disclaimer: disclaimed
notes: perachel. au.
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title: despondent winter dreams
summary: of course, she didn't deny that he was attractive physically, but he had the brain cells of a koala and no appreciation for the arts— a deal reamer for her.
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Rachel Elizabeth Dare was an artist. She was born to draw, to paint, to play. Art was as much a part of every fibre of her being as being a savvy businessman was in every fibre of her father's— not that comparison pleased her. It was natural, of course, that she was drawn to Goode High. It wasn't specifically geared towards the arts, per say. It was the aura of the school: cheerful, vibrant, and peculiar— a lot like her. It took a lot to keep Rachel put for more than a few months— her muse flickered so— so it was a surprise to her father when, at the dinner table, she announced that she wanted to return for a second year.
To say that this displeased her father was an understatement. To say that he hated Goode High with every fibre of his, and his fortune's, being was even more so. But Rachel was stubborn and convinced her mother, the flighty soul, who absolutely adored her daughter. Her father never went against his wife's whims. It was decided. Rachel would be spending her sophomore year at Goode High.
Of course, she was chosen to represent the arts program— a 'Goode' way to release your inner creativity— at the freshman orientation. It was the first time she saw Percy Jackson— which was odd, because sophomores weren't supposed to be at the freshman orientation. Of course, it wasn't until later that day that she learned that he was transferring from another school.
He was standing in the middle of the hall, looking like he wished he was anywhere but here. Rachel understood perfectly. Not only was he in a school where news spread like wildfire, but he was trapped by those two cheerleaders from homeroom— Kelli and Tama, or whatever. Rachel had no time for cheerleaders or their stupid names. She watched as he tried to push his way past them, and ended up knocking Kelli to the floor. He looked absolutely mortified, and sprinted to the entrance to the gym. Needless to say, the fallen cheerleader was pissed. Rachel laughed, and entered said gym.
She shouldered her way past all the freshman, into her not-so-good seat. She thought it was just fine. She was surprised to find herself sitting next to Percy. She decided that it was as good a time as any to execute her welcome.
"Hey, I'm Rachel."
He looked at me, squinting at the nametag. "Rachel Elizabeth Dare," he said— strangely enough, with pride. She rolled her eyes.
"And you're Percy somebody, the sophomore transfer."
"Jackson. It's Percy Jackson."
"Nice to meet you." She said.
He grunted. Some guy behind them whispered, "Hey! Shut up. The cheerleaders are talking."
After that, Rachel didn't see much of Percy Jackson. They passed each other in the halls, shared a writing class, and got into detention multiple times— at least, he did. His reputation was growing. He had become the official bad boy of Goode High, not because he was one, but because life at Goode was so despondently dull and uninteresting that the students needed to have some sort of disturbance in their lives. Percy, with his track record— he hadn't spent more than a year in a single school, and it wasn't because he moved— was the perfect victim for this.
He didn't help his cause, either. At lunch, he sat alone in the corner. During class, he fell asleep. He broke the nose of a kid who thought that the blue cookie on the empty tray was up for grabs.
It didn't make him any less appealing to the air-headed girls in her class, either. Rachel thought it was stupid, someone liking someone because of a groundless reputation. Of course, she didn't deny that he was attractive physically, but he had the brain cells of a koala and no appreciation for the arts— a deal breaker for Rachel. She remained largely uninterested.
It wasn't until winter break that they actually spoke again. She was on vacation at Hoover Dam, admiring the architecture, when he burst into the lower decks. She sneezed, and he nearly stabbed her with a pen.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry." he expressed profusely.
Rachel glared at him. "Why on earth did you just try to stab me with a pencil?"
"Well," he began sheepishly, "I'm here with my cousins and some friends, and we're playing hide and seek."
"And that gives you grounds to stab me with a pen?"
"Well...you lose if you get written on."
"What? That's a stupid version of hide and seek."
"Sorry. I'm Percy, Perc—" he looked down the corridor, and was off like a shot, running from the figure at the end of the corridor.
Rachel stared after him disbelievingly, wondering exactly how dim-witted and forgetful a kid could get.
It was January seventh, the first day after winter break. She was walking down the halls, trying to remember if Writing was in room seven or room eleven. The door to seven looked right, but the lockers were on the wrong side. The lockers by eleven were on the right side, but the window was tainted blue. While she was musing this over, a hand reached out and grabbed her.
"You go here?" hissed Percy Jackson himself.
Rachel stared at him. "You're kidding, right? I introduced myself at your orientation. How could you forget that?"
"Lots of people introduced themselves at my orientation. And our writing class is in room forty-two." He dragged her through the crowds.
"Well, even if you didn't remember, you didn't have to drag me to class."
"You were standing in front of five like a gnu in Antarctica."
"Colorful expression. And it was seven."
He looked at her oddly. She glared at him in annoyance. They made it to writing class on time, and Rachel was sure he would make her thank him.
"Well, we'd better go in before we're late."
They talked often after that, and went so far as to sit with him a lunch— this caused no end of suggestive rumors. On Saturday, March fourth, he approached her after class, looking mildly uncomfortable.
"Hey, uh, Rachel..."
"Cat got your tongue?"
"Haha," he laughed, sarcastically. "I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go watch a movie or something?"
"Sure," she deadpanned. Giving away her real emotions— joy— would alert him to her feelings. Well, maybe. The idiot would probably miss it entirely.
It wasn't a particularly good movie, and it wasn't a particularly nice theatre. It really didn't matter to her. It was a nice time, and she was happy. The only good times she'd ever had before were when she was painting. They laughed, and talked, and walked back to her house, grinning and throwing snow at each other. It wasn't the wet, grey snow that hurts, or the sparkling, white snow that never compacts. It was perfect for snowballs, and perfect for the day.
Maybe he was an idiot, and maybe he had no appreciation whatsoever for the arts, but that doesn't stop her from realizing that this has been the best winter she's ever had.
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Percabeth seems to overrun the archives nowadays. Eh. I think that, in an AU situation, Percy would choose Rachel over Annabeth. My logic? I'd tell you, but I'm lazy.