"Oh my gods, Percy, leave that on!"
Percy Jackson sighed but did what Annabeth wanted. He'd always do what she wanted. He'd also never settle on a radio station until Annabeth punched him or told him to stop. She did the latter that day.
I'm gonna pop some tags
Only go twenty dollars in my pocket
Annabeth frowned. "What the hell, Percy?"
"You're the one that told me to stop." His hand inched toward the knob, but she slapped it away.
I, I, I'm hunting, looking for a comeup
This is fucking awesome
Annabeth started nodding her head to the rhythym and started to hum along as the chorus repeated itself.
"What song was that Perce?"
He grinned at her and pulled over, shifting his seat so he was facing her (Percy had an awesome car. The benefits of being a god's son). "That," he said, leaning his forehead on Annabeth's, "was called Thrift Shop."
Annabeth smiled contendly. "I think I liked Thrift Shop."
He grinned and kissed her.
She broke away and looked at him with wide eyes. "Percy?"
"Yeah?"
"Can we go to a thrift shop?"
Percy Jackson laughed.
Thrift Shop belongs to Macklemore. Go and listen to it! Serena and I got addicted!
