Hey guys, I told you guys I was trying to upload something every Sunday, and here we are. It's sort of a way to motivate myself to keep writing even during softball season. Bonus, I already have something I can upload next week, too. I still might write something else, though. This was just a quick one-shot I couldn't get out of my head, and I sincerely hope you guys enjoy, and stay awesome.
-ROC6
As Annabeth scowled at the man in front of her, unconsciously narrowing her eyes into a glare, and she figured it went without saying that she was having a bad day. The man, unfortunately for her, continued prattling on his order to the dead-eyed teenager behind the counter, and she pressed her lips together to keep herself from saying something that she'd regret when she was a little more lucid. Finally, he halted his endless recitation, and she subconsciously let out a minuscule sigh of relief, only to find him rattling off yet another order. She glared daggers at his back, somewhere in the back of her sleep-deprived mind debating the pros and cons of drop kicking him where he stood.
Honestly, if it was up to Annabeth, she'd be at home curled up on her couch watching the History channel, chugging Pepsi and enjoying some much deserved rocky road ice cream. Unfortunately, it was not up to Annabeth. It was 9:30 at night, she had an all-nighter ahead of her, and her God-forsaken coffee machine had broken. She could be at her apartment right now, drafting her Master's Architecture essay and losing herself to a caffeine induced stupor, but no, her coffee machine broke. Which was why she was in a Starbucks in New York at 9:34 waiting for the idiot in front of her to finish his never-ending order.
Not to mention, she hated Starbucks.
The man finally stepped aside, running a hand through his short cropped blonde hair and pressing gold-rimmed glasses onto his nose, seemingly still oblivious to the murderous looks she was giving him, though maybe that was for the best. The teenager, who had pale skin, dark hair and onyx eyes complete with vividly violet bags spared her a bored look. She took that to mean she could order.
"Short black coffee."
The teen gave her another bored look from underneath his bangs, and she knew he was restraining himself from rolling his eyes, "Name?"
"Annabeth," she stepped to the side to give the dark haired man behind her a chance to order.
She brushed a stray blonde curl behind her ear, contemplating her options. Rachel, her roommate, was out on a date with her boyfriend, and she'd likely be out all night, so Annabeth couldn't rely on her to make a three a.m. run to the nearest twenty-four hour convenience store for another pack of Red Bull. Rachel, unlike Annabeth, had stopped college after she earned her bachelor's degree, and since the redhead seemingly couldn't seem to keep a stable job, she was often up into ungodly hours painting. And keeping Annabeth company when Professor Wilikins gave her twenty-four hour essays.
Like tonight.
Annabeth pressed her hands deeper into her sweatshirt pocket, a baggy old gray one sporting a faded logo for her high school debate team. Her boss, a demon himself, it seemed, had demanded she work the early morning shift this week, and as a result, she'd been up since four a.m.. She was certain the bags under her eyes were pronounced, and her thoughts felt like they were being dragged through mud. She checked her phone. It looked like she still had about twenty-one hours until she could sleep again.
She sighed.
Not to mention the snow. Some vengeful deity had decided that New York needed a foot of snow overnight. Being the swarming metropolis, that obviously didn't last long, but nonetheless, she managed to get her foot wet this morning walking to work, and her boss insisted she walk around barefoot rather than drag "disgusting slush" all over the shop, never mind the fact that he made her attempt to shovel said slush barefoot. She swore the man was the devil incarcerate.
The name Jason was called, and the aggravating blond man from earlier picked up four coffees and carried them over to a table where she assumed his friends were waiting. Hardly a moment later, her name was called, and she grabbed her coffee on auto-pilot, taking a sip from it before turning abruptly to shuffle to the door.
Not a moment later, she found herself sprawled on the floor, hot coffee staining the front of her sweatshirt. A few feet away, the man that was behind her in line was trying to collect a variety of trinkets, including an unhealthy amount of Swedish Fish, three packs of gum and some Pokemon trading cards. Annabeth climbed to her feet, the caffeine from her single sip of coffee barely starting to stimulate her senses, ready to swear at the idiot for worsening her already terrible day.
He was scrambling across the floor, what seemed to be the contents of his pockets sprawled out in front of him, "Oh, God, I'm so, so sorry."
She would've crossed her arms if it weren't for the scalding hot coffee splayed across her chest, "Watch where you're going next time."
Seemingly satisfied with his collection efforts, he glanced up at her, his bangs falling on his face, "I'm sorry, honest."
She pursed her lips.
"Is there anything I can do? I'll buy you a new coffee," he brushed the dust off of his jeans, meeting her eyes for the first time, and she was shocked by how vividly green they were.
"Thank you," his eyes were hypnotizing, "You're also helping me clean up."
"What?" he looked at the floor, belatedly noticing the pool of coffee, the bit that wasn't all over her sweatshirt, and gave a bashful grin, "Oh. Yeah, sure."
He was quite boyish for someone around her age. She felt vaguely underdressed in her baggy sweatpants and matching gray hoodie. Not to mention, her hair was a rat's nest, pulled up in a low ponytail that had come half undone, sending blonde curls flying everywhere.
She knelt next to the stranger, who had already begun to try to clean up the mess, "No, you have to soak it up, like this. Now you're just spreading it around."
A blush crept up his neck, but he did as she instructed, "I'm Percy, by the way."
She nodded, her stray curls bobbing, "Annabeth."
The paper towels were practically tissues, and she could feel the coffee soaking through them until it was all over her hands. Fortunately, one of the teenagers behind the counter, a sunshiney one whose handwriting was so sloppy she couldn't read his nametag, had handed her a roll of paper towels after insisting that she didn't have to clean it up and that someone would be right out to deal with the mess. It lent Annabeth a smidgen of joy to remember how quickly he bent to her will. No one stood up under her scrutiny.
"So," Percy seemed unsure what to say as she picked up all of the wadded up paper towels they'd used, then carefully dropped them in the trashcan, "How are you?"
"Terrible," she deadpanned, "I'm going to go wash the coffee off my hands before before it dries."
She made her way to the bathroom, stopping after her hands were clean to splash some water on her face, trying simultaneously to make herself more presentable and keep herself awake. She stared ruefully at her reflection, eying the coffee on her sweatshirt. It probably wasn't coming off, she was terrible at getting stains out of laundry. Nonetheless, she vainly grabbed a few paper towels and wet them, trying to get some of the coffee off of the relic. Unsurprisingly, her efforts completely failed, and she ended up with a giant wet spot on her sweatshirt.
Finally, Annabeth surrendered to the coffee stain, pulling the sweatshirt over her head and revealing a loose navy t-shirt she'd been wearing underneath. She draped the sweatshirt over her arm, marching back to the counter. She was a New Yorker, she could handle a little cold when she would eventually have to walk back to her apartment. She refastened her ponytail.
If Percy was surprised by her change of appearance, he didn't bat an eye, instead smiling casually in that way he seemed unable to stop doing and met her eyes easily, "I ordered you another coffee. Short black, right?"
She nodded, vaguely surprised her remembered her order. Then again, it wasn't very complicated. She was scanning his face.
"So," he was struggling to find something to say, she could tell, "Snow, huh? Wasn't expecting that."
Deciding to throw him a line, she shook her head, "No, not at all. It made getting to work a nightmare."
He grinned, seemingly happy at her response, and they began talking about anything and everything. His eyes were utterly mesmerizing, the way they swirled with colors, each one richer than the last. And he had this silly grin, too, and this feeling of boyishness that amused her. He seemed so excited about the simplest of things.
He was making her utterly terrible day feel as though it wasn't quite so bad anymore.
He was kind, and staring into the depths of his gaze, she could see herself doing it for hours. It would be so easy for her to reach out and brush a lock of black hair from his face, so easy to forget her essay and lose herself for hours in his easy grin and carefree manner and talk to him for hours and hours.
She remembered how she read somewhere that one could fall in love with a stranger, if only for a moment, and in this moment she believed it.
There was a tired shout of "Annabeth" fracturing their conversation.
She found herself staring at him rather owlishly, gazing at him throughs the remnants of their conversation, unsure how to fill the now yawning silence between them.
"I think your coffee's ready," Percy supplied helpfully, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.
She frowned, "Yeah."
"You should probably get it."
"Yeah."
"And… I should probably go now," Percy ran a hand through his hair, leaving dark tufts sticking up in odd places, "Rachel, my girlfriend, will think I got lost if I stay much longer. Then I'll never hear the end of it."
Whatever she felt for him crumbled to pieces in what felt like forever but was less than an instant, and the effect was like plunging her head into a bucket of ice. She had her coffee. She had an essay to write due at eight tomorrow morning. She wouldn't get to sleep for another twenty hours.
Annabeth figured it went without saying that she was having a bad day, to put it lightly.
She had no reason to stick around, to keep talking to the oddly endearing stranger.
Still, Annabeth couldn't help one last look over her shoulder at the dark-haired, green-eyed stranger gazing thoughtfully into his twin coffee cups.
Since a number of you missed it in the author's note, I'm just going to restate that this is a one-shot, alright? Alright.