Full Summary: Annabeth Chase, an impassive, though quite impressive woman who works underneath the tight-lipped rule of her father in the Athenian Owl Industries, is engaged to Percy Jackson, heir to Poseidon's Trident Industries, and notorious member of the Los Angelos Mafia, high in their ranks. There's no love in their relationship: one's too formal, and the other is too much of a dick. Annabeth perceives him to be a whore, though she secretly finds him quite entertaining and spirited, and Percy finds her to be a prude, though annoying her has it's benefits. These haters can't help but become physically attracted to one another, and before long, they both find themselves unable to stop touching the other. But before long, both Annabeth's and Percy's pasts catch up to them. Mysteries are uncovered, ties are severed, and maybe, just maybe, love can set into the equation. Or maybe lust will dominate.
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OF BEING CIVILIZED AND UNCIVILIZED
[ unedited ]
[ 5.14.17]
[ 8,480 words ]
PERCY JUST COULDN'T BELIEVE IT. HE COULD NOT, he would not - it was all the same thing, really. There was no difference to anything anymore - their relation all being that he was surprised by every single damn thing.
First, his father had come fifteen minutes early, when Percy had, admittedly, still been in that embarrassing stupor, staring into space, thinking about something he couldn't remember right now because what was happening in front of his eyes made it kind of hard to remember anything. His father had stared at him for lord-knew-how-long, before Percy's instincts had kicked in, and he realized that someone had been watching him. Then, he had watched quite stupidly as his father took note of his burning cheeks - had they still been burning? He would deny that he had been blushing in the first place anyway - and raised an eyebrow at him. Then, Annabeth had come into the room, all prepared and ready, and had politely talked to Poseidon, without uttering a word at Percy himself, or even sparing him a glance, whereas he stared at her, dumbfounded that she could be so casual after that encounter.
Afterwards, they had piled into his father's car - he wasn't sure whether to be grateful or not about how he and Annabeth had sat separately - and had been dropped off at least ten minutes away from Annabeth's house - or so she had murmured under her breath - and nineteen minutes away from his own house - he couldn't tell whether they lived close or not, and he also didn't know why he was wondering about whether they lived close or not. That had nothing to do with nothing.
There were living together anyway, in the now. Why would they have to know about the other's former homes? Especially since Percy's former home had been hell.
So Percy had walked off towards his apartment - it was quite cozy, and didn't contain many of the luxuries that he was used to - and found that two of his former girlfriends - note the word 'former' - had somehow gotten in and were lounging here and there, one on his bed, lazily scanning her phone, and the other on his sofa, watching something scandalous on TV. The both of them had snapped to attention when he had come in, and he found that they had just been looking for a good time - he wasn't sure they knew what the term 'breaking up' meant, so he had found himself throwing them out - Annabeth entering his mind for a split second before he removed the thought away - which had gotten his poor, poor cheeks quite a few slap marks, and he was quite sure they were burning red again - this time from pain.
He couldn't understand girls sometimes. They had said they wanted to have a good time - and how did that equal a hearty slap when he rejected it?
And after that, he had packed all his things up, and had called for one of the people his father had hired to take his stuff - there had been a change of plans, apparently - gave them the address, waited till they had come, watched them take his things, warned them that not a thing was to be touched - he had made sure there was nothing dangerous there anyway; he didn't keep any of his weapons and whatnot in his apartment, so that was one worry gone.
And with the words, two streets, and three left turns, one right turn, and then another left away from here, ringing in his head, he had gone back to the spot he and Annabeth had been dropped off in.
He had waited there for quite a long time - so long, in fact, that he had lost count. He had given up the practice of constantly checking on his phone to see how long had passed, when half an hour had gone by and then, he had just stood, looking out onto the streets, and at the cars whizzing by, as he waited stiffly for his wife to meet him where she was supposed to.
She came forty-seven minutes later - maybe he had sorta kept on keeping track of the time at some point - her hair swinging wildly behind her, her grey eyes flashing defiantly, but her gait slow and steady. It felt as if years had passed in the range of time it took from when Annabeth had first come into his view, and when she had reached him. He looked her down coldly, fixing the icy look on his face that he should have fixed from the start, and Annabeth surveyed him just as coolly.
"You're late," he had murmured quietly and icily, and she had raised an eyebrow, before turning to stand beside him and survey the street beside him.
"I wasn't aware there was a time limit to how long we could take," she had murmured back just as quietly. And since then, he had tuned she and her, and everything related to her, and the world itself out, putting himself into one of his episodes where he curled into himself and did not come out. When he was in one of his episodes, he acted like how a gangster was supposed to act like: brooding, cold, and impassive.
Nothing was in focus as he had absentmindedly led them towards where his father had directed him to take her: the empty alley. His father's directions rang blankly in his mind, but he didn't understand why exactly his father had him show Annabeth that place.
The area in question used to be a conference house - no, not a conference room, but a conference house - but had been broken down years ago. The Jackson family had not owned it, but could make use of it whenever they had wanted. Percy remembered that much. So when he had led Annabeth and himself there - on foot, after having tracked the location on his phone - he had found an alley with two people.
An alley with two people that were heavily armed, in gear, and had murderous tints to their gazes, as they looked Annabeth up and down like a piece of meat they were about to consume, and then at Percy, disinterest flicking in their eyes. One of them had a shaved head, and bulging muscles - someone Percy could take down easily. Brutes like him - they focused on strength, and strength he - come to think of it, Percy might not be able to take him down that easily. The other man was clothed in black from head to toe, revealing none of himself, but his eyes. His eyes were pits, black, endless pits, where emptiness lay.
One of them drew a knife, a long knife, with a pointed edge. Subconsciously, Percy's left arm had shot out to grasp onto Annabeth's wrist, and his right hand started fumbling with himself, looking for something to fight back with. He had pasted a cool expression on his voice, but it had been too late - the strangers had already seen the panic. Percy's first priority was to keep Annabeth away from harm - and that would mean having to wrestle them both.
In his mind, Annabeth had been a damsel in distress, cowering, shaking, her grey eyes glowing. He didn't take it to be pathetic - though he did, slightly, because she was supposed to join the Mafia soon, and shouldn't she at least act? - but he waved that away, and focused, his mind thinking a mile a minute. But his thoughts on Annabeth did lower the slightest bit. Shouldn't she have been able to protect herself? Most women were weak, relying on men to save them - and Percy found himself thinking that Annabeth should not have been one of those women, but here she was, doing - was she shaking? He couldn't tell. The only hold on her he had was her wrist, and that was stable.
But they stood still in place.
The man with a shaved head - who turned out to be the one who had taken out that knife - took another step forward, his eyes focusing Annabeth, who was his wife, not the bald man's. He shouldn't have been able to look at her like that.
"What a pretty little cupcake you are," the man with the shaved head purred, and Percy found his fumbling becoming worse. He had nothing on himseld that could act as as weapon - dammit, why wasn't there any fucking weapon?
And that was when Percy was left gaping, slack-jawed, now in the present, when Annabeth shot into action, her left hand - the one Percy wasn't holding - drifting to her leg for a moment, before striking outright, a flash of a clothed arm and silver.
The next few moments were a blur. The knife did not move in slow action, and time did not slow - the tiny little knife that Annabeth had gotten from seemingly nowhere, with a wooden, carved hilt, was a blur in the air, and smacked right into those bulging muscles of the intruder, in his left arm, where his arteries were the biggest.
Tiny as it was, it seemed to be at least three or four inches tall, though not very thick. The knife was thrown with such force, and shocking precision, and Percy was sure it had hit at least a vein, or had at least severed an artery.
For a few moments, nothing happened. The bald man stared at the knife that had buried itself in his left arm, and did nothing about it. Blood spilled from the wound, the portions growing bigger and bigger as the moments passed. But the bald man - it seemed he was stupid as well. Instead of taking the knife out, which probably would have given him more time to survive, and doing something about the wound, he roared, and rushed towards Annabeth.
Annabeth took a defensive stance - in front of Percy, her right hand still in Percy's grasp. She shook it without looking at him, probably hoping to make him let go, but he held on tighter. He also didn't make her move away from the protective stance she was taking in front of him - he knew he was a lost cause at the moment, which was pathetic.
The man - the bald man, mind you - stopped running, for a moment, and took another step, his eyes focused on Annabeth. He stopped, and for a moment, it looked like he was listening to something, and he tilted his head, nodding. Then, he backtracked, nodded at the man in black - who had, so far, not done anything about anything - and without looking back, even once, they both ran away into the ever darkening horizon. They faded into the distance, and soon, it was just Annabeth and Percy himself, standing in the empty alley, Percy still holding on to her wrist.
Something wet hit his cheeks, and for a moment, Percy wondered whether he was crying, before looking up at the sky. The sky had darkened considerably, and had turned into a gloomy, lifeless day, the morning sunshine forgotten. A light drizzle had started, and now, raindrops splattered onto Percy's face as he angled his face back to Annabeth, who turned towards him.
Her own face was wet, but he knew that she wasn't crying. He didn't think she could cry. She was a strong woman - and his earlier thoughts of Annabeth and her weakness were forgotten. They stared at eachother.
"Where's you get that?" His voice shook, and he didn't try to cover it up. He didn't need to say 'knife' for her to figure out what she was talking about.
"I - he didn't take the knife out. His left arm has more arteries than his right arm, and if he doesn't take it out, he's going to die. From blood loss." Her voice had taken on a factual tone, one that suited her, but like him, her voice shook. Unlike him, she tried to hide it.
They stared at eachother for lord knew how long.
The rain started to take on a more vicious turn, and instead of drizzling, it was pouring now. Not buckets - not yet, but it seemed as if it would rain buckets soon. Percy noted quietly how Annabeth had not answered his question.
"Where'd you get the knife from, Chase?" His voice hardened, the shaking still there, and Annabeth, despite having gone through the last few moments, and having other things to think about, more pressing things to think about, raised an eyebrow at the new name he was talking to her by.
"I didn't know we were on such good terms enough to go by our last names." Her voice wobbled, her eyes turning impassive, keeping away emotion, hiding away emotion, and Percy had the urge to shake her. And shake her he did, still holding her by her wrist.
"Where'd you get the knife from, Chase?" Her face hardened, and her grey eyes turned stone cold. She wrenched her wrist from his grasp, and her left hand shot out to grasp the hand that had been shaking her. Her fingernails dug in, making tiny little crescents on his arm. Her head inched nearer to his.
"You can't threaten me, Jackson. You can't make me answer." Her eyes turned dangerous, much like how the clouds overhead were, and he sighed audibly.
"I just want to know where the knife came from."
"I took it from my leg. I had one buried there, behind my clothing."
"And who gave it to you?" He pressed on, leaning his own face a little bit towards hers. Her lips pressed together into a thin line, and her fingernails dug in even more. He winced, just barely, but didn't take his hand away from his grasp. He liked the human contact, a nice change from the cold rain pouring on them, though painful.
"Someone gave it to me, when I went to pack my things." She paused, and looked up at the sky. "We should go home. Call a taxi." She peered down the empty street.
Percy didn't mention that hey were supposed to have called his father, and told him to pick them up. He didn't mention his father at all. He had brought them here, at this very address. His goal was very much clear.
He didn't know where his answer came from; it just poured out, like the rain. "When we get home, we dry off, and we can discuss our cover story. We'll stay as late as we have to, but we will make the cover story tonight. We sign the papers tonight as well."
She stared at him, unblinking, unseeing. Then, she nodded, but slowly.
"This never happened." She said firmly. He leaned closer to her, until his nose was touching her's, and her eyes looked back at him steadily. If anyone was watching, they'd think that they were going for an embrace, but Annabeth knew otherwise. Nevertheless, the hitch in her breath did not go unnoticed, and Percy, staring into her grey orbs, couldn't help but stop breathing for a moment either. His eyes steady, he leaned closer until his lips just barely touched her cheek - her cheek, not her lips - and whispered, "The extent of what my father will do to make us do what he wants, will go much farther than that. Be careful around him, Chase." He leaned in a bit closer, his lips almost fully in contact with her cheek, giving the impression that they were embracing to outsiders, and they stayed like that for a few, long moments. Percy surprised himself by finding himself strangely content with this moment.
Melancholy swirled in his heart, and he let the ice come, to overtake it.
When they had stood together long enough, Annabeth moved. Her fingernails, still surprisingly digging into his hand, let go, and she pulled him to her side, before coiling her right hand around his left. The sparks came up again at her touch, and Percy couldn't tell whether it was the cold - or desire, in the middle of an alley.
They both silently stared out into the street, and when Percy found his thoughts too attracted to the feeling of her hand, he focused on taking his phone out of his pocket, and dialing one of his father's drivers.
After all, they weren't holding hands because they wanted to. They were holding hands, because his father was watching from somewhere, and someone else might have been watching from somewhere else, and they needed to put up a cover. Their hands were coiled together loosely, but not entwined.
Percy got the feeling that if their fingers were entwined, then their hand-holding would mean something entirely different. And he wasn't sure what to think of that. He also wasn't sure what to think of the slightly warm feeling he got when he thought about it. He also wasn't sure what to think of the tingles her hand gave him.
He wasn't sure about to what to think about anything anymore.
ONE OF HIS FATHER'S DRIVERS HAD TAKEN THEM HOME, thankfully without asking any questions - Percy got the feeling that many of his father's drivers were used to getting calls in the most unlikeliest of places - and both Percy and Annabeth had taken long, hot showers, washing off the coldness the rain had left behind, the coldness of what had happened, and the feeling of physical contact from the other, before they both settled in the living room, sitting across from eachother. Percy inhabited the loveseat, his bare feet hanging from the arm, his head resting idly on the other, and Annabeth, across from him, was seated on the sofa that Posiedon had seated himself in the morning, her legs crisscrossed perfectly, her hair hanging in a perfectly made bun - Percy resisted the urge to sift his hands through them and get rid of the damned perfect bun - her grey eyes staring lifelessly at the TV, her gaze angled away from him.
They had settled in, one after the other, and to avoid any awkwardness - or maybe she just wanted to - Annabeth had turned on the TV.
The reporter was droning on dully about the weather, and Percy watched, propping his head on his arm on the arm of the chair, as Annabeth changed the channel, again and again and again, nothing interesting enough for her.
She stopped at a slightly grizzly picture of them coming out of the Olive Garden, rain pounding on their faces, their arms hooked together - his father had insisted - their faces leaning close, their mouths opened, giving the impression that they had been talking.
They hadn't been talking. They had been pretending to talk.
Poseidon and Fredrick were nowhere to be seen, but Percy was sure they had been just a few yards in front of them. The picture was taken from the side, but it was hard to tell what was happening exactly, whatwith the rain pouring around them. But Annabeth's blonde hair, pulled back, revealing those high cheekbones were not to be mistaken, and Percy himself, with his black hair and chiseled self, was not to be mistaken either.
They'd been caught already, and it was only - how long had it been since they had met? Percy counted out the days. He had found out on Tuesday, the twenty-fourth of April - it still seemed like it was yesterday, which wasn't very far from the truth really. They had been wed on Wednesday, the twenty-fifth, and now - now it was Thursday, the twenty sixth. Oh. So it was their second day together now. They were caught, and it was just their second day together.
"That was quite early, and quite unexpected. Question: why weren't we wearing raincoats?" Percy drawled quietly, still staring at the picture of them together, somewhat mesmerized by the grainy picture.
"It was bound to happen sometime, Jackson." Her voice was quiet, and shooting a sideways look at her, he found her staring at the screen, her eyes dull. Hopeless.
"And the raincoats?"
"I don't know." He was surprised to hear that she seemed angry. "Why weren't you wearing a raincoat?"
"You tell me, baby." He flashed her an unconvincing smile, his thoughts moving into another path. "Another question: how did they get such a clear picture when it was raining -" She shot him an unimpressed look here. " - and when it was so dark? It was late at night when we came back."
"It was just a few hours after evening, Jackson."
"All the same."
"How am I supposed to know?" Her voice rose, and he pulled himself up, sitting upright, surprised. Instinct told him to defend himself, because a loud voice meant something bad was coming, but he refused to be pathetic. He had been pathetic and weak enough for a day.
"I was just making conversation, Chase." He wanted to use the term 'blondie'. It would diffuse some of the tension swirling in the air, and he knew it. But he wanted to keep on fighting, and somehow, the fact that he had been weak, had been pathetic, increased that anger swirling in him, making it grow bigger and bigger by the moment, a bomb about to explode.
It was her fault. It was all her fault. He had been pathetic and weak-minded, and weak in general and he hadn't even been able to defend himself and why the fuck didn't he just - just go on and fight the man hand-to-hand? He knew he wasn't skinny and shit; he was muscular and had been training for years and years, yet he had been the one standing behind her like a weak, pathetic, coward unable to do anything, not wanting to do anything, and he could've fought, he could've fought hand-to-hand, but he didn't, and he could've used his body to fight but he didn't, and it was all her fucking fault.
"Well, you're attempts at making conversation are not appreciated, Jackson!" Her voice rang out, clear as day, hard as rock, and his anger - his anger at her and himself and everything - shot up a notch.
"I don't give a fuck if they weren't appreciated, Chase!" This wasn't like him. This wasn't like him at all. To pick a fight with a girl, and to raise his voice - this wasn't like him at all. But it was her fault, it was all her fucking fault and - and -
"I don't care if you don't give a fuck! You know what I do care about?" Her body tensed, a predator coiling into himself, just about to leap, and Percy stiffened, his body preparing for a fight.
"No, no I don't give a damn about what you - "
"Why didn't you fight, you coward? Why didn't you fight?" He had been asking himself the same goddamn question for lord-knew-how-long. Why hadn't he fought? Why hadn't he fought and why had he been so weak and such a fucking coward?
"I thought we weren't going to talk about - about this. I thought we weren't going to mention this ever again." She scowled back at him, and he felt heat overtake his face. He wasn't blushing, and he wasn't in pain - he was angry. He needed to cool off steam.
'Well, you thought wrong, didn't - "
"I did, didn't I? And why do you care about this, Chase? Who do you care about this at all? Why are you even mentioning this? What, did you want me to be your knight in shining armor? Save you from the bad, bad villain? What are you, a pathetic, weak, cowardly woman? Scared, like the fucking pathetic person you are, because there wasn't man to save you?" His voice lowered, turning dangerous. "Did you need someone to save you, Chase? Did you think that the dashing, enigmatic Perseus Jackson would save you? And were you - oh, maybe, disappointed? Because you had to save yourself, and the man who was supposed to save you and - "
"No you fucking bastard, you're so fucking full of yourself!" She stood up now, heaving, her grey eyes flashing viciously, her lips pulled into a frightfully straight line. "My problem isn't that you couldn't save me, I am not pathetic. I can save myself perfectly fine! I don't need a damned knight in shining armor, and I most definitely do not - " He shot up from his seat, and opened his mouth to shout back at her, but her voice raised, her grey eyes gleaming with anger. " - do not! I most definitely do not need you, you sick bastard. You're so fucking full of yourself. So full. And if you ever paint me - me, as a weak, pathetic type of woman - you're being sexist right there, let me tell you, your're so full of yourself that you're being sexist and no fucking woman is weak, and whatever you do, you cannot paint me as the weak person, because I am not the weak person, Jackson, and you shouldn't be either!"
"I'm not - "
"No. No, shut up. Listen to me. My problem isn't that you couldn't save me, my problem is that I can't save you. You've been in this organization, killing people - " He flinched, and she didn't stop. " - yeah, killing people, I know Jackson, but then you're encountered by two men whom you easily could have fought, but you stood still, because you panicked, and didn't do anything about it. I don't know whether it was fear or panic or whatever, but I can't save you every time we're encountered by something like this! You kill people for a fucking living, so why couldn't you fight today? You showed them weakness, and whatever the hell is after us knows that you showed some weakness, and that's not acceptable, Jackson, it's not!"
"What are you getting at?" He toned his anger down, and it lowered more and more by the moment. The fact that she wasn't disappointed by the fact that he hadn't been able to save her, somehow helped his greatly, and he didn't want to know why. "First you say that you can't save me, and then you say that I showed weakness, and I don't know what you're getting at!" His voice rose at the last word.
She stared at him calculatingly, the anger toning down somewhat, and it unnerved him, how it seemed like she was stripping him of every single last barrier, every single last brick wall, finding his weak spots, his weaknesses, and -
"Oh." Her grey eyes met his own eyes directly. "Oh. You're disappointed in yourself, and you're taking it out on me."
He didn't say anything. Her statement just seemed so right, and it hit him right where it hurt, because he realized that it was the truth. He was disappointed in himself.
"I - I guess." For a moment, his anger was let down, revealing a completely open, vulnerable face, and Annabeth saw it, and confusion flickered in her eyes, but by the next moment, Percy had his composure put back in place.
For some reason, when Percy looked up to figure out Annabeth's expression, she looked at him with - with admiration? Whatever she was thinking, she didn't say it out loud, and she didn't offer him any comfort, and he was somewhat glad about that.
Annabeth sat down back into the sofa, leaning back, her body still tense. Percy himself sat back into his seat, this time, his arms resting on the arms of the loveseat, his head leaning back.
A few moments of quiet followed, as they both took control of themselves once more. When Percy completely relaxed, and made sure every single last ounce of anger was gone, replaced by coolness, he looked up at Annabeth, to find her silently staring at the TV screen. He had almost forgotten it was still on.
"What time is it?" Her eyes flickered up, focusing on the golden clock ticking above the TV - there was a clock? He hadn't exactly examined the living room thoroughly - and she turned towards him. " It's six in the evening."
"Wow. That - time flies." She smiled wryly.
"Considering what we went through today, it's expected." "We went through alot today. Including - " He raised his eyebrows suggestively. " - our first fight." His voice was mocking, sounding horrified.
"Hmm." She was watching him, a queer sort of interest flickering in her eyes. "I suppose. You're full of surprises, Jackson."
"Is this where we decide to at least be, I don't know, civilized towards eachother?" She raised an eyebrow, her grey eyes gleaming once again, this time with mischief.
"Nah. I still hate you."
"That is great news. I have an uncivilized wife now." An emotion overtook her face, and he realized something. They weren't officially married. There were still those wretched papers.
"Almost. Almost there, my dearest, uncivilized husband."
"You sound civilized. That isn't possible." He almost cracked a smile at her at his own words.
"Oh, who would've known? I can be civilized!"
"Oh me, you can?" She snorted.
"Don't even, Jackson. You sound horrible. And stop bantering with me. Remember? I hate you." She emphasized those last three words, and Percy didn't doubt the truth of those words.
"Oh, I know. I'm quite aware. And the feeling is mutual, I assure you." He emphasized those last three words with a flourish. "Now, I'm going to go wash off, and do me a favor and get those goddamned papers, will you?" He stood up, and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. She scowled at him, and he rolled his eyes.
"Okay. Okay, make yourself comfortable. I'll go wash myself off and get those papers. Is there anything you'd like me to get you, my dearest wife?"
"Your head on a platter, please. And a drink, if you will." She answered him mockingly.
"But I won't. Guess you won't get a drink then, Blondie." He started out of the living room, and he heard her call, "Get me a drink, you asshole."
"Lazyass." He murmured under his breath.
"I heard that!"
And as he rinsed his face, and got rid of the heat, he wondered what this - this bantering, this playful bantering between himself and Annabeth meant. It meant nothing good, certainly. This was their second night as a married couple. Things were going too fast.
I hate her. I hate her. It was a repeated mantra in his head. I hate her.
There would be nothing between them except hate, and both of them would make sure of that. There could be nothing else. There was no space for anything else. With the life they lived, and with the life they would live after their public wedding, there was no space for anything except hate. There never would be space for anything except hate.
I hate her.
And that was all there was to it.
HE SETTLED HIMSELF ON THE OTHER END OF THE SOFA she was seated on, and settled the papers between them, like a barrier. He supposed it could be considered a barrier - whatwith it being the only thing that kept them from being officially, completely, utterly married. Annabeth picked them up, and sifted through them, her grey eyes scanning them alertly and attentively.
"What I don't understand is that, if our marriage licenses have already been official, then why do we need these papers? What, does your father expect us to sign these unknowingly, without being none the wiser?" He shrugged indifferently.
"The marriage certificate?" She glared up at him, as if he was spouting pure stupidity, but looked thoughtful.
"Maybe. I've never really delved deep into the subject of marriage. A marriage certificate is needed, and so is a licence. We already have the - do we get to see it? It's important that we..." She rambled on, and Percy stared at her as she talked. Her blonde hair was still wet from the shower she had taken, and was strewn all over, but it still glowed. Even in it's wet state, Percy resisted the urge to run his hands through them. He remembered waking up in the morning with those strands tickling him, and her soft, soft skin -
"Jackson." She barked. He smirked at her.
"Blondie. Chase. I've come up with so many nicknames for you. And the only thing you can come up with is my last name, and the ever-so-often curse words." She stared at him for a long moment,
"First of all, those are only two names. What do you mean by, and I quote 'so many nicknames?' Second of all, what am I talking about, and what are you talking about?"
"Potatoes and potahtoes."
"Focus, Jackson!" He waved his hand in the air in dismissal.
"I'll pass." Her mouth stretched out into a thin line.
"That wasn't a suggestion up for the taking. That was a command."
"You're reading it. Isn't that enough?" She raised an eyebrow. Percy noted that she raised her eyebrows very often.
"How sweet. Are you saying that you trust me?" He'd never thought of that, dammit. Grumbling, he snatched a piece of paper from her hands, and somehow ended up touching her pinky. Sparks flew, and Percy's gaze clashed with Annabeth's.
For a moment, all there was, was those grey, silver, charming grey eyes, and then those - and those flashing grey eyes that were tearing away from his. Percy kept his gaze on hers for a moment, before looking away. He was being very vulnerable today, he realized. And it was all because of this - this blondie, right here.
"Am I, sweetheart?"
"Really, Jackson? Really?" Her eyebrows drew together, and her forehead wrinkled, giving him the impression that she was either confused or surprised. He went for her being confused, because her being surprised - nah, it didn't really go.
"Yes, really." He winked at her.
"Stop avoiding the subject." She glared at him.
"Who says I'm avoiding the subject?" He settled the piece of paper he had taken from her on his crossed legs, and then crossed his arms underneath his head lazily, stretching, and for a moment, her gaze dragged down to his chest. It was a minuscule action, and considering that he didn't really note the tiniest of things down unless he was encountering a potential threat, finding that very minuscule action was quite the accomplishment. So when she looked back up at him, she was met with a shit-eating grin.
"Are you checking me out, Chase?"She sighed, and put the papers in her hand down, before putting her face in her hands. He peered in between her fingers, but her eyes were closed, and her face was like stone, and it was hard to tell what she was feeling. At least he could rule out crying.
"Chase?"
Silence.
"Should I take that as a yes then?"
More silence.
"Chaseeeee."
He realized that he hated it when she was silent.
"Oh wifeyyyy.." As quick as a panther that had pounced after a few quiet moments of being a solid rock, she moved, and in a flash, she was on him, knocking him down, her grey eyes flashing with irritation. She locked one leg in between his legs, and she settled herself almost comfortably on his chest, propping one hand on his shoulder, and settling her chin on the palm of that hand. His shoulder started to hurt, and he stared at her, wondering if she was going to seduce him into being serious. She ran one hand over the top half of his shirt, and stopped right where his shirt touched his bare skin, her middle finger - oh what a surprise - poised over his bare skin, which started to heat uncomfortably. His breath hitched.
"Wifey my ass. Either you listen to me and pay attention, because I'm exhausted already, and it's only evening, or I'm going to stay here for as long as it fucking takes, and I know it's going to have some affect on you because - " Her leg nudged something that was very much in the motion of standing proudly in his southern region, and for the thousandth time that day, Percy felt his face heat up.
He was never like this with other women. Why did it have to be her?
Her face loomed a few inches away from his - a few more inches away than he would have liked - and he groaned out. On top of him, Annabeth smirked.
"This is only our second day as a married couple. You're so intimate." He managed to say hoarsely, because his member down there was getting a little too excited when it really, really shouldn't have been, and he had half a mind to get mad at it.
"Honestly, I'd keep my distance, but you never fucking listen, husband."
"You curse alot, wif - " He grunted as her leg nudged his southern region even more. "Okay, okay! I'll listen, I'll listen. Just get off of me, please."
"You'll do what, exactly?"
"I'll - I'll um, listen to you. And um, I won't get off topic. And I won't, um, distract you. Whatever you - whatever you want, okay?"
A pause. And then, "Should I? My foot is becoming rather stiff, and I don't like to - " He cut her off viciously. "Please, Chase, please!" He could feel her smirk grow larger, just like her ego.
"Fine. You're lucky that I'm not in a cruel mood." And then, oh the pleasure, the pleasure, she got off of him. There was also the slight fact that her foot seemed to rub him where the sun doesn't shine once again, and he was just barely able to compress a groan.
When he was finally able to get up again, which was a few long moments later, he found his wife's smug face looking at him victoriously, a pile of papers in her hand.
"I've already signed my share of half the papers. You sign these while I sign the other half, and print out whatever needs to be written, and then when I'm done and you're done, you can sign the second half while I look over at the things you've written. Make sure everything's done nice and neat." He took it with a hurt pride.
"I hate you." He grumbled, as he looked through the papers glumly.
"I hate you too." She said cheerfully. Well, as cheerfully as someone rock-hard like her could.
He scanned the papers.
"Please state the name of the respective spouses, the sex of each respective spouse, and date of birth of each respective spouse, the blood type of each respective spouse, if the couple has any children, the type of marriage, the duration of this union, and etc. You are expected to answer any additional question or information stated below. Please sign your names at the end of each paper, where it is marked 'signature'. Thank you for your cooperation."
"Gimme a pen." He said glumly. Annabeth held out a pen with a raised eyebrow - again?
"Are you telling me what to do?" She demanded, and he looked at her with whatever pride he could conjure.
"One of these days, I am so going to get back at you for giving me all these problems to deal with."
"Which problems?" She asked, amused.
"Would you like me to be more specific? As in, you know, my - "
"Stop whining and go back to work."
"I'm not whining."
"Do your work!"
"I am doing my work. You're the one who's distracting me, and talking to me."
"Would you like another problem, when the previous one hasn't been solved yet?"
He promptly felt silent.
EVEN AFTER HE FINISHED SIGNING EVERY SINGLE last paper, his beloved wife had him go over the print in every single piece of paper, until his eyes drooped, and his vision became even more blurry. His dyslexia was getting even worse, whatwith the hours upon hours of reading small print. Or had it been hours? He really couldn't tell, and he didn't have the energy to turn around and figure out what time the clock read.
Damned dyslexia, damned wife, damned papers, damned everything.
When she finally gave him the pleasure of taking a break, it was exactly 7:58 in the evening. Almost completely nighttime. He yawned loudly.
"Well, that's about it. Every single sheet of paper has been gone through thoroughly, and every single piece of paper has been signed where it needs to be signed." There was a silence. Percy looked up to see Annabeth staring at the pile of papers; staring at them, but not quite seeing them. Her gaze looked distant. He wondered what had happened to her, when her words hit him: it was all done.
"We're officially married."
"Yeah." Silence settled over the room. She stared at the papers, and he stared at the papers. There. It was done now. They had signed every last paper, and that meant that they were married now. Completely. Officially.
He almost couldn't believe it. It was done. They were married now. Completely, utterly, the whole lot. They just needed to get their own respective marriage licenses - did his father have them, or did the state? - take a look at their certificates, and bam. It was the end to any doubt they could have had about being married. They were married in every single way possible, besides their hearts, their souls, and the consummation of their marriage. It would probably come soon - the sparks told him as much - but it hadn't come yet, and that was that. As for the heart and soul - he just had to hope. Hope that they didn't, erm, fall in - no. He'd just have to hope they didn't get involved romantically. That would fuck every single last thing up.
"Guess it's time to call it a day, Chase." He bent and stretched his fingers, and cracked his knuckles.
"Yeah, I gue - wait. Have our clothes and things been brought?" Percy grimaced.
"Yeah. Everything's in our room. As in everything."
"And how exactly do you - "
"I went up to get the papers. As for how it got there, do you even have to ask?" He asked bad-naturedly, and she shook her head.
"I'm just asking." He was surprised that she hadn't answered just as rudely as he had, and for a moment, he almost felt guilty. He shook his head without looking at her, and got up, and made his way out the room, and up the stairs.
As he went up, his mind whirled, and for one moment, the thought that Annabeth had told him that he couldn't sleep on the bed anymore entered his mind. He ignored it. He would sleep on the bed, and she could sleep wherever. He wasn't in the mood.
Once he got there, he didn't give the suitcases strewn around another glance, before making his way to one of his own; a small, blue suitcase. He tossed his phone onto his nightstand carelessly, dug out his bamboo sleep pants - they could be considered pajamas, he supposed - tore off his shirt, making sure to not tear it or make a mark, and put those pants on.
As he settled into the comforters in bed, pulling the covers up to his neck, turning away from Blondie's side of the bed, he heard Annabeth heading upstairs. Without looking towards the door, he fumbled with his phone, setting up the alarm for what time he would wake up. He heard the door open, and he heard the soft footsteps stop.
"I thought I'd told you that you couldn't sleep here tonight." She said, though her voice sounded both cold and far away. Almost absent-minded, like she was deep in thought.
"I don't feel like getting up." He said, just as coldly. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as she leaned against the door frame, her gaze focusing.
"You know there are many other bedrooms, right? This is just the master bedroom. There are rooms for guests and other people. You could take one of those." He knew that. He just preferred here - with human contact. When he was alone, life was hell. Everything as hell. Everything was quiet and lonely, and there, things would come back to him.
"The rooms are empty," was the only thing he could think of saying. It didn't make sense; of course the other bedrooms were empty. Why wouldn't they be? But he couldn't think of anything else to say as an explanation to why he wanted to stay here - with human contact. Sure, she might leave but he doubted she would. He couldn't explain himself - he had been weak and vulnerable enough today more than he should have been in a whole lifetime.
"I see." He almost wondered whether she had lost it, because in the little time he had known her, she was never this understanding, but then came, "Gather up your act, Jackson. Just this once." She was letting him go, without a proper explanation. He got the slight feeling that she might have understood, that she could have understood, but he pushed it away.
"I don't have an act to gather up. Goodnight." Whatever she might have answered, or whether she had answered at all, he didn't know. He closed his eyes, and he closed his mind to the world. His body was cold, despite the comforter, but it wasn't because he was cold physically. His mind was retreating - and retreating - and he couldn't sleep feeling this cold and strangely empty, and - and some time later, he felt a warm, clothed body settle next to his. There was so much space, and she was quite the distance away from him, and he wanted, he needed a little bit more of that warmth.
Without opening his eyes, or making any sound of any sort, he turned around, pulled himself closer to that warm body that had no name in his mind, and settled himself against it. The body tensed, and he reached out, and held on to some part of it, and when it moved again, he held on even tighter, knowing that nothing could hurt her, so his grasp couldn't hurt her. It was tight, and yet, at the same time, it was loose, and if she wished, she could have moved away.
She didn't. And whatever the reason was - Percy didn't care enough to ask. He just needed warmth.
"Isn't it too early in this relationship to cuddle?" A surprisingly soft, teasing voice asked out into the darkness - it was getting rapidly dark outside, and the lights hadn't been turned on any time of the day - but he stayed quiet. He didn't know what to say. He needed warmth, and that was all there was to it.
"You could've asked." She tried yet again, and he didn't know what she was getting at. What was she trying to do, elicit some sort of response from him? He stayed quiet, though he wanted to say, you would've said no and laughed in my face.
Finally, she just went with a simple "Goodnight, asshole," before saying no more. A few moments later, he simply said, "Goodnight, blondie," into her luscious blonde hair. He swore he could feel her smirk against him.
This is long enough as it it. Wow, at least 8,ooo. That's well, something. I almost didn't update today, because this was left alone until Friday, where I touched up on it again, and finished it. I'd actually added something before the wedding, and almost the wedding itself, but there were a few holes in that, so I moved them to Chapter Eight. Which means I've started that chapter already.
Considering that this is very, very long, I'm going to keep this Author's Note short. I hope you guys liked this chapter, and thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and follows I've been given. I truly appreciate every single one of them, and I also see every single one of them. Thank you and enjoy the rest of your day :)
As for the grammatical mistakes in this chapter, I only went through with the words that had a red line underneath them. see any mistakes? tell me, whether it's PMing me or a review. I'll go over this at some point, along with the rest of the story when I can.
