A/N: Yep, we're terrible people. It took us WAY too many MONTHS (!) to publish this, but we hope it's worth it... hope you like it :) Make sure to leave a review with any opinions, comments, and suggestions you have. They really, genuinely help, and we read and appreciate each one!
Annabeth's hair rested a few inches below her shoulders, and was cut very choppily, but she felt proud. Gone were the waist-length locks, and gone was the girl who wore them. Annabeth was new again.
After stopping to marvel at the luxurious items in several more streetside shops, Connor insisted that they head back toward the ship. Reluctantly, Annabeth agreed, and, arm in arm, the pair made their way back to the ship. Connor and Annabeth managed to drain his bottle of whiskey in the few short minutes they were walking back.
Stars sparkled in the cloudless sky above the Neptune, and Annabeth sighed contentedly, leaning into Connor's arm (now draped lackadaisically over her shoulders). She reached over and took the half-empty bottle of wine from him, taking a swig and laughing as she spilled a few drops on her new shirt.
Meanwhile, Percy watched the happy duo (couple?!) from the crow's nest, losing count of the whiskey bottles that lay empty around him. Annabeth's hair, he noticed, was shorter, choppier. It wasn't hair for a lady; it was hair for a warrior. Perhaps it was the alcohol talking, but Percy though she looked better that way. Not that he cared, right?
Connor, much drunker than Annabeth, swayed on his normally sturdy legs. Annabeth laughed, and helped him back upright. He planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek, and Annabeth giggled even more.
"Y'know...y'know Beth?" Connor began, each syllable unsteady and slurred, "We should ge' our own ship, yeah? You 'n' me, sailin' t'gether, 'dventuring..." He trailed off dreamily, then suddenly he perked up, like a puppy at the mention of treats. "I've a better idea!"
"Tell me!" Annabeth nearly shouted, blinking at the sudden outburst of noise. She wasn't as experienced with alcohol as a sailor, so she struggled to control her excitement.
"We could...we could...aw, damn, I've forgotten!" Connor pouted, and Annabeth completely lost it, bursting into peals of uncontrollable laughter.
They looked so happy together, Percy thought glumly.
"Oh, n'vermind, I've got it! We oughta get married, Beth!"
"Why, that's fantastic! How'd I not think of...why didn't I not—wait, that's not how you say it..." She frowned in frustration.
Percy clenched his fists. This was his ship, and Annabeth was HIS hostage, and Stoll would NOT marry her. Not under Percy's flag. Annabeth was his...
...his what? What was she to Percy? She didn't strike him as particularly valuable anymore; or at least, not valuable in the same way as she had seemed before. Annabeth was no longer a bargaining chip: she was, dare he say, a friend? But he'd gone and screwed it up again, damn it, he'd insulted her and lost her trust.
Were he sober, Percy would never have admitted it, but he already missed her.
Then, his alcohol-soaked brain made a decision (which seemed logical at the time). If Stoll wanted Annabeth, he'd have to take her from Percy. He'd have to win her. Percy gripped his sword, and swung a leg over the edge of the worn wooden crow's nest, shimmying unsteadily down the shrouds and slamming to the deck. Abandoning every shred of his dignity, Percy stepped forward, drawing his sword.
There was a moment of silence between the two men as they stared each other down. Connor raised an eyebrow, questioning Percy's motives, challenging him. Connor closed the distance between them and drew his own cutlass; shorter than Percy's, but more lithe, more nimble. With a flick of Connor's wrist, it slashed the air between them into calculated slivers. Percy winced despite himself. Connor stepped closer, and Percy fell backwards, catching himself against the steering wheel. The ship lurched. Connor was playing with him, God damn it. Could he not see that this was more than a game? He did not deserve to be toyed with. Annabeth did not deserve to be toyed with. She needed a man, someone who would fight his own mate for her. Was she so oblivious to Connor's childish tendencies?
Percy lunged forward out of the blue, and twisted his sword in a complicated arc, sending Connor's cutlass flying.
Connor abandoned all thoughts of self defense and went flying at Percy, fists clenched. Percy dropped his sword and the two boys tackled each other, rolling across the deck, scratching and clawing and punching until a single word pierced the air.
"STOP!" Annabeth's voice commanded from somewhere above Percy's head. She would make a good captain with a voice like that, he mused inconsequentially. Connor limped away from Percy, looking like a two year old whose hand was caught in the candy jar. Percy stood, eyes shooting daggers at Connor, as Annabeth began on some rant about respect. He loved the sound of her voice. Percy was thankful for all the whiskey he'd downed: it helped blur the pain of the small injuries across his body. Though now the whiskey seemed to have blurred more that his sensations; Percy's vision was going fuzzy as well. Annabeth's words still rang in his ears as he slumped to the ground.
When he woke, he didn't open his eyes instantly. Instead he took a few deep breaths, trying to recall what had happened just moments ago. He had fought with Stoll, then...nothing came to mind. So where was he?
A cool piece of fabric came in contact with his forehead suddenly, and Percy jumped, snapping his eyes open. It was only Annabeth, dabbing a rag to his face. Wait, what?
He swatted at her hand grumpily. "Don't need your 'elp," Percy grumbled. "You're just.. just…"
Annabeth's mouth was a thin line, reminiscent to Percy of a lit fuse. "I'm just a what, may I ask?"
Percy faltered, the alcohol in the pit of his stomach giving way to something more ominous. "You're … just… a lass."
Annabeth couldn't help but smirk at Percy's faltering cockiness. "Is that so? If that's the case, could "just a lass" do this?" And with that, she snatched the bottle of whiskey from his feeble grasp and downed it in one fell swoop. All Percy could do was stare, his mouth gaping open. Annabeth laughed as Percy hiccuped.
Annabeth's throat burned, but she feigned placidity. "Yep, you're still drunk then," Annabeth concluded, smiling. "Don't worry, you haven't missed much."
"Get offa me!" He batted her hand away again, sitting up. The sudden pains coming from various locations across his body caused Percy to wince.
"You got pretty scratched up in that 'noble' fight, Captain," Annabeth said, amusement twinkling in her eyes.
Turning away from the far-from-sober captain, Annabeth dipped the bloodstained rag into her bucket once more. From behind her, she heard a...sniffle?
Percy was staring intently at his hands, making a strange sort of pout. Annabeth stifled a snort.
"What is it, Captain?" She asked warily, unsure of what to expect from the intoxicated pirate.
"I..." he sniffled, evidently fighting back tears, "I only have eight fingers!"
Evidently distressed, he waved his hands in Annabeth's direction. She smiled, untucking the thumb from behind his left hand.
"See? There's your other one," Annabeth reassured in a tone reminiscent of her own childhood nanny.
Percy's eyes lit up suddenly, and an astonished smile crept across his face. "Do the other one!" he insisted, like an impatient toddler.
Annabeth reluctantly complied, before insisting he needed to sleep.
She bent to tuck Percy's thin sheets around his bedframe, but stopped when he took her wrist in his hand.
Annabeth froze, her eyes widening slightly. Percy had touched her casually before, jostling her into her room when he first took her captive, the occasional helping hand down from the crow's nest…
But this was different. This was intimate. Annabeth held her breath, unsure how to respond.
Percy reached up with his other hand and tucked a strand of her shortened hair behind her ear, muttering something incoherent about the color of her hair. His hand was resting on the nape of her neck, and he leaned upwards suddenly, closing the gap between the two of them.
For a moment, Annabeth's forehead was touching Percy's, and her eyes weren't quite closed, but she could almost see the concentration in his as he bridged the gap between them.
She had expected his lips to be rough, insistent, taking control and consuming her inhibitions. Instead, his kiss was needy and light, his lips clinging to hers desperately, the way a child clings to a toy. He drank her in, his hands unsure and trembling. He's weaker than he lets on, was all that Annabeth could think before throwing her moral compass to the side and kissing him back, hard.
Percy seemed less inebriated and far more alert than before, leaning away from the kiss, pressing a halting finger to her lips. His green eyes filling with lust as he searched her eyes hungrily. God, she could drown in those eyes. She didn't give a damn about l'appel du vide, to hell with having the wisdom to know she shouldn't; she'd fling herself into those eyes until she could no longer breathe. Through the alcoholic haze that clouded her mind, Annabeth considered her options. She could eschew his advances, go back to her room, spend the night being rocked to sleep by the ocean as she had every night for months. But that option, however lonely, was one she wouldn't regret. The alternative… well, the alternative sparked something deep within her that sent blood rushing to her brain, crowding out all her common sense. She grabbed Percy by the collar and leaned in.
Percy awoke to a massive headache and a girl in his arms, a combination that men lesser than himself would have been used to. It was more unfamiliar, however, to Percy, as he squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the light filtering through his small window. Readjusting his position slightly, Percy got a better look at Annabeth snuggled into his chest. She really was beautiful.
For the first night in months, Percy couldn't remember having a nightmare about Castellan or the map.
But there was another problem: Percy couldn't remember what had happened the night before.
Panicking, he gently shook Annabeth awake. His heart rate slowed as he watched her crinkle her nose adorably, noting that they sported identical hangovers.
Annabeth groaned, rubbing her eyes. Percy watched the same (almost comical) expression settle on her face as she took in her surroundings. He noticed the small purplish spots trailing down her neck (evidently left there by Percy), which only added to his concern about the previous night.
"Did we...?" She began, trailing off suggestively.
"I..." Percy hesitated before finishing, "I don't know.
A/N: Ooh, tension! What'd you think? Don't worry, all will be revealed eventually. Reviews are better than that feeling you get when you shave your legs and they brush against the sheets! Seriously though, the next 5 reviewers will get lil shootouts in the next chapter!
-C and K
