A/N: tbh i love sally a lot, and i love to write her, so it's likely you'll get a lot of sort-of linked fics at some point.

Percy has never been one for long, winding lectures, about things that he honestly cares nothing about, probably something to do with his short attention span, so it's definitely comes as a surprise when his mother finds him sprawled out across his bed on his stomach, hand tucked underneath his chin, seemingly listening with a certain determination, to someone speaking on the other side of the room.

She doesn't mean to pry, truly, but her son has been rather unlike himself of the late. This, of course, means that Sally stands, back against the wall and an empty laundry basket pressing into her hip, peeking at him through the few inches of space between the door and the frame.

Not noticing this, of course, Percy remains so engrossed into whatever they were saying, and she wishes she can see his face—and, well, the person who's got his attention so pinpointed on them. It's a girl's voice, familiar but she can't seem to pinpoint it, and since she's pretty sure she didn't see anyone come up with him, and that he's not one to sneak girls up, she'd assume he was talking on the phone.

Except, there is the fact that he has no idea how to work a speaker phone and she's pretty sure their landline is in it's place in the kitchen, plugged up into the wall. Anyway, the voice is too clear, it's like it's an actual person standing there with him.

Sally scrunches her eyebrows, and leans in closer, trying to see more of the whatever's going on, because this can't be her son. She nearly drops her cargo—is that Annabeth?

Stark as night against day, it's Annabeth, even though she's recollects Percy telling her that the girl was in San Francisco with her father for this school year. She has her blond hair piled up on her head, a few stray curls framing her face, and is sitting on something, maybe on his desk chair that he rarely uses, the older woman isn't certain, because she can't really see anything beneath her crisscrossed legs. It's kinda blurry, though, and Sally realizes that she isn't really there. It's like an image, whatever he called them—Iris messages?

"You know, Percy, it's really amazing." She talks with her hands, something that the brunette had picked up on when they met a few years ago. "Historically speaking, the Roman empire conquered all of their surrounding neighbors, including us."

Annabeth continues to talk, that glint in her eye that definitely shows that she's a daughter of the wisdom goddess. A similar expression has made its way on her son's face, though it's slightly different,

He nods, smiling. Gods, does Sally know that look.

That's the look of someone so deeply entrenched with another, it's that look of someone who's so far-gone. Maybe she should be protective of this—after all, he's likely to be her only child—but she can't bring herself to be so.

Maybe it's because the girl he's fallen for—even though he most definitely doesn't have a clue—is Annabeth. She's his best friend, his right hand. Sally has a sort of debt to her, this gratitude because she's saved him so many times, and she doubts that the sentiment isn't equally returned.

"Don't act so bored," Annabeth chides, a small grin falling upon her lips.

The boy on the bed shakes his head vehemently. "Nah, it's actually somewhat interesting."

"Well," she begins, and she seems reluctant. "You should probably get some sleep. Big test tomorrow and all."

Percy shrugs. "It can wait. It's not like I'm going to pass it or anything."

Both she, and the woman standing at the door, purse their lips, in sort of unison. Sally didn't like hearing him so defeated, and apparently, Annabeth didn't either.

"Now stop that. You've got cell structure down," she assures. "It's almost nine here, and so it's around twelve for you guys. Can you just, for once, take this seriously."

Percy doesn't seem to take it to heart, but his head slowly bobs up and down. "I was meaning to ask you, about winter break—"

That, of course, is the moment Sally chooses to drop her basket, and it clatters against the door. Percy twists to look at her so quickly, she's pretty sure her face is flushed.

"Oh, don't mind me," she says, normally, bending down to collect it. "So, winter break? Are you planning on coming for Christmas?"

She can't help but sound hopeful, and Annabeth laughs.

"Were you listening the whole time?" Percy asks indignantly, his cheeks tinged scarlet, similarly to his mother's.

Sally bites her lip. "Just the last bit."

"Yeah, I was thinking about it. I'd need to catch a flight, though, if you guys'd be willing to pick me up from the airport." Annabeth says, her smile widening. "I think the family's going to some ski lodge until New Years."

"And you can't ski." Percy teases.

She narrow her eyes. "Of course I can."

"Then why haven't I ever heard of you hitting the slopes."

"It's not you have either."

"Either!"

They banter on like this for a few minutes, like verbal tennis, and it's captivating to watch. Then, Sally feels like she's infringing on some upspoken territory, so she bids farewell and sets down the basket—the whole reason she's here.

Hovering in the doorway, she asks, "Christmas, then?"

Annabeth's ever encompassing grin—it's probably contagious—is her response, and as Sally moves down the hallway to her own bedroom, shared with her fiance, she hears bubbles of laughter coming from behind the closed door.