Annabeth breathes a sigh of relief when he picks up on the third try.
"Annabeth?" the voice says, thick with sleep.
She tries to swallow the lump in her throat, and when she speaks the words are low and strangled.
"Percy?"
"Yeah," he breathes, and she can imagine him rubbing his eyes and running a hand through his mussed hair.
"I need you."
"What's wrong?" he says before she's even done getting the words out.
Annabeth blinks a few times, the sterile white walls of her bathroom offering no comfort. She looks down at the tiny tube next to the sink with a little pink plus sign in the middle.
When she first saw it, her immediate reaction was disbelief—she couldn't be pregnant. She had placed it down on the sink, wincing as it clanked against the tile, and had sat on the edge of the bathtub as far away as she could get. It's as if she was hoping somehow it would vanish if she didn't acknowledge it, didn't accept the fact that there's a cluster of cells growing inside her at this very moment.
It had taken her a few seconds to figure out who to call, but in the end the answer was obvious. It was Percy. Always Percy.
Her hands drop to her belly, and she wishes he were here, with her, so she wouldn't have to say it out loud. Because saying it makes it seem even more real.
"I'm pregnant," her voice says, but it's not her. It sounds foreign, almost.
The other end of the line is quiet, and she thinks for a horrible moment that he's somehow angry with her.
But he can't be angry. He's her best friend. He has always been there for her; she's not thinking clearly.
"I'll be right over," he replies, and the fact that he's coming for her at three in the morning makes her swipe away the tears that had been stinging her eyes for the past few minutes.
She clicks off her phone and waits, staring at the walls and counting tiles on the floor and trying her hardest to look at anything—anything—besides the pregnancy test sitting on her sink. The edge of the bathtub seems especially cold against her bare thighs and the quietness of the bathroom creates a sort of ringing in her ears.
Thankfully Percy lives only a few minutes away, and she tries to control her trembling as she hears him use his key to enter her apartment and crash into something in the kitchen. Despite the circumstances, the corner of her mouth twitches into an almost-smile as she hears him mutter a curse word under his breath.
"Annabeth?"
She doesn't answer. He shuffles into her room and knocks quietly against the bathroom door. Annabeth's brief moment of amusement is gone and the uncertainty, the humiliation, the fear is stronger than before.
"Can I come in?"
"Yeah."
She watches the golden knob turn, her gaze fixed dazedly on its slow rotation.
He takes an uncertain step inside, and she watches his sea green eyes drop immediately to her stomach, like he's already expecting to see the evidence of her pregnancy.
She motions to the bathroom counter, and Percy looks over too. His eyes are on the pregnancy test just long enough for him to see the tiny plus sign, before he returns his stare to her and takes a step forward, opening his arms.
Annabeth fills the empty space and the tears come easy now. She buries her head in his shoulder and sobs, not having the energy to try to restrain herself. She's not ashamed of crying; it's just Percy. He smells like home, like her childhood, like endless days playing out in the sun and countless study sessions in the library.
The tears dampen his shirt but he doesn't care. Percy just stands there, holding her tight, letting her cry. He doesn't say anything and Annabeth appreciates it. Nothing needs to be said. The way he's gripping her shoulders tight against his, the way he absentmindedly rubs a hand up and down her back, tells her how much he cares more than words could ever say.
Annabeth is the first to break the silence.
"I'm sorry."
He hums in disapproval, and Annabeth knows it's his way of telling her that she has nothing to be sorry for.
She says it again, anyway.
"Does Brandon know?" he asks, and Annabeth tenses even though she knew the question was coming.
"No. Just you."
Her voice is muffled against his shoulder.
Percy takes a deep breath, and she closes her eyes against the rise and fall of his chest.
"When will you tell him?"
"I don't know."
The guilt bubbles in her throat, and she bursts into another round of tears because, of course Brandon should be the first person to know.
He's her boyfriend. He's the father of the baby.
Percy pulls back to examine her face, and for the first time in her life she can't understand the look he gives her. It's stoic, reserved, and Annabeth feels all the more desperate because she needs him now, they've always been best friends, more like one person than two. Growing up they practically worked in synchronization, and she hates not knowing what he's thinking.
"I'm sorry," she says again, and normally she would despise herself for her behavior, but her head isn't quite on her shoulders. "I just don't know what to do. You were the first person I thought to call. And I know you must be thinking that I'm just using you and being unfair and I completely am but I'm so so scared Percy."
Her voice cracks on the last sentence.
He's silent still, and for the second time today she thinks he might be mad, and that thought is so unbearable that she turns her head away in shame.
"You know I don't think any of those things," he says at last.
And she's crying again, partially out of relief because, leave it to Percy to be completely understanding and loving and gentle no matter how horribly she screwed up.
She thinks she doesn't deserve him as a best friend. She probably never has.
But she's certain that without him, she's nothing. Perhaps she should have called Brandon first, but Percy being here right now feels so much more right than anyone else.
"Thank god you don't."
He pulls her back in for another hug and runs a hand through her curls. He feels so much warmer than the bathroom tile. His hands are gentle and comforting and she feels safer than she ever has in his arms.
She thinks maybe she always has.
She gets hugs from Brandon, but they're not the same. They're loving and passionate and she truly does care about him. A lot. And he cares about her too.
But the last few months come crashing down on her and she can't deny that it's not the same feeling as it was when they started dating. Tender moments between the two of them had become almost formal, estranged, like they were both trying too hard and they knew it, but both of them were too polite to say it out of fear of hurting the other person.
Not like with Percy. Everything had always come naturally between them. It wasn't easy, and it wasn't hard. It just was.
"I don't love him," she confesses, the relief of solidifying what her mind had been circling around but never touching for some time now made her feel lighter.
"I think you do," he replies, the stubble on his jaw rubbing against her forehead. And the only thing she can think of is right. How right this is.
"Yeah," she admits, and the words come out before she has time to process them. "But not the same way I love you."
Her heart clenches painfully at the concession, but she knows how true the words are the second they leave her mouth. And she doesn't regret them.
How can she?
She loves him.
She knows for sure.
He takes her by the hand and she stares blankly at their entwined fingers as he flicks off the light in her bathroom and leads her to her bed.
The contrast between the light and the dark causes spots to dance in Annabeth's vision, and she squints her eyes as Percy pulls down the covers and motions for her to get in.
She does.
He does too.
She curls up against him and he tucks the covers under her chin. One of her hands plays with a string on his hoodie, the other still holding his.
Annabeth rests her head on his broad chest, and his long, thick hair tickles her cheek.
It's so simple.
She breathes. She's okay. It's just Percy.
"What am I going to do?" she says, because she doesn't know. For once in her life she's completely clueless.
"We'll worry about everything in the morning," he tells her, his voice so confident and sure even though Annabeth knows he doesn't have any more idea how to handle this than she does.
But she believes him because she can. He won't leave her. She's not alone in this—he just proved it by using we instead of you.
They're a team. They always have been.
"But, Brandon…" she trails off, the darkness stealing her words.
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there."
"Thanks. For everything."
She sniffs against him and his fingertips reach up to touch her nose, tapping it lightly.
There's no rush of passion, burning heat, or desire.
Just warmth. Like somewhere along the way, Percy crawled into her heart and stayed there. Nothing has changed between them. Nothing is new. But Annabeth is pretty sure this is what love feels like. It's like Percy.
And maybe he hasn't said I love you back, but she knows it's there in every touch that's made for her.
It feels so right. So warm.
Just Percy.
Just some updates: I have tons and tons of ideas and so little time to write, so sorry that it's been taking a while but expect lots of new (and longer) stories soon :)