Ok, so this is kind of/very different from the book. Percy is the more experienced demigod Annabeth is very new to this. They've gone on different quests than in the books. Poseidon is shown as a villain through Annabeth's eyes because of the feud between Athena and the sea god. They were friends as kids then forced to part because of their parents but not before they fell in love. They didn't tell each other though. Percy realized he was a demigod first then only reunited with Annabeth a few weeks before this story. Rachel is not an Oracle. Luke hasn't revealed himself yet. Grover is no longer dating Juniper but they are still in love. This stemmed from 2 prompts:

Annabeth sees Percy kiss another girl.

What if Grover and Rachel were bisexual.


Annabeth mounted the steps of the Big House and took hold of the heavy door knocker. It was shaped like a pair of angel's wings, and when she let it fall, she could hear the sound echoing like the tolling of a huge bell. A moment later the door was yanked open, and Thalia Grace stood on the threshold, her eyes wide with shock.

"Annabeth?"

Annabeth smiled weakly. "Hi, Thalia."

Thalia leaned against the doorjamb, her expression dismal. "Oh, crap."

"But you're supposed to be in California!" Thalia exclaimed. "Percy said you'd changed your mind about coming. He said you wanted to stay with your father!"

"Percy lied," Annabeth said flatly. "He didn't want me here, so he lied to me about when you were leaving, and then lied to you about me changing my mind. Remember when you told me he never lies? That is so not true."

"He normally never does," said Thalia, who had gone pale.

Thalia's blank expression was starting to annoy Annabeth. "Come on, Thalia. Let me in. I need to see Percy."

"So … you just came here on your own? Did you tell Chiron? Please tell me you told Chiron."

"Not as such—"

"You came here in secret?" Thalia's voice rose and then dropped. She went on, almost in a whisper, "If Percy finds out, he'll freak. Annabeth, you've got to go home."

"No. I'm supposed to be here," Annabeth said, not even sure herself quite where her stubbornness was coming from. "And I need to talk to Percy."

"Now isn't a good time." Thalia looked around anxiously as if hoping there was someone she could appeal to for help in removing Annabeth from the camp. "Please, just go back to San Francisco. Please?"

"I thought you liked me, Thalia." Annabeth went for the guilt.

Thalia bit her lip. She was wearing a white shirt and had her hair pinned up and looked younger than she usually did. Behind her, Annabeth could see the familiar interior of the big house. "I do like you. It's just that Percy—oh gods, you can't come in here like that. If Percy sees you—"

"Oh, so what if he sees me. Thalia, I came here because of my mother—for my mother. Percy may not want me here, but he can't make me stay home. I'm supposed to be here. My mother expected me to do this for her. You'd do it for your father, wouldn't you?"

"Of course I would," Thalia said. "But, Annabeth, Percy has his reasons—"

"Then I'd love to hear what they are." Annabeth ducked under Thalia's arm and into the entryway of the house.

"Annabeth!" Thalia yelped and darted after her, but she was already halfway down the hall. She found a door and threw it open hoping to find him.

The room seemed to be a sort of library, the walls lined with books. It was brightly lit, light streaming through a tall picture window. In the middle of the room stood Percy. He wasn't alone, though—not by a long shot. There was a red-haired girl with him, a girl Annabeth had never seen before, and the two of them were locked together in a passionate embrace


Dizziness washed over Annabeth as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. She tried to back away but stumbled and hit the door with her shoulder. It shut with a bang, and Percy and the girl broke apart.

Annabeth froze. They were both staring at her. She noticed that the girl had red frizzy hair to her shoulders and was extremely pretty. The top buttons of her shirt were undone, showing a strip below wat was deemed appropriate. Annabeth felt as if she were about to throw up.

The girl's hands went to her blouse, quickly doing up the buttons. She didn't look pleased. "Excuse me," she said with a frown. "Who are you?"

Annabeth didn't answer—she was looking at Percy, who was staring at her incredulously. His skin was drained of all color, showing the dark rings around his eyes. He looked at Annabeth as if he were staring down the barrel of a gun.

"Rachel." Percy's voice was without warmth or color. "This is my best friend, Annabeth."

"Oh. Oh." Rachel's face relaxed into a slightly embarrassed smile. "Sorry! What a way to meet you. Hi, I'm Rachel." She advanced on Annabeth, still smiling, her hand out.

I don't think I can touch her, Annabeth thought with a sinking feeling of horror. She looked at Percy, who seemed to read the expression in her eyes; unsmiling, he took Rachel by the shoulders and said something in her ear. She looked surprised, shrugged, and headed for the door without another word.

This left Annabeth alone with Percy. Alone with someone who was still looking at her as if she were his worst nightmare come to life.

"Percy," she said, and took a step toward him.

He backed away from her as if she were coated in something poisonous. "What," he said, "in the name of the gods, Annabeth, are you doing here?"

Despite everything, the harshness of his tone hurt.

"You could at least pretend you were glad to see me. Even a little bit."

"I'm not glad to see you," he said. Some of his color had come back, but the shadows under his eyes were still gray smudges against his skin. Annabeth waited for him to say something else, but he seemed content just to stare at her in undisguised horror. She noticed with a distracted clarity that he was wearing a black sweater that hung off his wrists as if he'd lost weight, and that the nails on his hands were bitten down to the quick. "Not even a little bit."

"This isn't you," she said. "I hate it when you act like this—"

"Oh, you hate it, do you? Well, I'd better stop doing it, then, hadn't I? I mean, you do everything I ask you to do."

"You had no right to do what you did!" she snapped at him, suddenly furious. "Lying to me like that. You had no right—"

"I had every right!" he shouted. She didn't think he'd ever shouted at her before. "I had every right, you stupid, stupid girl. I'm your friend and I—"

"And you what? You own me? You don't own me, whether you're my friend or not!"

The door behind Annabeth flew open. It was Grover, dressed in his Camp Half-blood shirt, his firry legs out for the world to see, his hair in disarray. He wore an incredulous expression on his face. "What in all possible dimensions is going on here?" he said, looking from Percy to Annabeth with amazement. "Are you two trying to kill each other?"

"Not at all," said Percy. As if by magic, Annabeth saw, it had all been wiped away: his rage and his panic, and he was icy calm again. "Annabeth was just leaving."

"Good," Grover said, "because I need to talk to you, Percy."

"Doesn't anyone in this house ever say, 'Hi, nice to see you' anymore?" Annabeth demanded of no one in particular.

It was much easier to guilt Grover than Thalia. "It is good to see you, Annabeth," he said, "except of course for the fact that you're really not supposed to be here. Thalia told me you got here on your own somehow, and I'm impressed—"

"Could you not encourage her?" Percy inquired.

"But I really, really need to talk to Percy about something. Can you give us a few minutes?"

"I need to talk to him too," she said. "About my mother—"

"I don't feel like talking," said Percy, "to either of you, as a matter of fact."

"Yes, you do," Grover said. "You really want to talk to me about this."

"I doubt that," Percy said. He had turned his gaze back to Annabeth. "You came here alone, did you?" he said slowly, as if realizing that the situation was even worse than he'd thought.

There seemed to be no point in lying about it. "Yes," said Annabeth.

Percy blanched. "But it's dangerous. Do you know what's going on right now? What monsters can attack? Coming to camp is one thing, but coming alone? Without telling anyone?"

"Yes," Annabeth said, in a half whisper, "but I know what you're going to say—"

"That if you don't go back to home immediately, you'll find out?"

For a moment Percy was silent, meeting her eyes with his own. The desperation in his expression shocked her. He was the one threatening her, after all, not the other way around.

"Percy," Grover said into the silence, a tinge of panic creeping into his voice. "Haven't you wondered where I've been all day?"

"That's a new hat you're wearing," Percy said, without looking at his friend. "I figure you went shopping. Though why you're so eager to bother me about it, I have no idea."

"I didn't go shopping," Grover said furiously. "I went—"

The door opened again. In a flutter of white, Thalia darted in, shutting the door behind her. She looked at Annabeth and shook her head. "I told you he'd freak out," she said. "Didn't I?"

"Ah, the 'I told you so,'" Percy said. "Always a classy move."

Annabeth looked at him with horror. "How can you joke?" she whispered. "What's wrong with you?"

Thalia looked horrified. "Oh, Annabeth—"

She could hardly bear to look at Percy. "Fine. You win. I should never have come."

Percy was looking at Annabeth, and his eyes were hard as glass. Finally he spoke. "You're right," he said in a choked voice, as if he had to force out the words. "You should never have come. I know I told you it's because it isn't safe for you here, but that wasn't true. The truth is that I don't want you here because you're rash and thoughtless and you'll mess everything up. It's just how you are. You're not careful, Annabeth."

"Mess … everything … up?" Annabeth couldn't get enough air into her lungs for anything but a whisper.

"Oh, Percy," Thalia said sadly, as if he were the one who was hurt. He didn't look at her. His gaze was fixed on Annabeth.

"You always just race ahead without thinking," he said. "You know that, Annabeth. We'd never have ended up holding the sky if it wasn't for you."

"And Nico would be dead! Doesn't that count for anything? Maybe it was rash, but—"

His voice rose. "Maybe?"

"But it's not like every decision I've made was a bad one! You said, after what I did fighting the griffins, you said I'd saved everyone's life—"

All the remaining color in Percy's face went. He said, with a sudden and astounding viciousness, "Shut up, Annabeth, SHUT UP—"

"Griffons?" Grover's gaze danced between them, bewildered. "What about them? Percy—"

"I just told you that to keep you from whining!" Percy shouted, ignoring Grover, ignoring everything but Annabeth. She could feel the force of his sudden anger like a wave threatening to knock her off her feet. "You're a disaster for us, Annabeth! You're a mortal—you'll always be one; you'll never be a proper demigod. You don't know how to think like we do, think about what's best for everyone—all you ever think about is yourself! But there's a war on now, or there will be, and I don't have the time or the inclination to follow around after you, trying to make sure you don't get one of us killed!"

She just stared at him. She couldn't think of a thing to say; he'd never spoken to her like this. She'd never even imagined him speaking to her like this. However angry she'd managed to make him in the past, he'd never spoken to her as if he hated her before.

"Go home, Annabeth," he said. He sounded very tired, as if the effort of telling her how he really felt had drained him. "Go home."

All her plans evaporated—her half-formed hopes, saving her mother—nothing mattered, no words came. She crossed to the door. Grover and Thalia moved to let her pass. Neither of them would look at her; they looked away instead, their expressions shocked and embarrassed. Annabeth knew she probably ought to feel humiliated as well as angry, but she didn't. She just felt dead inside.

She turned at the door and looked back. Percy was staring after her. The light that streamed through the window behind him left his face in shadow; all she could see was the bright bits of sunshine that dusted his dark hair, like shards of broken glass.

"When you told me the first time that Poseidon was your father, I didn't believe it," she said. "Not just because I didn't want it to be true, but because you weren't anything like him. I've never thought you were anything like him. But you are. You are."

She went out of the room, shutting the door behind her.


The moment the door shut behind Annabeth, Percy slumped back against the wall, as if his legs had been cut out from under him. He looked gray with a mixture of horror, shock, and what looked almost like … relief, as if a catastrophe had been narrowly avoided.

"Percy," Grover said, taking a step toward his friend. "Do you really think—"

Percy spoke in a low voice, cutting Grover off. "Get out," he said. "Just get out, both of you."

"So you can do what?" Thalia demanded. "Wreck your life some more? What the hell was that about?"

Percy shook his head. "I sent her home. It was the best thing for her."

"You did a hell of a lot more than send her home. You destroyed her. Did you see her face?"

"It was worth it," said Percy. "You wouldn't understand."

"For her, maybe," Thalia said. "I hope it winds up worth it for you."

Percy turned his face away. "Just … leave me alone, Thalia. Please."

Thalia cast a startled look toward her cousin. Percy never said please. Grover put a hand on her shoulder. "Never mind, Percy," he said, as kindly as he could. "I'm sure she'll be fine."

Percy raised his head and looked at Grover without actually looking at him—he seemed to be staring off at nothing. "No, she won't," he said. "But I knew that. Speaking of which, you might as well tell me what you came in here to tell me. You seemed to think it was pretty important at the time."

Grover took his hand off Thalia's shoulder. "I didn't want to tell you in front of Annabeth—"

Percy's eyes finally focused on Grover. "Didn't want to tell me what in front of Annabeth?"

Grover hesitated. He'd rarely seen Percy so upset, and he could only imagine what effect further unpleasant surprises might have on him. But there was no way to hide this. Percy had to know. "Yesterday," he said, in a low voice, "when I went up to Mount Olympus, I heard them speaking of taking someone. A traitor."

"Maybe what you heard was wrong," Thalia suggested, after a quick look at Percy's ashen face. "Maybe they spoke of a monster."

Grover shook his head. "I went up to the Empire State building this morning. I meant to ask Hestia about it myself, but I couldn't find her. Zeus stormed by and was in a mood so—I can't say why—I ducked behind a corner. I couldn't let him see me. Then I heard him talking to one of the others about the child of Poseidon and how they wanted to question him about his father."

"Are you sure they meant Percy?" Thalia asked, but there was no conviction in her voice. "Maybe …"

"Know anyone else?'"

"Oh," Thalia whispered. "Oh gods." She glanced across the room. "Percy …"

Percy's hands were clenched at his sides. His eyes looked sunken, as if they were pushing back into his skull. In other circumstances Grover would have put a hand on his shoulder, but not now; something about Percy made him hold back. "If it hadn't been me who brought him there," Percy said in a low, measured voice, as if he were reciting something, "maybe they would have just let him go home. Maybe they would have believed—"

"No," Grover said. "No, Percy, it's not your fault. You saved his life."

"Saved him so he could be tortured," said Percy. "Some favor. When Annabeth finds out …" He shook his head blindly. "She'll think I brought him here on purpose."

"She won't think that. You'd have no reason to do a thing like that."

"Perhaps," Percy said, slowly, "but after how I just treated her …"

"No one could ever think you'd do that, Percy," said Thalia. "No one who knows you. No one—"

But Percy didn't wait to find out what else no one would ever think. Instead he turned around and walked over to the window that looked over the camp. He stood there for a moment, the light coming through the window turning the edges of his hair to gold. Then he moved, so quickly Grover didn't have time to react. By the time he saw what was going to happen and darted forward to prevent it, it was already too late.

There was a crash—the sound of shattering—and a sudden spray of broken glass like a shower of jagged stars. Percy looked down at his left hand, the knuckles streaked with scarlet, with a interest as fat red drops of blood collected and splattered down onto the floor at his feet.

Thalia stared from Percy to the hole in the glass, lines radiating out from the empty center, a spiderweb of thin silver cracks. "Oh, Perc," she said, her voice as soft as Grover had ever heard it. "How on earth are we going to explain this to the Chiron?"


Somehow Annabeth made it out of the house. She wasn't sure how—everything was a fast blur of stairs and hallways, and then she was running to the front door and out of it and somehow she was on the front steps, trying to decide whether or not she was going to throw up in their rosebushes.

They were ideally placed for throwing up in, and her stomach was roiling painfully, but the fact that all she'd eaten was some soup was catching up with her. She didn't think there was anything in her stomach to throw up. Instead she made her way down the steps and turned blindly out towards the camp, still running.

Maybe Percy was right. Maybe she was rash and thoughtless. Maybe she never thought about how what she did impacted the people she loved. Bianca's face flashed across her vision, sharp as a photograph.

She stopped and leaned against a pillar. She was in the dining pavilion. Somehow the smells of food seemed reassuring.

"Annabeth!" It was a boy's voice, anxious. Immediately Annabeth thought, Percy. She spun around.

It wasn't Percy. Luke stood in front of her, panting a little as if he'd chased her.

She felt a burst of the same feeling she'd had earlier, recognition, mixed with something she couldn't identify. It wasn't like or dislike—it was a sort of pull, as if something drew her toward this boy she didn't know. Maybe it was just the way he looked. He was beautiful, as beautiful as Percy. Although now that she looked at him more closely, she could see that his resemblance to a fairy tale prince.

"Are you okay?" he said. His voice was soft. "You ran out of the house like …" His voice trailed off as he looked at her. She was still gripping the Pillar as if she needed it to hold her up. "What happened?"

"I had a fight with Percy," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "You know how it is with friends."

"Ah, yes." He sounded almost apologetic.

She only nodded, startled at the bitterness in her own heart.

"You didn't mean to yell at him, I'm sure." He took a step closer to her.

The wind had picked up. It blew strands of his blond hair across his face. He gave a rueful smile. "It must be hard to think about everything that happened recently—it was all so fast."

"Yes," The wind had picked up. It blew strands of his dark hair across his face. He gave a rueful smile. "It must be hard to think about everything that happened—it was all so fast."

"I know," Annabeth said. "It was."

He touched her face lightly. "You must be brave to go with it."

"Luke, you don't know anything about me."

"That's not true." His other hand came up, and now he was cupping her face. His touch was gentle, almost tentative. "I've heard all about you, Annabeth. About how brave and quick and smart you are. Thalia's told me stories, and I've heard rumors, too. And ever since the first one—the first time I heard your name—I've wanted to meet you. I knew you'd be extraordinary."

She laughed shakily. "I hope you're not too disappointed."

"No," he breathed, sliding his fingertips under her chin. "Not at all." He lifted her face to his. She was too surprised to move, even when he leaned toward her and she realized, belatedly, what he was doing: Reflexively she shut her eyes as his lips brushed gently over hers, sending shivers through her. A sudden fierce longing to be held and kissed in a way that would make her forget everything else surged through her. She put her arms up, twining them around his neck, partly to steady herself and partly to draw him closer.

His hair tickled her fingertips, not silky like Percy's but fine and soft, and she shouldn't be thinking about Percy. She pushed back thoughts of him as Luke's fingers traced her cheeks and the line of her jaw. His touch was gentle, despite the calluses on his fingertips. Of course, Percy had the same calluses from fighting; probably all demigods had them—

She clamped down on the thought of Percy, or tried to, but it was no good. She could see him even with her eyes closed—see the sharp angles and planes of a face, see the delicate bones of his hands, the scarred skin of his shoulders—

The fierce longing that had surged up in her so swiftly receded with a sharp recoil that was like an elastic band springing back. She went numb, even as Luke's lips pressed down on hers and his hands moved to cup the back of her neck—she went numb with an icy shock of wrongness. Something was terribly wrong, something even more than her hopeless longing for someone she could never have. This was something else: a sudden jolt of horror, as if she'd been taking a confident step forward and suddenly plunged into a black void.

She gasped and jerked away from Luke with such force that she almost stumbled. If he hadn't been holding her, she would have fallen.

"Annabeth." His eyes were unfocused, his cheeks flushed with a high bright color. "Annabeth, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." Her voice sounded thin to her own ears. "Nothing—it's just, I shouldn't have—I'm not really ready—"

"Did we go too fast? We can take it slower—" He reached for her, and before she could stop herself, she flinched away. He looked stricken. "I'm not going to hurt you, Annabeth."

"I know."

"Did something happen?" His hand came up, stroked her hair back; she bit back the urge to jerk away. "Did Percy—"

"Percy?" Did he know she'd been thinking about Percy; had he been able to tell? And at the same time … "Percy is my friend. Why would you bring him up like that? What do you mean?"

"I just thought—" He shook his head, pain and confusion chasing each other across his features.

His hand was still on her cheek; she reached up and gently but firmly detached it, returning it to his side. "No. Nothing like that. I just—" She hesitated. "It felt wrong."

"Wrong?" The hurt on his face vanished, replaced by disbelief. "Annabeth, we have a connection. You know we do. Since the first second I saw you—"

"Luke, don't—"

"I felt like you were someone I'd always been waiting for. I saw you felt it too. Don't tell me you didn't."

But that hadn't been what she'd felt.

"I didn't," she said.

The anger that rose in his eyes—sudden, dark, uncontrolled—took her by surprise. He caught her wrists in a painful grasp. "That's not true."

She tried to pull away. "Luke—"

"It's not true." The blackness of his eyes seemed to have swallowed up the pupils. His face was like a white mask, stiff and rigid.

"Like," she said as calmly as she could. "You're hurting me."

He let go of her. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry. I thought—"

Well, you thought wrong, Annabeth wanted to say, but she bit the words back. She didn't want to see that look on his face again. "We should go back," she said instead. "It'll be dark soon."

He nodded numbly, seeming as shocked by his outburst as she was. He turned and headed back toward the Big House. Annabeth hesitated a moment, then followed him—there didn't seem to be anything else she could do. She glanced down surreptitiously at her wrists as she fell into step behind him—they were ringed with red where his fingers had gripped her.

"I'm sorry if I implied anything about Percy," Luke said finally as she settled herself in the saddle. "He would never do anything to hurt you. I know it's for your sake that he's been visiting the gods and arguing with Athena—"

It was as if everything in the world ground to a sudden halt. Annabeth could hear her own breath whistling in and out of her ears, saw her hands, frozen like the hands of a statue, lying still against her sides. "What?" she whispered.

Luke turned a surprised face up to hers. "Yes," he said, "I thought—I mean, I was sure you knew all about it. Didn't Percy tell you?"


Grover shut the door of the small attic room behind him and turned to face Percy. His eyes were normally the color of the rich soil beneath them, a solid, sturdy brown, but the color tended to change with his moods. At the moment they were the color of the mud during a thunderstorm. His expression was stormy as well. "Sit," he said to Percy, pointing at a low chair near the gabled window. "I'll get the bandages."

Percy sat. The room he was currently in with Grover at the top of the Big House was small, with two narrow couches in it, one against each wall. Clothes hung from a row of pegs on the wall. There was a single window, letting in faint light—it was getting dark now, and the sky outside the glass was indigo blue. Percy watched as Grover knelt to grab the duffel bag from under his bed and yank it open. He rummaged noisily among the contents before getting to his feet with a box in his hands. Percy recognized it as the box of medical supplies they used sometimes when runes weren't an option—antiseptic, bandages, scissors, and gauze.

"Aren't you going to use nectar?" Percy asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.

"No. You can just—" Grover broke off, flinging the box onto the bed with an inaudible curse. He went to the small sink against the wall and washed his hands with such force that water splashed upward in a fine spray. Percy watched him with a distant curiosity. His hand had begun to burn with a dull and fiery ache.

Grover retrieved the box, pulled a chair up opposite Percy's, and flung himself down onto it. "Give me your hand."

Percy held his hand out. He had to admit it looked pretty bad. All four knuckles were split open like red starbursts. Dried blood clung to his fingers, a flaking red-brown glove.

Grover made a face. "You're an idiot."

"Thanks," Percy said. He watched patiently as Grover bent over his hand with a pair of tweezers and gently nudged at a bit of glass embedded in his skin. "So, why not?"

"Why not what?"

"Why not use nectar or ambrosia?"

"Because." Grover retrieved the blue bottle of antiseptic. "I think it would do you good to feel the pain. You can heal like a mortal. Slow and ugly. Maybe you'll learn something." He splashed the stinging liquid over Percy's cuts. "Although I doubt it."

"I can always do my own healing, you know."

Grover began wrapping a strip of bandages around Percy's hand. "Only if you want me to tell Chiron what really happened to his window, instead of letting him think it was an accident." He jerked a knot in the bandages tight, making Percy wince. "You know, if I'd thought you were going to do this to yourself, I would never have told you anything."

"Yes, you would have." Percy cocked his head to the side. "I didn't realize my attack on the window would upset you quite so much."

"It's just—" Done with the bandaging, Grover looked down at Percy's hand, the hand he was still holding between his. It was a white club of bandages, spotted with blood where Grover's fingers had touched it. "Why do you do these things to yourself? Not just what you did to the window, but the way you talked to Annabeth. What are you punishing yourself for? You can't help how you feel."

Percy's voice was even. "How do I feel?"

"I see how you look at her." Grover's eyes were remote, seeing something just past Percy, something that wasn't there. "And you think you can't have her. Maybe you just never knew what it was like to want something you couldn't have before."

Percy looked at him steadily. "What's between you and Juniper?"

Grover head jerked back. "I don't—there's nothing—"

"I'm not stupid. You went right to Juniper after you talked to the gods, before you talked to me or Thalia or anyone—"

"Because she was the only one who could answer my question, that's why. There isn't anything between us," Grover said—and then, catching the look on Percy's face, added with great reluctance, "anymore. There's nothing between us anymore. Okay?"

"I hope that's not because of me," said Percy.

Grover went white and drew back, as if he were preparing to ward off a blow. "What do you mean?"

"I know how you think you feel about me," Percy said. "You don't, though. You just like me because I'm safe. There's no risk. And then you never have to try to have a real relationship, because you can use me as an excuse." Percy knew he was being cruel, and he barely cared. Hurting people he loved was almost as good as hurting himself when he was in this kind of mood.

"I get it," Grover said tightly. "First Annabeth, then your hand, now me. To hell with you, Percy."

"You don't believe me?" Percy asked. "Fine. Go ahead. Kiss me right now."

Grover stared at him in horror.

"Exactly. Despite my staggering good looks, you actually don't like me that way. And if you're blowing off Juniper, it's not because of me. It's because you're too scared to tell anyone who you really love. Love makes us liars," said Percy. "Aphrodite told me that. So don't judge me for lying about how I feel. You do it too." He stood up. "And now I want you to do it again."

Grover's face was stiff with hurt. "What do you mean?"

"Lie for me," Percy said, taking his jacket down from the wall peg and shrugging it on. "It's sunset. They'll start coming back from Mount Olympus about now. I want you to tell everyone I'm not feeling well and that's why I'm not coming downstairs. Tell them I felt faint and tripped, and that's how the window got broken."

Grover tipped his head back and looked up at Percy squarely. "Fine," he said. "If you tell me where you're really going."

"Out," said Percy. "I'm going to find Annabeth."


Annabeth glanced at Luke then at the Big House. She could see a distant figure exeting it. She watched the figure dart out and let out a gasp. It was Percy. He didn't seem to notice her, instead hurrying toward the cabins with long strides. She forgot about Luke and sprinted after him. I know it's for your sake that he's been visiting the gods and arguing with Athena the thought circled through her head. Over and over again. Arguing with Athena. It was something Percy had offered to do years ago when their parents nearly forced them apart. Mostly her mother. There would only be one thing he would argue with her about. Staying together as friends. A pain so great it threatened to make her collapse, flashed through her. She didn't want to be his friend.

Percy turned as she grew near him. "Annabeth?" His eyes went wide as she collided with him, nearly toppling him to the ground. "Look I'm so sorry for what I said earlier-" She waved away his apologies

"No listen. I get it. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that either." She took a step back from him, composing herself. "Thank you for speaking to my mother. But I don't want to be your friend." His face grew still. Neutral.

Annabeth launched herself at him and then she was somehow in the circle of his arm and he was kissing her.

It was at first almost as if Percy hadn't wanted to kiss her: His mouth was hard on hers, unyielding; then he put both arms around her and pulled her against him. His lips softened. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart, taste the sweetness of apples on his mouth. She wound her hands into his hair, as she'd wanted to do for years. His hair curled around her fingers, it was indeed silky and fine. Her heart was hammering, and there was a rushing sound in her ears, like beating wings—

Percy drew away from her with a muffled exclamation, though his arms were still around her. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to do this," he said, and though his tone was harsh, his hands were inexplicably gentle. "I can't be just your friend anymore."

Annabeth let him turn her, looked up at him. His eyes were very dark, perhaps because it was so dim now that the sun had set, perhaps because of something else. She could see her reflection in each of his dilated pupils, a tiny image of herself inside his eyes. He said, "You can close your eyes, if you like."

She shut her eyelids. She could feel the heaviness of her clothes, cold and itchy against her skin, and the weight of Percy's hands on her shoulders, the only things that were warm. And then he kissed her again.

She felt the brush of his lips, light at first, and her own opened automatically beneath the pressure. Almost against her will she felt herself go fluid and pliant, stretching upward to twine her arms around his neck the way that a sunflower twists toward light. His arms slid around her, his hands knotting in her hair, and the kiss stopped being gentle and became fierce, all in a single moment like tinder flaring into a blaze. Annabeth heard a sound like a sigh rush through her, a wave of noise, but it meant nothing, was lost in the rush of her blood through her veins, the dizzying sense of weightlessness in her body.

Percy's hands moved from her hair, slid down her spine; she felt the hard press of his palms against her shoulder blades. "You should probably," he murmured against her lips, "tell me not to do this."

She said nothing. She didn't want to tell him to stop. She was tired of never letting herself feel what her whole heart wanted her to feel. Whatever the cost.

He pulled away and bent down, his lips against her cheek, brushing it lightly—and still that light touch sent shivers through her nerves, shivers that made her whole body tremble. "If you want me to stop, tell me now," he whispered. When she still said nothing, he brushed his mouth against the hollow of her temple. "Or now." He traced the line of her cheekbone. "Or now." His lips were against hers. "Or—"

But she had reached up and pulled him down to her, and the rest of his words were lost against her mouth. He kissed her gently, carefully, but it wasn't gentleness she wanted, not now, not after all this time, and she knotted her fists in his shirt, pulling him harder against her. He groaned softly, low in his throat, and then his arms circled her, gathering her against him, and they rolled over on the grass, tangled together, still kissing. There were rocks digging into Annabeth's back, and her shoulders ached, but she didn't care. All that existed was Percy; all she felt, hoped, breathed, wanted, and saw was Percy. Nothing else mattered.

Despite her coat, she could feel the heat of him burning through his clothes and hers. She tugged his jacket off, running her hands along his thin t-shirt. Her fingers explored his body as his mouth explored hers: even through the fabric soft skin over lean muscle, scars like thin wires. She supposed they were imperfections, these marks, but they didn't feel that way to her; they were a history, cut into his body: the map of a life of endless war.

He fumbled with the buttons of her coat, his hands shaking. She didn't think she'd ever seen Percy's hands unsteady before. "I'll do it," she said, and reached for the last button herself; as she raised herself up, something cold struck her collarbone, and she gasped in surprise.

"What is it?" Percy froze. "Did I hurt you?"

"No. It was this." She touched the leather necklace around his neck. On it hung multiple beads. It had bumped against her when she'd leaned forward.

"I'm sorry," Percy said. He traced the line of her cheek with his fingertip, a dreamlike intensity in his gaze. "I forgot I was wearing the damn thing."

Sudden cold flooded Annabeth's veins. "Percy," she said, in a low voice. "Percy, what about that girl? Rachel?"

He chuckled, "Don't worry about her."

"But she's so beautiful."

"So are you," said Percy, "and very different from how she is, and she can't help but notice that. She's always wanted to be like you, you know. She hates how she looks."

Annabeth said nothing to this, because she had nothing to say. Beautiful. He'd called her beautiful. Nobody had ever called her that before. She nodded uncertainly.

Percy got up and looked around. "It's getting dark." The sun had already set and there was more black than blue in the sky. The stars sparkled faintly in the remaining light. "We can move this somewhere more comfortable," His eyes gleamed at this, "Or we can continue another time."

Annabeth stuck her tongue out at him although her cheeks flushed slightly at the suggestion. She grabbed her coat and shrugged it back on, Percy doing the same with his. They headed for the dining pavilion hand in hand. Fuck whatever Athena and Poseidon said. Nothing would separate them for long.


They parted at the tables but made sure to sit so they could make eye contact. Annabeth picked at her food not paying attention to much until she felt someone sit next to her. Red hair brushed her face.

"I need to talk to you," Rachel said without preamble.

Surprised, Annabeth could only nod, "All right. Talk."

"Thanks." Rachel pushed her hair back. "It's about Percy—" She broke off, biting her lip. "Look, there's something I need to tell you."

"To tell me?" Annabeth was baffled.

"Yes." Rachel took a deep breath. "Look, what you walked in on, with me and Percy, it wasn't anything. I kissed him. It was—an experiment. And it didn't really work."

Annabeth felt herself blushing. "Look, it's okay."

"Well, you seemed pretty upset at the time." A small smile played around the corners of Rachel's mouth. "And I think I know why."

Annabeth swallowed against the acid taste in her mouth. "You do?"

"Look, he gets around. Everyone knows that he's dated lots of girls. You don't need to worry, though. He's not my type."

"I don't think I've ever heard a girl say that before," said Annabeth. "I thought Percy was the kind of guy who was everyone's type."

"I thought so too," Rachel said slowly, "which is why I kissed him. I was trying to figure out if any guy is my type."

She kissed Percy, Annabeth thought. He didn't kiss her. She kissed him. "Well, what'd you decide?"

Rachel shrugged. "Not sure yet. But, I'm not interested in him." She got up and walked away, leaving Annabeth to stare after her.

Annabeth looked up to meet Percy's eyes. They both smiled.


How do you like it? Please review, follow, and (maybe) favorite! XD

Credit goes to Cassandra Clare and Rick Riordan!

annieherondalelightwood: Thank you so much for reminding me! 3

jasonhunterdarkus2 : Sure, I'll do one with each of them

Quorah-Lee: Ok, should Rachel be an Oracle or not? If you don't reply I'll go with yes because Oracles aren't supposed to be in a relationship so that'll be fun.

Maya Daughter Of Poseidon: of course! I haven't done either one of those but It should be fun I think :)

Guest: I'd be happy to. I'll do it after BOO. Maybe. Possibly. I'm not sure. I'll see where the writing takes me!