah.” Percy’s voice breaks her inner spiral, bringing her back to reality with a jolt. “I did.”

Annabeth isn’t sure she heard him right. “Really?”

He stares at her with those stupid, ocean-blue eyes like she’s slow. She’s never been looked at that way before. It makes her stomach swoop uneasily. 

“Of course! Your hair’s really nice.” His voice sounds genuine, not like he’s making fun of her (another difference in tonality she’s picked up on). Percy grins at her crookedly. “But if you ask me, you should wear it like that more often.” He gestures to the dark curls tumbling down her shoulders, free from their usual braids. “I like it that way.”

Annabeth blinks. She did not see that one coming. Her cheeks feel hot again, and she silently thanks her mother she wasn’t born fair-skinned.

“You wanna go to dinner with me?” Percy asks.

She just nods slowly, not trusting herself to say anything else.

They walk in tandem to the dining pavilion, Percy chattering away beside her. She stays silent as she usually does, feet thudding on the rough cobblestone, running over what just happened in her mind. 

Pretty. Percy said her hair looked… pretty. Why did it matter so much? Was it supposed to?

She glances at him sideways. His expression is animated, and he’s gesticulating wildly as he talks about… something. Blue cookies, by the looks of it. He always smiles like that when he talks about blue food.

He told his mom about her hair. Is that supposed to mean something? Anything?

Annabeth smiles to herself. Maybe it isn’t. But she’s realised something; that she- Annabeth Chase- had somehow wormed her way into the list of ‘Percy Jackson’s Favourite Topics to Talk About’.

And she’s realised something else: she doesn’t hate it half as much as she expected she would.

Chapter Text

When Annabeth knocks at the door to Cabin Three, it’s with a feeling of trepidation and suspicion building in her gut. She has no idea why Percy invited her over when he knows full well two campers of the opposite sex aren’t supposed to be alone in a cabin. Basic camp rules. He may not have watched the orientation film, but she’s pretty sure Chiron would’ve told him about that.

Then, the door opens and Percy’s staring out at her, a lopsided grin brightening his face. “There you are! It was getting so late, I was worried you wouldn’t show up.”

“Uh huh,” Annabeth says, unsurely stepping inside. 

She’s been inside the Poseidon cabin a couple times before, so its immense size and lavish decor doesn’t faze her as much as it previously did. “And what scheme, exactly, did you rope me into this time?” she asks dubiously.

Percy proudly gestures to his right, like, Ta da! Annabeth looks in the same direction, skeptically, and her eyes widen at the scene before her.

Somehow, Percy’s created a snug-looking cove in the corner of his cabin. A small box TV with a DVD player has been set up beneath the windows, and a blanket fort- complete with plush aquamarine cushions and abalone blankets- has been carefully built in front of it. Plastic bowls lie on the floor, filled to the rim with so many snacks it makes Annabeth sick to her stomach just looking at them- caramel popcorn, blue cookies, sour candy, you name it. It looks a little thrown together, but that somehow makes it all the more charming.

“Percy,” Annabeth breathes once she’s found her voice. “What is all this?”

“You know how you mentioned in Waterland you never watched a movie?” Percy asks, sauntering his way to the blanket fort already. He plops himself down on the floor. “I decided to give you a taste of what you’re missing out on!”

Annabeth blinks, still rooted to the spot. It isn’t the fact he did all this that surprises her so much as the fact he remembered. “But how did you get all…” She waves her hands toward the arrangement. “... this ?”

Percy shrugs carelessly. “Pulled a couple strings. Chiron gave me permission to use the spare TV in the Big House and Beckendorf helped me rig it up.”

“And the snacks?”

“I paid the Stolls to smuggle some in from the nearest convenience store. Except the blue cookies,” he adds. “My mom sent those the other night.”
“Okay, so let me get this straight.” Annabeth folds her arms across her chest. “You went through all this trouble- asking Chiron, getting the help of campers you barely even know yet- just to show me two hours of fictional characters blasting stuff and screaming their heads off?” She could watch the Ares campers doing the same thing at Capture the Flag tomorrow if she wanted to. In person, might she add.

Percy rolls his eyes. “I believe the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you’. And we’re not watching an action movie! Where’d you get that idea?”

“I thought that’s what you were into!”

“Well you thought wrong. Now come on, Chase, or are you gonna spend the whole night interrogating me like you’re Judy Hopps?”

“I have no idea who that is.” She settles herself down on the cushions beside him. 

Percy shakes his head disappointedly. “Clearly I have a lot of work to do, converting you.”

Annabeth shoves him teasingly. “Shut up, Seaweed Brain. What’re we watching?”

He grabs a remote and presses a button. “Moana. It’s one of my favourites. I know you’re gonna love it.”

Annabeth scoffs disbelievingly. “We’ll see,” she mutters under her breath.

They’re not even ten minutes into the movie and she’s already started reading into it like it’s one of her designs for a building.

“This ‘Te Fiti’ looks a lot like Gaia,” Annabeth comments. “Except without the murderous intent to kill her husband.”

“She doesn’t have a husband, Wise Girl,” Percy retorts. 

“Exactly!” Annabeth points at him. “Which is what makes this so different from Greek mythology. There’s hardly a character who isn’t romantically involved with someone else in our myths”

Percy grumbles, “Are you going to be like this the whole movie? Spitting genius facts with no filter?”

“Hey, you’re the one who dragged me into this,” she says cheerfully. It’s a weird reversal of roles. Normally, Percy’s the one to get on the last of her frayed nerves, not the other way around. But she realises she likes being the one to piss him off. Definitely not because he looks cute when he’s annoyed. Like a baby seal. 

“Don’t make me regret it,” Percy sighs. 

The movie progresses that way, with Annabeth making comparisons of the Polynesian myths to the Greek ones she’s so familiar with (“So Maui is basically if Hermes and Hercules had a child”). As she does, she also takes careful note of Percy when he watches the movie. He wasn’t lying when he said it was one of his favourites. He practically has the whole script memorised, which is obvious from the way he mouths the lines to himself (the ‘I am Moana of Motunui’ speech in particular). He also knows the songs by-heart; something she only came to realise, with a terrifying pang, when he started singing along to ‘Where You Are’ with Moana and her parents.

“Oh my gods, you sound awful,” Annabeth complains. So much for role reversals. “Please shut up. If I wanted to suffer, I’d just go listen to Chiron’s old Italian records.”

“Consider the coconut!” Percy sings dramatically (and very much off-key), completely ignoring her. She pulls a face at him, which he returns with a sly smirk. She grabs some caramel popcorn from the bowl nearest to her and tosses it at him, just to wipe that look off his face.

In retaliation, Percy whacks her lightly with a pillow. They go back and forth, in a flurry of food and fabric, until they lie sprawled in a giggling, snickering heap on the blankets. Percy has popcorn lodged in his hair, and she has sugar from the sour candy smeared across her cheek. As the song- and Percy’s horrible rendition of it- comes to an end, Annabeth thinks: maybe this won’t be such a bad experience after all.

Later on, after Maui’s trapping of Moana in the cave (which she yelled at in an uncharacteristic outburst of indignation), Annabeth says, “Y’know, Moana kind of reminds me of Clarisse. Not personality wise,” she adds rapidly, when Percy looks at her in horror. “But they look the same. I mean, they’ve got the same hair and eye colour.”

“I guess,” Percy says doubtfully. “But Clarisse isn’t, like, drop-dead gorgeous.”

Annabeth’s brows rise. “Excuse me?”

“Wait.” Percy’s freckled face reddens. “Did I say that out loud?”

“Yeah, you did!” Annabeth’s feels herself grinning. “You think Moana’s gorgeous?”

“No! I mean, yes,” Percy prattles. “I mean- she doesn’t look… bad?” he finishes weakly.

Annabeth laughs at the look on his face. “Relax, Seaweed Brain. It’s not like I’m going to tell anyone.”

“You won’t?”

“Nope. But you’re never hearing the end of it from me.”

Percy shakes his head. “Better than everyone else finding out.”

“Yeah.” She inches slightly closer to him, though she doesn’t know why. “Though I can’t say I blame you.”

Eventually, the movie nears its end. And it turned out to be a lot more entertaining that Annabeth initially anticipated. Of course, Percy’s singing isn’t a highlight (he warbled his way through ‘How Far I’ll Go’ and ‘You’re Welcome’ like a frog with a bad cold, with a badly-choreographed dance routine to match). The animation, though- which she thought would be childish and tacky- quite literally took her breath away. She actually gasped in equal parts fear and disgust when Moana ended up in Lalotai, and gripped Percy’s wrist for reassurance he was still there. Not exactly her proudest moment. And what made it especially worse was the way her stomach somersaulted when he squeezed her hand back, like he knew what she was thinking.

As Annabeth watches, Moana reaches out to place the heart of Te Fiti into Te Kā’s chest (“So they were the same goddess! I knew it!”). Though her gaze is fixated on the screen, she can feel Percy’s eyes on her. She tries to ignore them.

“If only it were that easy,” she whispers, chewing on a gummy bear.

Percy doesn’t respond with a sharp retort like she thought he would. “What do you mean?” he asks, genuinely interested.

“Moana didn’t have to go to war,” Annabeth says thoughtfully. “She just… understood the monster in a way the others didn’t.”

“That’s a smart way to look at it.”

“It’s the only way to look at it, Captain Obvious. What I’m trying to say is, you don’t have a lot of Greek myths like that. It’s not everyday the hero wins and gets to return home.”

Percy scratches his head. “I guess Polynesia and Greece really aren’t that similar, huh?”

Annabeth locks her eyes with his. “Not at all.”

When the ending credits roll, Annabeth realises she was far too invested in the story to criticise how unrealistic Te Kā’s lava physics were. Go figure.

After the movie is over, Annabeth doesn’t leave immediately. Instead, she stays back to help Percy polish off the last of the snacks.

They’re down to the last of the blue cookies when he offers her the bowl. One cookie left. She nudges it back to him.

“It’s your mom’s,” she says reasonably. “You want it more, don’t you?”

“Nah, I had like ten of them anyway.” Percy takes the cookie and places it in her palm. Annabeth jerks a little at the sudden contact. His hand is surprisingly warm when she isn’t holding it for fear of her life. “You take it.”

Annabeth accepts it without another word, and he leans against the pillows, barely a hair’s breadth away from her, his eyes fluttering shut. Having him so close to her, seeing him in such an unguarded state feels… wrong. No, not wrong.

Intimate.

She doesn’t thank him for the last cookie. He doesn’t ask her to.

“So, how would you rate your first ever movie night?” Percy asks as she’s going out the door.

“Nine out of ten,” she shoots back.

“Really?” Percy pouts. “I thought it’d be a hundred percent!”

“Yeah, well, your singing really disrupted the experience,” Annabeth remarks. “So did your crying over the reprise of ‘How Far I’ll Go’.” Though she did get a little teary-eyed at that part herself.

“It was a genuinely heartfelt and emotional moment!” Percy counters, pretending to sound offended. 

“That you’ve watched, like, nine times already.”

“Well, sue me for having emotions,” he grouses.

Annabeth giggles at the petulant look on his face. And then she reaches out and squeezes his shoulder, surprising the both of them. 

“Thank you,” she says softly. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.”

Percy’s eyes light up. “So do you wanna make this a weekly thing, or..?”

She laughs for real this time, and turns on her heel. “I’ll think about it. Goodnight, Seaweed Brain!”

“Night, Annabeth!”

She lingers on the porch longer than she means to, even after he’s locked the door and turned the lights out. 

So this is what it’s supposed to feel like. To have a home. To have someone who cares about you.

She hasn’t felt that way since Luke and Thalia. It’s been so long, she almost forgot.

Just like Moana standing on the edge of the ocean, Annabeth feels like she’s standing on the edge of something.

She doesn’t know what it is yet.

But for the first time, she’s not afraid to look.

Chapter Text

When she steps out of her cabin, she doesn’t know what time it is. All she can register is the bitingly cold wind causing gooseflesh to erupt on her arms, and the pounding of her heart, loud enough to wake the dead.

Annabeth shivers slightly. She readjusts her Yankee’s cap, tugs tightly on the Star Wars hoodie she donned; one of Luke’s old sweatshirts, which seems ironic, given the reason she woke up in the middle of the night. But she was in a blinding rush, breath heaving, body trembling. She’s only just managed to pull herself together even slightly, yet she still feels as if she’s slipping away to become part of the darkness that surrounds her.

She starts walking, unaware of where her feet are taking her, until the porch she left earlier that evening comes into view. Upon seeing him seated on the steps, gazing out at the woods, she slows down. Artemis’s moonlight spills onto Percy’s figure, making the turned-up tips of his blond curls glisten silver. His right foot drums a soft, steady pattern onto the porch steps.

Annabeth opens her mouth to call out his name, when he says hers. Not even looking her way, not even blinking. She sweeps her invisibility cap off her head, rematerialising in the process. She sits beside him, leaving a good few inches of space between the two of them.

“How did you know it was me?” she asks carefully, bringing her knees to her chest. She’s not here to make small talk, but she certainly can’t start the conversation with the reason why.

Percy shrugs, still not turning to face her. “Heard your footsteps.”

“How’d you know they were mine?”

“Cause I know you.”

Annabeth nods. Fair enough. Two weeks of being on a quest together meant you tended to learn each other’s habits and patterns, memorise the other’s way of life until you knew them better than yourself. Or at least, that was their case. She isn’t so sure about anyone else.

“So why are you up?” Percy asks, switching from tapping his foot to rapping his fingers.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she shoots back.

“I asked you first.”

She doesn’t reply. Her breaths fill the air, encompassing the silence between them. Just as she’s managed to gain control of them, they come out shaky, fragmented.

“Hey.” This time, Percy’s voice comes out less teasing, more gentle. “What’s wrong?”

Annabeth fiddles with the drawstrings of the hoodie. “Nothing,” she says, voice small.

Percy finally rotates toward her, and his face slackens. She doesn’t know how she must look right now, but based on how furrowed his eyebrows are, she figures it can’t be good.

“Your eyes are really red,” he whispers, hushed. “Have you been crying?”

Annabeth tries to say something. Fails. He leans in closer, brings his hand up to her cheek, thumbs the skin beneath her eye. She flinches at how warm he is on such a cold night. Her stomach tightens. Every muscle in her body tenses, screaming at her to push him away, like how she’s pushed everyone away.

But she doesn’t.

“Annabeth?” Percy asks worriedly. “Talk to me. Please.”

She heaves a quivering sigh. “I had… a nightmare,” she finally states.

“About what?”

Silent again. She focuses on the porch light, not trusting herself to open up.

“ Annabeth. Look at me.” She does, with great effort. “About what?”

“About… you,” she says. Quiet, restrained. Struggling to meet his eyes.

Percy shifts closer, diminishing the gap between them. “Okay. What happened to me, exactly?”

Annabeth twiddles her thumbs. His fingers are still gripped tightly around her chin, making it hard for her to concentrate. “It was… that night,” she states softly. “Luke and you. In the woods.”

Percy’s face clears. “The fight.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Exactly the way it happened. Until it wasn’t.”

“Go on.”

She notices he’s using his other hand to rub small, reassuring circles into her shoulder. She doesn’t point it out.

“Luke got the last hit,” she explains shakily, staring at the ground. “He sliced your chest. Before I could stop him like I actually did. And there was…” She blinks, her vision suddenly blurring. “…There was so much blood, Percy.”

Tears spill down her cheeks now as her body shakes with sobs. The remnants of what she remembers of her dream flood her mind- Riptide flying to meet Luke’s Backbiter in a flying arc of Celestial Bronze; Percy hitting the ground, his greying skin stark against the dark leaves of the forest floor; the pool of crimson blood forming around his corpse. The words pour out of her in a raging torrent like water from a dam, and she’s powerless to stop it.

“There was so much blood , and it was all yours,” Annabeth gasps, “And I couldn’t help you! You were gone before I could-”

“Hey. Hey ,” Percy says firmly. He pulls her against him so her head is buried in the crook of his shoulder. Normally she would writhe away from him, but something, some seemingly invisible force, pins her to his side. Like he’s a magnet. Her centre of gravity. “It was just a nightmare, okay? A nightmare. That’s all. I’m here.”

His arms are wrapped around her in a protective embrace, like a cage that shuts out her whirlwind of thoughts and fears. She hates that it works, hates that all it takes is his voice and arms to dull the terror, even if only for a moment. He massages her shoulder like it’s second nature, whispering words she can’t decipher into her hair.

“I’m here,” he repeats, louder this time. “I’ve got you.”

Annabeth works up the courage to look into his eyes. Blue and sparkling and full of life, nothing like the dull, soulless eyes that haunted her in her meagre hours of sleep not so long ago.

“You wanna stay?” he asks. “Or should I walk you back?”

Truth be told, she could stay like this all night (as much as she hated to admit it), with her nose grazing his neck and his arms around her waist. But the harpies would surely kill them- it’s a miracle they haven’t picked up their scent yet.

“I’ll go,” she breathes, getting to her feet. “But you don’t have to-”

Percy’s already up before she’s able to, still holding her hand. 

“I’m coming with you,” he says with finality.

All the way back to Cabin Six, they don’t say a word. But his thumb rubs against her knuckles over and over again like a heartbeat, a mantra, a reminder: I’m here. We’re safe. And I’ve got your back, always.

Chapter Text

It was supposed to be an easy mission, Grover informed them. Find the river god, deliver the bow and arrow and get back to camp. Simple as that. Shouldn’t take them more than two days, tops.

Well, somehow, two days had turned into four and four stretched into a week. And yet here they were, strolling along the banks of the Hudson in a forest, bow and arrow still tucked safely in Annabeth’s satchel. The only thing even close to a divine presence they came across was Athena miraculously accepting one of her prayers to stop Grover’s snoring on their second night.

“Well?” Annabeth asks anxiously as Percy emerges from the river. His clothes and hair are dry almost immediately, a power she secretly envies him for possessing. 

Percy shakes his head, and Annabeth sees Grover’s shoulders slump out of the corner of her eyes. “Nope. No sign of the guy. I’m starting to think he doesn’t want to be found.” He clambers towards them.

Annabeth sighs in disappointment. “Well, we might as well set up camp here for the night. Let’s see if we can find some food.” Since she originally anticipated a quick end to their quest, they ran out of rations earlier this morning, something she silently berates herself for. She’s supposed to be six steps ahead, always thinking, always strategising. And yet she can’t even determine how much food they need to sustain themselves. Some leader, she is.

After clearing the leaves in the grove, they set off deeper into the trees to locate something they can feed themselves with- nuts, berries, anything . Grover plays a haunting melody on his reed pipes, which he maintains is supposed to grow apples from any tree (though they haven’t seen any sign of the fruit yet, so Annabeth is beginning to question the validity of his claim). Percy walks beside her, telling her lame jokes he learnt over the years. It’s corny, but she can tell he’s trying to keep her preoccupied, prevent her spirits from being dampened.

Annabeth opens her mouth to guess the punchline to his joke about a stray hellhound when she trips over a root protruding from the grass. She immediately reaches up to grab a branch in order to steady herself, but lets out a hiss as a sharp pain shoots up her arm. She falls to the ground anyway and brings her hand in front of her face to assess the damage. Her palm is sticky with blood, pouring from a nasty- but shallow- cut. She glances at the tree beside her to identify what caused the wound, and curses under her breath in ancient Greek. Its branches are laden with spiky thorns.

“That does not look good,” Percy says from behind her.

Though her hand is throbbing, Annabeth manages to roll her eyes. “No shit, Sherlock (yet another pop culture reference Percy taught her- why did everything always come back to him?).” 

She reaches for her satchel, but Percy beats her to it.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” she asks in surprise, as Percy kneels in front of her.

“Helping you,” he says matter-of-factly, opening her bag and pulling out the First Aid supplies: medicine. Dressing. Bandages.

She attempts to push him away with her other hand. “You’re wasting time, Seaweed Brain. I can do this myself.” She nudges him a little harder when he doesn’t relent. “Go find us some food.”

“Everything okay over there?” Grover calls.

“Fine!” Annabeth yells back before Percy can say anything. “Why are you doing this?” she whispers to the son of Poseidon as he pours some medicine onto a wad of cotton.

“It would be harder if you had to do it on your own,” he replies, as if it’s the most obvious fact in the universe.

“But the food…” She winces as Percy dabs at the wound to clean the blood. Despite herself, her shoulders ease. She’s surprised at how soft Percy’s touch is. Reverent, almost. He knows exactly how much or how little weight he has to use so he doesn’t make the cut worse. It’s like he knows her .

She doesn’t even realise she was holding her breath until hers starts to sync with his.

“Grover’s on it,” Percy replies in reassurance, reaching for the bandages next. 

Annabeth eyes him suspiciously. “You sure you know how to use this stuff?”

“Hey, I pay attention in lessons!” Percy grumbles, a hint of sarcasm coming back to him. 

“Mmm. Doubtful. But I guess I have to trust you. If you accidentally kill me, though, you’re paying for my health insurance.”

He smirks at her, and the sight actually makes her heart stutter. “Gotcha.”

Annabeth suddenly realises it’s gone very, very quiet, save for the rushing of the river in the distance. Over Percy’s shoulder, she sees Grover staring at them, eyebrows raised devilishly. Annabeth watches, horrified, as Grover brings his reed pipes to his lips and starts playing a cheery tune- a wedding march of all things .

Annabeth glares at Grover furiously, wishing her eyes could burn his mouth off then and there. Put Percy doesn’t seem to notice, actually humming along as he dresses her wound. His calloused fingers are nimble as they wrap the bandage and gauze around her injured hand. He’s as steady as a rock. Her rock . 

Seaweed Brain, she thinks, her cheeks flooding with color.

“There,” Percy says proudly, when he’s finished. He offers her his hand, which she accepts, mirroring how she picked him up, first in their Capture the Flag match and then right before his fight against Ares. “Stay off monster fighting for a while,” he instructs her. “Let G-Man and I handle it.”

Annabeth flushes even more at the sheer implication of his words. “And sit by like a damsel in distress? How sexist do you think that sounds?” But he’s joking again, she knows. Because he knows better than to underestimate her strength.

To her relief, Grover stops playing the gods-awful song and comes up to them. He claps them both on the back. “Well, I for one, am extremely hungry. Found anything yet?”

She’s about to ask him if his reeds had found anything yet, when it hits her. “The river!” she exclaims suddenly. “Percy, you could find us some fish!”

Percy facepalms himself. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that before?” He sprints off in the direction they came from, muttering to himself about how stupid he is. She watches him go, something weird bubbling in her chest.

She’ll make fun of him later, she swears, but all she can think of right now is how… safe he just made her feel.

Grover turns to Annabeth, a knowing glint in his eye. “So… you wanna tell me what that little display was all about?”

Annabeth nurses her hand, playing his question off with a small shrug. “He helped me. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh. And if it’d been me in his place, you’d probably have run me through with your dagger.”

“Not true.” 

But it is. And they both know it. Though Annabeth isn’t quite sure what ‘it’ means yet.

Grover chuckles. “Sure.” Then he’s serious. “He really cares about you, y’know?”

“I will stab you,” Annabeth proclaims, deadpan.

“He does! It’s kinda disgusting, to be honest.” The satyr mock-shudders. “I can feel how much he lo- likes you,” he corrects himself. “As a friend, of course. Nothing more.”

“You’re going to feel a lot more in your groin if you don’t go after him,” she says threateningly, pretending to reach for her dagger.

Grover bleats in terror (even after all these years, she can still scare him) and trots off. As Annabeth follows him silently, she can’t help but think back on his comments.

Percy cares about her. Common knowledge- they all know it. So why does it make her heart swell like a balloon?

And the way he’d treated her wound. So casually, like it was normal. Like he didn’t expect anything from her in return.

Why is he treating her this way? And most importantly- why does it even matter? Stuff like this never mattered to her.

She’s starting to think this is what insanity feels like.

But if is? It isn’t half-bad.

Chapter Text

“Hey, ‘Beth,” Malcolm calls, when she enters her cabin from the showers. He’s deeply engrossed in reading a map tacked to their wall.

“Hi, Malc,” Annabeth replies. Malcolm is probably the only demigod at camp who can get away with calling her that without a dagger to their throat. 

“Percy wanted me to tell you something.” Malcolm looks up from the map he’s studying.

“Oh?” Annabeth reaches up to undo the towel winded around her head, allowing her curls to fall to her shoulders. Ever since Percy mentioned he liked her hair in its natural state, she’d been keeping it so. Absolutely coincidental, of course. Nothing to do with how much she likes the way his eyes light up when he sees it. She would have to braid it eventually, though- it could get awfully tangled, especially if their minor quests became a common occurrence. “What did he say?” she asks.

“He told you to meet him by the lake.” Malcolm pushes his glasses up his nose and cocks an eyebrow at her. “Something about it being very important.”

“Okay.” She tries to tamp down the stupid fluttering in her chest, which seems to happen more often now, even at the slightest mention of Percy. “I’ll go, then.”

“Be back before curfew!” Malcolm calls as she leaves. “I don’t want our head counselor to be eaten by the harpies!”

When Annabeth reaches the lake, the sun has almost completely disappeared behind the horizon. The twilit sky is awash with indigo, and the moon has begun to make its appearance, its crescent shape gleaming brightly. The lakewater is a scintillating navy blue to match the sky above.  

Annabeth frowns and glances around, leaning against a nearby tree. No sign of Percy. Where could he possibly be?

Just as she’s assumed it’s a prank and is about to leave, she hears a rustling from above her. She lets out a yelp as a familiar blond head pokes out of the branches.

“You made it, Wise Girl!” Percy says enthusiastically, hanging upside down from a branch. His face is twisted in a crooked grin, the kind that usually drives Annabeth up a wall, but now just makes her face heat like Hephaestus’s forges.

“I made it?” she retorts. “I’ve been here for the past fifteen minutes!”

“My bad,” Percy says sheepishly. He flips himself over and drops from the branch to land in front of her. He dusts some imaginary dirt off the flannel of his jacket. “Sorry I was late.”

“You’ve got a leaf in your hair,” is her only comment as she reaches out to pluck it  out. She might be imagining it, but his breath catches as her fingers brush over his curls. “So why exactly am I here?” Annabeth asks, folding her arms across her chest. “Planning to drown me?”

“Haha. No.” Percy beckons at her, with a roll of his eyes. “I’ve got a surprise for you. Come with me.”

“Famous last words,” she mutters under her breath. But she follows him anyway.

He leads her to the edge of the water, where a single canoe is waiting at the docks. Annabeth watches, bemused, as he jumps into it.

“What is this?” she asks, nonplussed.

“You’ll see.” He holds out his hand. “Hop in.”

Ever the gentleman. Annabeth takes it, ignoring how, once again, his touch electrifies every nerve in her body. 

So he’s taking her on a canoe ride. Fun. 

There’s a lot that could factor into messing his plans up- the nine PM curfew, for starters, and not to mention the fact she gets seasick- but she forgets all that as she seats herself, taking care not to make the flimsy boat wobble. She’s about to ask where the oars are when the canoe starts moving, seemingly of its own volition. 

Of course. Son of the Sea God, Annabeth. Duh.

She doesn’t question what Percy’s doing, where he’s taking her. Which she technically should be doing; just yesterday, he and the Stoll brothers planted a perfume bomb in the Aphrodite cabin, which means she’s just as likely to be the victim of one of their poorly-thought-out schemes. But this doesn’t feel like a prank to her. Maybe it’s her instincts, which she prides herself on never being wrong. And besides, Percy’s presence beside her seems more real somehow than it’s ever been before.

It’s not a totally quiet night. She can still hear the crackling of campfire and the chatter of campers on Long Island Sound. But it all adds to the already-serene ambience.

The only real problem is how the rocking of the canoe makes her stomach churn uncomfortably. But she does her best to disregard that by staring at the water beneath the boat. Something to focus on. As she’s marveling at the rippling reflection of the moon (did it always look so big and impressive?), Percy says beside her, “Something on your mind?”

“Not really,” she admits. 

“That would be a first,” he teases. “You’re always thinking about something. Can’t remember the last time I haven’t seen your brain working.”

“You’ve known me for only a month, Seaweed Brain. There are other things I do.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

Annabeth reaches out and dips a finger in the water, unable to resist. She can’t help herself- it’s not every day ridiculously cute boys take her out on moonlit canoe rides. She might as well make the most of it. “Well, I like reading in my downtime,” she explains. “You already knew that. But I also draw. And weave, too.” She’d never told anyone explicitly about her hobbies; they usually just found out by spending time with her. Which, come to think of it, almost never happened.

“What do you weave?” Percy asks curiously.

“Small stuff.” She pulls her hand out and flicks some water at him. Percy flinches but pokes his tongue out at her. “Decor for our cabin. Baskets. Bookmarks.”

“That’s interesting,” he says earnestly.

Annabeth side-eyes him. Was he pulling her leg? 

“Not kidding,” Percy promises her, as if he can hear her thoughts. And she believes him immediately. How can she not, when she already trusts him so much?

“Anyways…” She meets his gaze. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company tonight?”

“So formal. Have you been reading Shakespeare again?”

“Shut up, Jackson, and answer the damn question.”

“Okay, okay.” He smiles at her almost shyly- a far cry from his trademark troublemaker smirk- and says, “Happy birthday, Annabeth.”

“Huh?” Her face contorts.

“It’s July twelfth, isn’t it? Your birthday?”

Annabeth’s mouth falls open. It is her birthday. What with how busy she’s been this week, it completely slipped her mind.

Percy is looking at her worriedly. “Please don’t tell me I messed the date up.”

“No, no, you got it right,” she says, quick to reassure him. “But how did you know?”

“Asked Chiron.”

“ Why ?” She’s truly confused (which is rare). She never celebrates her birthday, ever. When she first got to camp, she specifically instructed Chiron not to make a big deal out of it. She would even turn down any gifts the other campers tried to give her.

It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate the attention. It was just that her birthday was a hurtful reminder of the day she darkened her father’s doorstep, became nothing more than an inconvenience in his life. Even worse- he got married to her stepmother on Annabeth’s birthday, which just added insult to the injury.

“I know you don’t like your birthday because of, um,” Percy clears his throat. “Y’know. Past events. But I wanted to give you something special. Cause… You don’t get that a lot.”

Annabeth stares at him, her stomach rolling- and this time, it has nothing to do with the motions of the boat. As she struggles to formulate an adequate reply, Percy motions with his hands. “Look around.”

Annabeth does- and gasps. Their canoe is surrounded by dozens of fireflies buzzing to and fro. The yellow light they emanate adds to the dreamy glow spilling from the moon, setting the lake alight.

“Chiron said there’d be a lot of them tonight,” Percy tells her, all too pleased with himself. “I got permission from him to bring you to the lake. Here.” He offers her an open jar, with a paper towel inside it. “Catch a few.”

“How?” she asks. She’s not used to not knowing things, but tonight, weirdly enough, it doesn’t faze her the way it should. Tonight, she feels strangely light- the lightest she’s felt in a long time.

“Here.” Percy demonstrates by cupping his hands. “Sweep them in the air, like a giant net or something.”

Annabeth copies him and carefully watches the fireflies. A small group- maybe three or four of them- approaches her, and she sweeps her hands as Percy told her to. She ungracefully dumps them in the jar, which Percy seals shut with a lid that has a couple holes poked through it.

“For ventilation,” he explains at her questioning look. “It’s for you.” He offers her the jar. She takes it from him and gazes at the fireflies whizzing around inside. They seem to resemble a moving constellation.

When she looks up at him again, a small box sits in the palm of his outstretched hand. The box contains a lemon cupcake- one of her favorites. She faintly recalls mentioning this to him exactly once. 

But he remembered.

This idiot.

“What is that candle ?” Annabeth asks, laughing, in an effort to stop herself from swooning like a lunatic.

“Oh, give me a break!” Percy pulls a hideous face at her, which only makes her laugh harder. “I had forty five minutes in Arts and Crafts to work with!”

“I’m surprised they let you use hot wax,” she remarks.

Percy shudders. “Almost burned my fingers off. I’m never touching that stuff again.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if you ever consider a future in candle-making.”

“Yeah, right. Go on.” He gently prods her leg. “Make a wish.”

Annabeth gazes at the candle thoughtfully for a few seconds, before blowing the flickering flame out. Then, Percy gives her a slice.

As they chew on the soft, spongy cake, Annabeth says, “Thank you, Percy. For all this.”

Percy blinks. “Did you just use my real name?”

“Hey, I know it exists. You’ve just got to earn its usage from me” She finishes her slice off and playfully flicks some more water at him. Percy grins but doesn’t retaliate. “What, are you afraid I’m gonna beat you?” she challenges him.

“Nah, I’m just letting you have it.” He leans in slightly closer, as if he wants her to hear him better. Their knees brush together and his scent sends her senses into irrational overdrive- sea salt and mint and vanilla from his blue chocolate chip cookies. “It’s your night, isn’t it?” he adds, voice low.

Oh, my gods. How can he just say things like that and not expect her to melt into a puddle on the spot? Especially when he’s gazing at her with those eyes- those stupid eyes that, in the moonlight, match the deep blue of the lakewater. He’s looking at her like she’s the only thing that matters, and it’s unsettling.

But would she be lying if she said she likes it?

Annabeth is afraid to open her mouth, for fear of all these thoughts pouring out of her like they did that night on Percy’s porch. So, before she regrets it, she reaches out to hug him. It’s for a few fleeting seconds, but when he pulls away, his face is burning crimson- that much she can tell, even in the dim light of the fireflies. The fact she can make him react that way makes her smugger than she wants to admit.

A wave hits the canoe, causing it to tilt to a side. Percy reaches out to steady it, but the sudden movement causes another wave of nausea to roll in Annabeth’s chest. She lets out a groan and accidentally slumps against Percy’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concerned.

“Water and I aren’t really the best of friends,” she mumbles.

“Huh? Wait. Hold up.”  He stares at her in disbelief. “Are you saying you get seasick ?” 

“Mhm.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“It didn’t seem important.”

“Well, it is important! I’m taking you back to shore.”

“No, wait!” Annabeth grabs his arm, feeling her cheeks grow hot again. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Percy eyes her unsurely. “I don’t wanna be responsible for your throwing up, or something.”

Instead of poking fun at him for that, she rests head on his shoulder. She feels him flinch in astonishment.

“I’m sure,” she says simply. “Can we just… stay like this for a little while?”

Percy hesitates for a moment. “Sure. Chiron gave us until curfew to return, anyway.”

Annabeth lets out a breath. “Okay. And, Seaweed Brain?”

He hums. “Yeah?”

“Thanks. Again.”

He brushes a curl from her forehead absentmindedly. “Don’t mention it.”

Letting people in has never been Annabeth’s strong suit. But in one way or another, she’s managed to let Percy (who she initially deemed to be a no-good troublemaker) in over the short course of a month. She clutches the jar of fireflies in her hands, wondering what it all means, about what’s growing between them. Though she has a sneaking suspicion, she isn’t quite ready to admit it just yet. 

For now, though?

Under the stars, fireflies whizzing around them, in the embrace of who has come to be her best friend, it’s enough. More than enough.

And if her heart feels like the moon above- glowing with the brilliance of millions of stars and fireflies combined- well, no one needs to know that but her.