Author's Note: This was another prompt from LeoLuver—thanks, dude (in the gender-neutral sense of the word… :P) for your ideas so far; feel free to suggest as many prompts as your heart desires (and that goes for everyone, by the way). About this chapter: I decided to switch up the traditional male/female stereotype about (American) football, because in my family, it's completely switched up. My grandma, my little 13-year-old sister and I (a fifteen-year old girl) are the only ones in the family that actually like and watch football, including my dad, my grandpa, and my two eighteen-year old brothers. And for some reason, I just don't see Percy as one of those guys that are into football, you know? Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and even if you don't, please review! –Emmy


7. Football

"I still don't understand this game."

"How can you not understand—oh! Gods, what hell was that? They so got the first down, anyone can see that!" Annabeth groaned.

Percy shook his head in bewilderment, amused at his girlfriend's reaction. Annabeth had guilt-tripped him into going to a San Francisco 49ers game with her while he was visited her in California, sighing and saying that she didn't get to spend nearly enough time with him these days, with their colleges being on opposite sides of the country and everything. Percy, of course, had fallen for it—no matter that he didn't have a clue about the sport. It was kind of hard to keep up with that kind of thing when you were fighting for your life every other day.

Annabeth, on the other hand, knew everything about it. Not only that, but apparently, she got extremely aggressive about the game. Percy just didn't understand it. It was only football—a bunch of big dumb guys running around a field ramming into each other. She could see exactly the same thing if she went to watch the Ares guys train any day. Seriously, what was the big deal?

"Ugh… That was a really bad call. The officials must be blind," she grumbled, turning to Percy. He just looked at her skeptically, smirking.

She noticed the look, suddenly on the defensive.

"What?"

"Nothing. You just… get really into this, don't you?" he chuckled.

"It's a game of strategy, Percy. It's kind of like war, but less violent—"

"Less violent?" he interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

She ignored him, shooting him a quick glare before continuing.

"There are rules to it, always a goal that needs to achieved. It requires skill and thought-out planning to achieve that goal. There has to be—no! Why would you try to pass it to 24? There was no way he could catch that with that tackle all over him! That had interception written all over it!" she huffed, shaking her head.

He grinned, watching her closely as her gray eyes narrowed in concentration, darting around the field, apparently making several hundred calculations at once. Her blond hair was swept up into a messy ponytail, and she was wearing her red and white Stanford sweatshirt. She had on a pair of old, faded jeans that Percy could have sworn he remembered her wearing when they were sixteen, and like usual, she didn't wear any makeup.

And to Percy, she had never looked better.

She caught him staring at her, and Percy sighed as she took that opportunity to launch back into her rant on the merits of football. He decided that he really didn't need to hear any more.

So instead, he gripped both her shoulders, looked her straight in the eye, and said, "Annabeth? Shut up. Please."

Before she could protest, he kissed her.

As the crowd roared for their team, Annabeth didn't even register the touchdown as she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him in closer.