"Percy?" Annabeth tentatively creaked the door open. The smell that hit her was disgusting. Underneath a billion blankets, her boyfriend lay shivering. His eyes were closed, but you could see the dark circles under his eyes. Skin was stretched over his skull, so pale it was almost transparent. Annabeth's shocked grey eyes took in the vomit stained blankets, a crusty, mouldy sandwich on a plate, and a cup of water with . . . Was that a dead fly?

Making her way slowly towards Percy, she nearly tripped over an old picture.

It was Percy. His hands and face was covered in blue paint. Meaty toddler legs were running at the camera, with a painted picture of the sea clutched in his hands.

Annabeth blinked back tears as she realised the glass was cracked.

Putting it down, she walked over to Percy.

Running her hands through his hair, she could literally feel the dirt and greasiness. He moaned under her touch, but stayed passed out.

Annabeth set to work cleaning the blankets. Moving Percy from ontop of a blanket, his girlfriend bundled them up and put them in Sally's washer. After that, she cleaned his food and water, fixed the floor, and viola! Everything was fine.

Percy's eyes fluttered open. He let out a sound between a sob and and a wail. No doubt he was going to be sick. Leaning over, he vomited into the newly-placed bucket.

"Mom?" he muttered, "You're back already?"

"No," Annabeth murmured. "It's Annabeth."

Percy clutched her hand like he was afraid she was going to vanish.

"Annabeth," he said, "Why did you come?"

Annabeth pretended she didn't hear him. "Why didn't you call your mom?" she asked carefully.

"I didn't want to ruin her holiday."

Annabeth smiled. "Well, I'll look after you now," she whispered. "I'll always be here to look after you."

Percy smiled, but his eyes were already closed. When the gentle snores rumbled through the room, Annabeth sent to work by easing him out his sweat-soaked clothes and putting new ones on him. It took about half an hour, but then she woke him up to give him his medicine. Glaring at the plastic bottle in her hands, he point blank refused and turned away as a hacking cough shot through him.

"Seaweed Brain, just swallow it!" she snapped.

Reluctantly he swallowed it, still glaring, and puked it back up all over her.

He smirked. "Wanna cuddle?"

"...Fine."