Written for my wonderful partner-in-crime Anna (you may know her as eveninganna; if you don't know her at all, then go read her works now they are glorious), who gave me a prompt on Tumblr: "Annabeth and Percy have to go to the opera. WHAT ENSUES? This is for you to decide." Plot twist, Anna, they never make it.

Disclaimer: Rick Riordan owns Percy Jackson and the Olympians.

Call it a Preemptive Intermission
Or: How to get out of going to the Opera, by Percy Jackson

"Do we have to go?"

From his seat on the edge of their bed, Percy can't see Annabeth, but he's pretty sure she rolls her eyes. "The tickets are a gift from Lord Apollo, Perce. He's one of the few gods who don't hate our guts. I'd like to keep it that way." Her voice calls back.

"But I already went to the opera." He complains, remembering the first time he retrieved the rogue golden singer for Apollo, back when he was sixteen. The god had given him free tickets to the next opera he and the Muses were starring in as thanks that time as well. Percy had ended up going with his mom and Paul, and he'd been bored out of his mind about ten minutes in. Don't get him wrong, Apollo and the others were great, but he'd seen the destruction his backup singers can cause, and that put a damper on things quicker than Melpomene could do her Muse of Tragedy thing. Not to mention that three-hour operas are basically a form of Roman torture for kids with ADHD.

Annabeth emerges from the bathroom in a black dress that falls a few inches above her knees. Her hair is done up so that the tips of her blond curls just brush the nape of her neck, and the little bit of make-up she has on only emphasizes the plump of her lips and makes her eyes resemble quicksilver.

"Percy, you of all people should know that turning down a god's gift is the equivalent of the middle finger to them." She says.

"I'm still alive, aren't I?"

She snorts. "Yeah, alive and on the shit list of half the pantheon."

Percy waves a hand and says, "Eh, technicalities," to which Annabeth's only reply is to roll her eyes. As she turns around to grab her clutch, Percy makes a choking sound.

From the front, the black dress looks simple and sophisticated, with the collar wrapping snugly around her neck and the sleeves hugging her arms all the way down to her elbows. The back is an entirely different story. A large portion of the dress is cut out, exposing the tan expanse of skin from her shoulder blades down to the small of her back.

Seriously, if she wants them to actually go to the stupid opera, she shouldn't be tempting him so much to just stay at home. She's known what her backless dresses do to him ever since his eighteenth birthday and their second anniversary a couple of years ago.

Annabeth glances at him from over her shoulder, and once she spots the ill-concealed desire in his eyes, she smirks.

"Careful, Seaweed Brain. The suit looks good without drool."

He tries to subtly wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, only to find that, yep, he really was drooling. When he hears Annabeth chuckle at him, Percy narrows his eyes and gets off of the bed. He strides up to her, wraps his arms around her waist, and pulls her in for a deep kiss. Annabeth immediately reciprocates, her hands coming up to rest on his chest.

"It's not my fault my girlfriend is too beautiful for her own good." He mumbles against her lips. He spots her rolling her eyes at his comment before he captures her lips again. Annabeth's hands move from tugging on his skinny tie to tangling in his hair.

"Perce, we gotta go." She says in between kisses.

"Do we?"

Percy's lips move to the corner of her mouth, then to her cheek, then her jaw. He trails kisses down her neck, settling on the juncture of her neck and shoulder. From this close, he can smell the subtle scent of her perfume: a combination of sweet and tangy and something intoxicatingly Annabeth that he groans and pulls her impossibly closer. His fingers trail lightly down her spine, idly tracing the hem of her dress near the dip of her back once they come across it. Annabeth arches into him, and huffs indignantly, when she feels him grin smugly against her neck.

"Yes— We— Do." Annabeth manages to twist in his arms and grab her clutch, but before she can break free of his hold, Percy's arms lock around her.

"Or we could just stay at home." He counters. He isn't even kissing her anymore, just dragging his parted lips lazily against her skin. Annabeth feels his heated breath on the skin behind her ear, and she shudders.

"And what're—shit, Percy—what're you going to do when Apollo decides to smite us for not showing up?"

"We can drop by at the end of the show, apologize to Apollo and say we got locked out. Operas do that, right?" He mutters, loosening his grip on hands easily find the hollows of her hips and slip into them, his thumbs lightly stroking at her hipbones.

Annabeth breaks out of his embrace and turns around to face him. There's a frustrated look on her face, one that tells Percy that either he's going to get in trouble for trying to seduce her and they're going to go to the stupid opera anyway, or he's worked her up enough that they're going to stay in their apartment for the night.

Annabeth's clutch drops from her hands. When she takes the lapels of his jacket in her fists and uses them to tug him closer, Percy doesn't bother to fight the grin threatening to take over his face.

"Fine," She says, divesting him of his jacket entirely, "But you're telling Apollo."

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