ragingserenity asked: annabeth goes to san francisco to visit her dad, and when she comes back, percy's there to pick her up at the airport. maybe involving dropped bags and a tackle hug?
He's anxious.
Honestly though, he's been a bundle of nerves ever since he'd seen her off–exactly six days, twenty hours, and seventeen minutes ago (yes, he counted). The jittery feeling in his stomach has yet to disappear, instead intensifying with each second that passes.
Realistically, Percy knows he shouldn't be worrying about anything–she's flown on an airplane before, multiple times, after all–but that pit keeps growing, because there are so many times he's almost lost her this year, and he doesn't want there to be any sort of chance.
He'd offered to go with her, even with his paralyzing fear of heights (though, considering they've saved the world a dozen times over, he shouldn't be worrying about Zeus striking them down in a hissy-fit), but Annabeth had declined–she really needed to see her mortal family, to give them the reassurance that yes, she was alive and not completely traumatized.
He wonders if she told them about Tartarus.
While they talked through Iris Message more times than he really should have counted (twenty one, if anyone asks), it wasn't the same as being on the same side of the country with her, to have her stay across the hall, in the apartment's little guest bedroom because her cabin at camp is still in construction, and his mom refused to have her rent out a hotel room (like she could afford it, anyway).
The clock above his head keeps ticking, its hands settled on the three and five, respectively. There aren't too many people in the airport other than himself and a man who looks like he's hired to pick someone up–it's incredibly late in the night (or early in the morning, if you're picky).
There are more scenarios running through his head right now, ones where he doesn't see Annabeth's tired, but smiling face in the crowd that's sure to be coming any moment now.
Percy's almost convinced himself of this one possible outcome, one that's plagued him ever since he'd seen her board the plane, and when that mechanical, female voice says that Flight 843 has safely arrived and will be unloading shortly, he actually punches a fist in the air, letting out a "Whoop!" that probably irritated the chauffeur.
The next twelve minutes are probably the longest he's been through since they got back from Greece. He waits nervously, fiddling with his hands and pacing more than he should – he's probably made a dent in the linoleum.
And then, there's a rush of people coming out of the terminal, the terminal she's supposed to be coming through, and just as the first wave has passed he sees a flicker of bright blond curls and he knows it more than he knows himself.
His feet pick up, and he's running, not giving a care about how cliché this all is, because the only thing he's registering in the thud her bag makes as it hits the ground, and the way his arms feel wrapped around her again, his lips pressing against hers and the smile he feels spreading on both of their faces.
Even though he hates heights, he's soaring higher than he ever has before.
a/n: sorry for the cheese, aye. i have never been in an airport, i have not a clue how they work, so if something's off about it, don't badger me about it.