I knew you were trouble, a percy jackson and the olympians fanfic

Hey, it's my first song fic. I know this is not strictly what the song is about but if I wanted to write a Percabeth fic, I couldn't do it and make it that he left her in the end now could I?

So I did a Percabeth version of it and even now they are both pretty out of character but nothing too drastic.

Enjoy and leave a review. Thanks….

Once upon a time, a few mistakes ago, I was in your sights, you got me alone..

I sat by the bar nursing my drink. Today didn't exactly go the way I'd planned it. It was the day after my twenty third birthday and here I was; Friendless and devoid of my family. The party yesterday was still fresh in my mind and although I was alone today, yesterday made it all worth it.

I looked over my shoulder expectantly for the fourth time and this time I was not disappointed. Relief flooded me as my two best friends; Thalia and Piper, waltzed over to where I was. "Annabeth, what happened, what are you doing here?"

My mind runs through the events of today. I broke up with Luke because he was a cheating bastard and my own father thought I was being irrational. Is it so wrong then, that I am sitting here about to drink my sorrows into oblivion?

"I broke up with him, and I thought to tell you guys that you were, in fact, very right. Now I'd like to drink myself under the table and I would love it if you guys were here with me." My voice sounded sure and confident but if Thalia and Piper were as perceptive as I thought, they knew I was hurting inside. They knew I was just hiding behind a façade. They knew it was because I hated looking weak.

Thalia and Piper exchanged a look briefly and took seats on either side of me. I smiled appreciatively and ordered us three shots to start the night up.

They shut me down after my sixth shot, second glass of straight whiskey and one pint of beer. I wasn't drunk enough, but I was as drunk as I could manage without losing all consciousness. Now I could feel the loud music pumping and surrounding me. I merged myself into the crowd and let the music control my movements.

I felt eyes on me and I couldn't understand how in my drunken haze I could feel them but I stopped all my movements. I spun around searching for the eyes that were burning a hole on my body. I tried to track where the laser like gaze was coming from suddenly I looked up and there he was, through all the people standing by the door about to enter the club and he was staring right at me.

It didn't take long. He easily, much too easily, manoeuvred himself through the throng of swaying people and stood before me. His eyes were covered by sunglasses, although I don't know how he managed that when the room was already so dark. Everything about him made the hairs on my body stand up on end; his full lips, his pearly white teeth, his perfectly sculpted face and body. But I was too drunk to notice if it was from attraction or apprehension.

We danced very closely, extremely closely and soon I noticed we were nearly alone. It didn't matter to me though, because I was having fun. But my friends, my lovely friends knew it was time to go. They separated us easily and he smiled at them before making his way, again very swiftly, back through the crowd.

You found me, you found me, you found me.

A week passed since then and I was finally starting to try and move on. I wasn't bunking any more work days and feigning sickness, and I wasn't sprawled over my bed crying for something I just was not going to get. I had completed the first step of "getting over cheating fiancés" now I was integrating myself back into the world.

I had an hour, one hour, to take a stupid walk and return to my lovely job. My boss, Malcom, apparently disagreed with the fact that I was "okay" as I put it. His argument was, "You're 23 years old and you're already where you are. Give yourself another five years and I can almost guarantee that you will be senior partner. But for now, you're still hurting and you aren't focused. You need a break."

All I could think of his reasoning was; absolute nonsense. But he was also very correct, I couldn't focus. I conceded this loss and made my way out of the office.

The buzzing city of New York didn't bother me as I sat with my cup of coffee reminiscing on the happy and sad times. Suddenly a new noise caught my attention. It was rare that any noise would ever faze me, especially when I was in New York but this time, this time I looked up.

What I saw surprised me; he sauntered over to where I was and sat down opposite me.

I guess you didn't care and I guess I liked that and when I fell hard, you took a step back, without me, without me, without me.

A month had passed now and I was fully over Luke. People were surprised at my progress and everyone wondered how I did it but no one knew what it was or in my case who it was.

We agreed from the beginning of our friendship that we would never ever fall in love with each other. And so far it had worked. Peter Johnson was his name and freedom was his motto. He didn't live under anyone's rules and he didn't want me to get tangled up in what he described as a "messed up life". He told me his aim was to show me a good time but that meeting my friends and family, or his friends and family was a bad idea.

So we kept it a secret. I wanted to tell someone about this angel who had come out of nowhere and made me feel better and freer than I had in a very long time.

The second month passed and I started to notice the signs. Lingering gazes, Lingering thoughts, Lingering touches. Everything seemed infinitely more than before. I pointed this out to him and it did exactly what he said it would do.

It made him walk out the door.

And he's long gone, when he's next to me and I realised the blame is on me.

I should have seen the signs. Every time he lay beside me as he let me talk, he would never tell much about himself. Instead he would take my hand and play with my fingers or look out the window. Even when I stopped talking, he never seemed to notice he would just keep starting. He wouldn't move until suddenly he'd prompt me to continue my story and avoid all questions I ask about his welfare.

But he warned me, "I'm here to help you move on. And I know at some point soon, you are going to get tired of not knowing anything about me and you are going to walk out of my life. I'll survive that and we'll both move on. But don't fall in love with me; then I'll survive and you may never move on."

Of course I inquired for an explanation but all I got was, "I don't do commitment."

I remembered this now, sitting in my bed, staring at where he had just been.

I knew you were trouble when you walked in, Shame on me now, you blew me to places I've never been, till you put me down oh. I knew you were trouble when you walked in, Shame on me now, you blew me to places I've never been; now I'm lying on the cold hard ground. Oh, oh Trouble trouble trouble.

I think back to when I first saw him. He had on a black cap which blended in perfectly with his shaggy, pitch black locks. His stubbly jaw and chin contrasted with his straight pearly white teeth. He wore black jeans and white shirt below a black leather jacket. His black aviators sat perfectly on his face. Now I remembered what the hair raised reaction was for, and it wasn't because I was attracted to him. It was because his whole demeanour screamed trouble!

But being with him those first few weeks made me feel elated, on top of the world. Those field trips we went on speeding down highways on his Harley, without any inhibitions or fears. I was a novice in his world. I was a rookie player who had never experienced such care free liberty.

But now I felt trapped and I sank to the floor, thrown back into my own mental prison.

No apologies, he'll never see you cry, pretends he doesn't know, that he's the reason why you're drowning, you're drowning, you're drowning.

24 hours was a normal time for us to be apart. 48 hours wasn't abnormal either. 72 hours later, he walked back into my house at exactly ten pm.

I stared at him, he didn't look different. But as usual, he kept those sunglasses on. I didn't know what colour his eyes were because he always kept them hidden. His methods varied, it was either obvious contacts or Ray Ban Aviators.

He still looked as perfect as always, dressed in low dark trousers, a white shirt with black suspenders and a black blazer. His pitch black hair sat haphazardly and gracefully on his head and his lazy smile lay perfectly on his artistic face.

He didn't apologise for walking out on me, he didn't ask me anything about what happened that night. He just came up to me and held me in his arms as always and whispered into my ear our plans for the night as he trailed his lips up and down my neck.

Nothing had changed with him, but for me it was different. I think he knew that. Actually, I'm sure he knew that.

He knew what he did to me, but he did not care.

I enjoyed my time with him, but as we lay, talking, in my bed many hours later. I snapped.

Then there was a sequence of me trying hard to understand him and him effortlessly shutting me out.

Of course his effortless attempts were far more effective than my laboured ones and soon I sat in a pile on the floor with my distraught state of mind very visible on my face. He stood there, calmly with an expressionless face before shaking his head briefly and walking out the door.

Oh, and he had the audacity to tell me, "Whatever is bothering you, I'll give you a lot of time to figure it out, but I will not allow you to take it out on me. Once you're sorted, maybe we can be friends again."

I repeat, He knew what he did to me, but he did not care.

And I heard you moved on from whispers on the streets a new notch on your belt is all I'll ever be and now see, now see, now see.

I was better now, a week down the line. It took time but I could see that he never played me but I guess I always knew that.

He was very clear from the start what he wanted from our relationship and I had completely agreed to it.

Now I was doing one of the things we had done together. I sat atop my apartment building, staring out at the stars with a telescope. Something whispered to me and I swung the telescope downwards.

There he sat languidly on his motorcycle. Soon, a short but attractive woman walks out of the building and hops on the motorcycle with him.

He didn't waste any time moving on. I guess his ethos also involved the words "on to the next one" because he wasted no time at all.

He was long gone, when he met me and I realised the joke is on me.

I probably should have seen the signs. I should have known that, that was the kind of person he is.

He didn't do commitment because he was damaged. He preyed on the souls of the weak and lived off the feeling of knowing that at any moment, he could walk away from it all.

He'd probably been doing this for a while. Meeting people like me, befriending them, listening to them bare their souls and watch them bare their bodies and then leaving them once he felt that it was going too far.

But something good came out of it; the people he left behind learnt how to free their minds and be happy with the good things in life. That was an important message that he taught even me.

Although now I feel like a fool for thinking I was the first, I appreciated that his absence couldn't hurt me as much as others before had.

I remember the people he was with when he entered; A Latino a bit shorter than him and a larger burly African American man. The Latino had dark hair like his that was short and he was very attractive but he had a snake bite piercing on his lip. His expression was strange, it wasn't absolutely relaxed nor was it nervous. If I could describe it the first words that would come to my head would be troublemaker.

The African American was big and intimidating. He wore black leather jacket with black leather gloves. The black leather gloves made me shiver but that wasn't what caught my attention. It was the holster hidden inside his jacket, and it wasn't empty. All I could think was they are trouble.

But here I was, back in the office remembering all those little details that my mind decided to ignore and I wondered how I didn't notice before.

And the saddest fear comes creeping in, that you never loved me or her anyone or anything.

I try to understand what he could possibly have wanted from me or that girl or both of us.

What did we have in common that he was attracted to? Yes we were both very attractive. But I was blonde and she was a brunette so it wasn't our hair.

I was tall and slim but curvy, from what I saw she was shorter and rather thin.

Then it came to me, another thing that my brain noticed of its own accord. We were both wealthy.

Yes I worked for my money, but my paternal grandfather was a billionaire and when he passed away and my brother and I each inherited a portion of his massive empire. What I inherited I immediately re-invested but I also received a very expensive apartment building where I now live. The remaining flats are rented out to various high class customers.

The woman I saw him with lived on Central Park west in a very expensive apartment block.

But something struck me; he had never allowed me to pay for anything. The various times we bought food, and not cheaply too, he always footed the bill.

His clothes weren't cheap either. Sometimes I'd see his watch lying around and it would be an authentic Hublot or even an Audemars Piguet. His shirts were nothing other than Hugo Boss and his belts were constantly more nondescript Hermes designs. I was always curious but I never asked. Could she be his mystery money source?

It didn't seem likely. So money wasn't the motive and he didn't seem particularly attached to either of us. What was his game?

Seasons changed and it was the day of the summer solstice. For an elite group of people, that meant a party. An invitation of this party meant you were two things, incredibly wealthy and powerful. I was a blue blood which meant I garnered this invitation on both sides of the family. Blue bloods were rare, as far as I knew there were only eight of us but I only knew four names and four people; Nico Di Angelo, Thalia Grace, Jason Grace and Annabeth Chase.

The remaining four were much like us, incredibly gifted and rich. But there was one person I had heard of but hadn't met, Percy Jackson. He was the blue blood of the century. A perfect G.P.A and SAT score, An Oxford undergraduate with a first class and he was top of his year. A Harvard Graduate with PhDs in Marine Biology and Economics and then an Executive MBA. The worst part was, I hadn't included his sports achievements.

He was also impossible to find. The only reason I knew about him was because my mother hated his father. And I knew once I met him, I would hate him too because he would be an arrogant bastard like his father was. But I still wanted to meet him.

I looked to the side door where a guy who reminded me so much of Peter snuck in and immediately I thought trouble.

I knew you were trouble when you walked in

I obviously bolted towards the man. If that was Peter, I wouldn't be surprised if he'd snuck in here to cause trouble with his two friends.

What did surprise me though, is how he got through security. Now, that was virtually impossible.

My dress prevented me from moving very fast but I had a plan. I kept him in my line of sight as I kept up with him. He was good at sneaking around; I had to give him that. No one else had noticed him yet.

I saw him pause behind a pillar with an old woman standing in front of it. She was elaborately decorated with expensive jewellery and I had no doubt of what they were going to do so I moved faster.

Trouble trouble trouble

I expected him to attack in all that time it took me to get to his position but he didn't. He just stayed hidden behind the pillar and he seemed to be waiting for someone, probably his goons. I wanted to give him the chance to escape before I called the police.

He didn't see me as I approached him and tapped his shoulder.

He spun round and seemed like he was about to say something but his expression fell and his face became a blank page.

I questioned him obviously, "What are you doing here?"

He looked round and avoided my eyes, "None of your business."

"Of course it's my business, I haven't seen you in ages and when I do it's at the most exclusive party in the world. May I ask why?" I wasn't keen on his answer; I just wanted to foil his plan. Possibly stop it before he made the biggest mistake of his life.

"Look, if you're here, you'll find out why I'm here soon enough."

I wasn't pleased with that answer. Suddenly there were voices behind me.

"Percy Jackson, where on earth have you been? We've been looking for you for ages!"

My head spun round and round. Percy Jackson? the Percy Jackson?

I spun round back at him and I met the most beautiful green eyes I had ever seen.

I knew you were trouble when you walked in

I sat at the edge of the fountain, an hour later thinking about everything that had just happened.

Peter Johnson was Percy Jackson.

The brunette had been his maternal cousin

He was the son of my mother's number one enemy and her one warning was, "If you are ever unfortunate enough to meet him, run away immediately he is nothing but trouble!"

But the worst thing was; we couldn't our eyes off each other the entire night.

Trouble trouble trouble…

I sensed his presence long before I heard his footsteps.

"Why did you lie?"

He shrugged, "It was necessary. I never give anyone my true identity, let alone a complete stranger. Also you know the rules about who we can and can't date."

I nodded silently. "Why did you have all those rules?"

"I didn't want to lie to you and I didn't want to risk you falling for me in case I had to move to London and never see you again."

"But you're a blue blood why haven't we ever met?" There were so many more questions but now was not the time for all of them.

"I think we have. But I haven't been to one of this since I was 11, so about 15 years. You would have been nine and I looked completely different.

I looked at him now, he was beautiful. And his eyes, his eyes were definitely what made my decision for me. He sat there mirroring my position.

"What now?" I whispered as he leaned closer.

He smirked, "You know what happens now." And he kissed me chastely but gently at the same time and my body immediately came alive like he'd never been gone.

But the moment was ruined by my mother screaming, "Annabeth!"

Now I was in trouble, but I sure as hell didn't care.