Sleep Chapter 1: Sleep Tonight, a percy jackson and the olympians fanfic

Sleep Tonight

I was all white-washed and woven and there by your side,
I was always going to fall asleep early tonight.
Hell, nobody falls, not when my hand is laid on my heart.
At least now when I'm sleeping, I still feel like I'm doing my part.
- 'Sleep Tonight', The Maccabees

They had been back for two months. Well, technically they had only been back in New York City for six weeks – back at school for five weeks – but two months ago they came back from the war, and that felt to her like an event worth marking. It was also their two month anniversary.

Sally and Paul were out and they could have stayed home but Annabeth asked Percy to take her out. Nothing special, just pizza, but they liked it that way; anything to simulate normalcy. They sat on opposite sides of a small, round table so Annabeth was able to really watch his face during the meal. And while he laughed at all the right points in the conversation and smiled when she kissed his knuckles to thank him for a lovely date, the smile was tight and the laugh was fake.

Annabeth had denied her feelings for four years, she thought, she could deny his obvious forced joy. At least until they stood in the living room of the Jacksons' apartment. There she asked him, quietly, gently, why he seemed so down, and he let loose the force of the ocean.

Was it his fault the anniversary of their relationship fell on the same day, every month, every year, as the anniversary of their friends' deaths? No. He did not instigate a war against the gods and he most certainly did not instigate a kiss in the dining pavilion with a blue-frosted cupcake. And were they supposed to do this every year, laugh it up in a phony Italian restaurant, eating sauce the colour of Silena Beauregard's mangled body? Make light of the fact that people were killed – no – slaughtered? How could Annabeth enjoy life at all anymore, how dare she plan dates and have a good time when kids had died and blood was on their hands?

At this point, Percy stretched out his hands, and Annabeth saw them tremble, and so did he. Tucking them under his arms, Percy sat down hard on the coffee table and let out a sob.

With three short steps Annabeth reached him. She stood over him for a minute before stooping down to kiss the top of his head.

With that Percy sobbed again and reached out for her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his face into her soft sweater. With one hand Annabeth held his head to her stomach and with the other she pushed his hair back from his face, over and over.

She soothed him until his tears were spent and his breathing was more controlled. Then she lifted his head from her stomach and wiped his face with her sleeve. He blushed and looked away, embarrassed, a sixteen-year-old supposed hero who had just yelled at and cried all over his hot girlfriend. She took his face in her hands, forcing him to make eye contact. Her grey eyes, usually hard as slate, were warm and understanding and forgiving.

"Let's go to bed," she said.

They slept in sweatpants, Percy's arms around her, his head on her chest. Hearing her heartbeat helped him feel grateful instead of guilty. With all his energy spent from yelling, Percy fell asleep right away. Annabeth stared at the boy who had led an army sleeping peacefully and she felt grateful too.