I just decided to make this little one-shot. It was meant for Vivid Tear's contest, but I couldn't finish it in time. So, go on, read.
I'm dreaming of a white Christmas
Just like the one I used to know
He leaned back in his armchair comfortably. His thick coat formed a barrier between his body and the cold air around him. His warm slippers brushed against the cold wooden floor.
The CD player was one of the only ones left in the world. It sat on his table, feebly playing the Celtic Women version of "White Christmas."
It reminded him of old times, of the time when he was sixteen. One particularly snowy day. A memory flickered before his closed eyes, and a ghost of a smile drifted over his peaceful face.
~flash back~
He grinned as he chased Annabeth around the tall pines, their feet sinking into the soft white snow and creating two sets of footprints, one chasing after the other.
Annabeth ducked behind a large tree, and he swiped at her with his long stick, meant to replace Riptide, since Annabeth was not invincible.
She threw her dagger at him, and he ducked automatically. The dagger sank into the fluffy snow, disappearing from view.
Annabeth, now without a weapon, began to really run, weaving around trees. He caught up to her and tackled her to the ground. She was able to struggle out of his grasp, much to his surprise.
She ran back out of the forest and doubled over, pretending to pant and catch her breath. He ran out, and seeing her, began to slow down.
She leapt at him, completely shocking him. He fell to the ground with her on top of him. She wrested the stick out of his hand and pointed it at his neck.
"I believe I win," she said smugly.
"Fine," he muttered grudgingly, pushing her off of him. She got up and retrieved her Celestial bronze dagger from the snow. When she walked back towards him, she wandered under a tree. He sensed some melting snow on one of the lower branches and willed it to splash Annabeth. Some of the icy water landed on her hair.
"Stupid Seaweed Brain," she muttered, wringing out her blonde hair, which glistened with the reflection of the golden sun.
"Come on!" He suddenly dashed forward and grabbed her hand. "Let's go to the Big House."
He yanked her up the slight slope, both of them slipping and sliding on icy patches. She kept mumbling about stupid Seaweed Brains.
Finally Annabeth wrenched her hand out of his grasp and ran towards the Big House. He raised his eyebrows and raced after her.
When he got up the slope, he saw that Annabeth was standing next to the door. "Be quiet, Seaweed Brain," she whispered, gesturing for him to hurry up. He did.
"Okay. You've never had hot chocolate from the Big House, right?" Without waiting for an answer she continued. "Well, it's, like, the best hot chocolate in the world. So Mr. D is the god of wine, right? For some reason, it also makes him the god of hot chocolate. But it's off-limits to campers. Chiron's and Mr. D's privilege only. That's why everyone steals it."
He nodded as she told him how to steal it. First they had to get up to the roof, through the attic (no creepy Oracle anymore, he thought), and into the second floor bathroom. There, inside the secret hollow wall next to the sink, was a fishing rod, a large pole with a suction cup on the end, a basket, and a small food container, like the kind you put snacks in. They had to hook the basket onto the fishing rod, lower it down to the kitchen, locate the jar of cocoa mix, use the suction cup to suck the jar up, put the jar in the basket, and haul it back up. Then they had to empty some of the cocoa mix into the food container, put the jar back in the basket, lower it down again, put the cocoa mix back, and haul everything back up. Next they had to put the equipment back in the wall, except for the food container, make it back up to the roof, go back to their cabins, and make cocoa. Finally they had to wash and put the food container back into the bathroom (which nobody ever used anyway).
"All without making a noise?" he asked quietly. He and Annabeth sat together near the door.
"Unless you want to pay one of the Hermes kids to do it. And do you know how much they charge? Three drachmas each!" Annabeth said indignantly.
"Well, okay then. Let's go," he whispered. They got up from the icy floor, and Annabeth led him around to the back of the Big House.
There was a rusty ladder that led up to the roof. He decided that it didn't look very safe, and told Annabeth so.
"It is, Seaweed Brain," she muttered. "I'll go first. Gods."
She clambered up the ladder swiftly, her mittened hands protecting her from the cold metal.
He looked dubious, but started up anyway. The icy ladder creaked as he went up, so he tried to distribute his weight equally, without much success. He barely made it to the top before top rung fell off. He and Annabeth watched it fall, crouched on the edge of the slippery roof.
"Are you really that heavy, Seaweed Brain?" She sounded cross. He wisely decided not to say anything.
They scrambled across the shingled roof, slipping and sliding. Annabeth led them in through the attic window.
The attic was as musty as ever, but without the grotesque ex-Oracle. He was glad when they left quickly.
The two of them tiptoed down the stairs, into the second-story bathroom. Annabeth felt along the wall, and found a small button, camouflaged and hidden in the wall. She pressed it.
The wall sprang open noiselessly (obviously the work of Hephaestus kids), revealing the items Annabeth had described. Annabeth worked silently, connecting the fishing rod to the basket and making sure it was secure. He watched her, her hair falling forward as she bent her head to look at the basket.
Finally it satisfied her. They crept out of the bathroom and lowered the basket down, towards the kitchen.
"It's the cupboard above the toaster-oven," she whispered. He gripped the suction cup and pole and opened the cupboard. Then he grabbed onto the hot chocolate and carefully laid it in the basket. Annabeth quickly hauled the basket up.
As soon as it was up, he grabbed the jar and emptied enough to fill the small food container. He closed the cap quickly, and twisted the top of the jar closed. Annabeth once again lowered the basket, and Percy put the jar back.
After putting their equipment away, they snuck back into the attic, where Annabeth slid the container in the inside pocket of her coat. She swung out of the attic and climbed back onto the icy roof, hanging on so she wouldn't fall. He followed gingerly, hoping that he wouldn't break something else.
They made it back onto the roof safely, and crawled to the ladder. Annabeth glared at him for breaking the top rung. The top rung used to be one and a half feet into the ladder, and the next rung one and a half feet below that. Now that the top was broken, they would have to lower themselves down three feet, onto an icy, rusty ladder.
"Um, sorry?" he said sheepishly, trying to stop Annabeth from glaring at him.
Annabeth shot him a look, and said, "I'll go first." She glared at him as she put her hands on the roof and slowly lowered herself down. Just before she stepped on the second rung, he noticed that it was covered in ice.
"No!" he cried, but it was too late. Both of her feet were on the rung, promptly slipped off, her entire body swung downwards, and left her dangling by her fingers on the icy roof.
"Annabeth!" he shouted. He tried to grab her hand. She let go of one hand for a moment and lost her balance quickly, leaving her hanging by one hand.
"Seaweed Brain!" she shouted, and made a grab for him with her free hand. He leaned down to try to grab it.
At that moment, Annabeth's fingers slipped off the icy roof.
He made no hesitation. He jumped down from the roof and prayed to all the gods he knew to let him get under Annabeth and stop her fall in time.
Luckily he was heavier than Annabeth. He fell quickly, and prayed again. He twisted his body in the air and hugged Annabeth tight. The two of them twisted and tumbled in the air as they plummeted towards the freezing snow. He made it so that he was on the bottom and she was on top.
They sank into the freezing snow. All the air was knocked out of him, and his head hit a cold rodlike object. But all he could focus on was that round face in front of him: the grey eyes sparkling, the cheeks pink with cold, the blond hair gleaming in the sun.
It took a moment for both to recover their breaths, and another moment to realize the position that they were in. Annabeth's cheeks flooded, and he felt his own face getting warm.
"Sorry, Seaweed Brain," she muttered, and shoved herself off him.
"It's fine. Are you hurt?" he inquired worriedly, peering into her face.
She laughed. "No! Gods."
Her laughter was so infectious, he couldn't help but laugh along. "That was…"
"…kind of stupid," she finished for him.
"A stupid but heroic act, brought to you again by the great-"
"-Seaweed Brain!" she finished. Both laughed.
"I've still got the cocoa though," she said, reaching in and pulling it out.
"Okay, then. Let's go make some." With that, the two of them got up and made hot chocolate.
Later, they sat side by side on the Big House porch, sipping hot chocolate and laughing about everything, like how a bunch of campers had nicknamed that year "The Year of the Great Prophecy." Annabeth suddenly turned to him.
"You know that stupid stunt off the roof you did?"
"Hey, it saved you from breaking all the bones in your body! Don't complain!"
She put her arms around his neck. "I'm not complaining. I just wanted to say…thank you."
Their faces came close together, and their lips touched.
~end of flashback~
He opened his eyes, his intense green orbs staring peacefully into space. Then his coat rustled against his armchair as he sat up straighter, his eyes now focusing on the table beside him. He reached out a weathered, wrinkled hand, covered in a large mitten, and slowly picked up a ballpoint pen that he had been using most of his life. He gently pulled the cap off, and instantly there was a flash of bronze light, and his sword appeared. It shone brighter than it ever had before, as if happy that its owner had finally uncapped it again.
He turned the sword, admiring its glinting light. Then he set it on the table gently, as if the bronze would break apart after so many years. He reached across to his other arm, pushed up the sleeve, and exposed his skin. He next picked up his sword and slid it against his uncovered skin. It glided along smoothly, its sharp edges not even making a mark on the skin. He smiled and touched the tip of his sword. It shrank back into a ballpoint pen.
He then picked up an old framed photograph of a certain girl, around sixteen years old. Her blond hair glistened in the sun. She was laughing, and her grey eyes shone mischievously. Snow drifted along behind her, blowing everywhere in the wind.
He touched the old, yellowed photograph through the glass. A tear glided silently down his wrinkled cheek. He turned the old frame around and removed the back. On the back of the photo read Annabeth Chase, winter of "The Year of the Great Prophecy."
He slid his eyes closed in remembrance.
It had truly been a white Christmas.
Hope you liked it! Merry Christmas!