A/N: Well, this one. I just thought it would be cute. I kind of wanted to show that even though Annabeth would definitely be able to control her children, she wouldn't be a bitchy mother because of it. And even if she was a busy person, that didn't mean she didn't find time for her children. Okay, basically I wanted to show that she wasn't her father.

Disclaimer: Rick Riordan owns PJO and Heroes of Olympus.

Architects

Annabeth was stressed. Granted, she wasn't usually the calmest person in the world, but she was really stressed this time. She was swamped with work, two blueprints to revise, one to finish and a design of a museum to start from scratch, all due tomorrow. She was irritated and frustrated, and it didn't help that Logan had picked today to be the day he'd start being a brat. Percy was gone for the next few days, checking the marine life in the East Coast with his team from work, and Logan seemed to be dealing with missing his dad by running all over the living room, jumping on and out of chairs, tables and couch, singing one song from a cartoon about a green horse at the top of his lungs. He had been at it for the past hour.

Annabeth wasn't a naturally patient person, and as much as she loved her son, he was driving her crazy at the moment. She was getting a migraine and she couldn't concentrate at all.

"Logan." She called annoyedly. "Tone it down, honey." He ignored her running from the couch to the table. He had run out of words for his song, so he started shouting 'Lalala'. "Logan!" she said pointedly in a warning tone. He still pretended not to listen. Her patience finally ran out and she snapped at him. "Logan!"

He stopped stock still, midway into climbing the chair, looking at her with those big sea green eyes, wide at the sudden yell. He sat down on the floor, hugging one of the chair's legs, looking at her like he had never seen her before. Then his lips started trembling and his eyes filled with water. She sighed tiredly, feeling her anger melt and give way to guilt. He was being a brat, but he was only two and she had never yelled at him before. Of course he'd be upset.

"Oh, Logue…" she said wearily, leaning down and opening her arms to him. He scrambled up and ran wobbly into her hug. Annabeth pulled him up and placed him on her lap, holding him against her chest as he sniffled. "Mom is really busy, honey, and I need you to be a little quieter for a while, okay?" she said softly. He nodded tearfully. She rocked him back and forth, patting his back gently and kissing his hair. "There, there, sweetheart, stop crying now, mom is not mad at you." His tears slowed and he soon quieted down to sniffling. "Okay?" she asked him, moving forward to put him down. His arms flailed and he held on to her shirt, not wanting to let go. She sighed. She couldn't work with him on her lap and she needed to finish those blueprints, she'd need both hands for that. Suddenly an idea struck her. She pulled back a little to look at Logan's eyes. "I have an idea. Why don't you help mom work? I'll finish faster like that." His whole face brightened, and he nodded enthusiastically. She smiled to him. "Okay then." Annabeth pulled a sheet of paper from her sketch book and handed him, along with some crayons. "Draw whatever you think it's pretty and mom will put it in a house, how about it?" Logan grinned happily. She sat him on the unoccupied quarter of the table and left him to his drawings, going back to her blueprints.

The next hour went by much more smoothly. With Logan quiet she could think clearly and finished her pending projects quickly. But she was stuck on inspiration for the museum. She had, naturally, a classical inclination, leaning to the elegant, sophisticated Hellenistic influences of her origins, but this was a modern art museum. They liked crazy and innovative. She could be innovative, but she was having trouble with the crazy. She ran through several different ideas, sketching them roughly, only to realize they were crap and starting over. She dropped the pencil, rubbing her temples frustratedly. She needed a break.

Annabeth looked over at Logan. He had stopped drawing. He was curled up on a ball on top of the table, a blue crayon still clutched tightly in his small chubby hands, his mouth parted in an 'o' as he slept soundly. She smiled softly, heart warming up at the sight. Carefully, she picked him up and he automatically cuddled up to her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. She settled back in the chair, taking a moment to just hold her baby. He grew up so fast. She remembered bringing him home after he was born and he had been a tiny little thing. Percy used to be able to hold him on his hand and forearm, he wouldn't even reach his elbow. She laid her forehead against his head. How was it possible to love a person so much? How had she managed when she hadn't known that kind of love growing up?

He stirred, whining a little. She stood up, rocking him slightly in a gentle hushing motion, carrying him to his bedroom. She gently unclenched his little hands from her shirt and laid him on his bed, tucking the blanket around him and leaning down to kiss his forehead. She sent him one last loving look and went back to the living room.

Annabeth reluctantly went back to work, tapping the pencil on the table annoyedly. She looked at all her previous sketches. Nothing helped. She was getting quickly frustrated again. She ran her eyes over the room, looking for inspirations. Her eyes swept over Logan's drawings. She smiled and picked them up. He hadn't drawn anything specifically, only spirals and swirls all over the sheet.

And it struck her. Just like that. Spirals and swirls. An image started taking shape in her head. She picked up the sketch book and started on a rough draft.

An hour later, it was complete.

And it was good.

Percy arrived home on Wednesday to a seemingly empty house. He dropped his backpack on the entrance and locked the door behind him. He considered calling out for his wife, but it was kind of late and if his son was sleeping, he didn't want to wake him up. He walked forward, trying the kitchen. No one was there, but he took the opportunity to grab something from the fridge. He was walking back to try the bedrooms when something on the table caught his eye.

It was one of Annabeth's designs. It was beautiful, like everything she drew, but different. A good different. There was an APPROVED stamp on the envelope under it. He smiled. He was about to look away when his eyes were drawn to the bottom of the paper.

It was signed Annabeth and Logan Jackson.