A/N: I wrote this in one sitting after working on NaNoWriMo. I don't know anymore. KJ: This is all your fault.

Annabeth knew good and well how she felt about Hera, and she liked it that way, thank you very much. The goddess hated her, as was made clear by the various cow pies that were left on her doorstep every morning for years as well as stealing her boyfriend away for eight months, and the feeling was mutual; Annabeth knew she could never see eye-to-eye with a goddess who only valued perfect families and kidnapped people on whims.

It had been years, of course. Annabeth and Percy were settled in at college, still together, and Hera was off doing whatever it was she did. She didn't ever need to speak to Hera again, and that was completely fine by her.

That was, of course, until she received a letter from Hermes that the Queen of Olympus wanted some repairs done.

"I'm not a mechanic," Annabeth spat, throwing the letter back at Hermes, "nor am I her maid. She's a goddess. She can fix whatever it is herself."

Hermes winced, then looked up, as though an answer would fall from the sky and into his brain. "If you read carefully, you notice that nothing is broken. She is requesting your handiwork and your expertise as an architect—"

"Architecture student," Annabeth retorted. Normally, she considered, even prided herself as an architect, but if Hera suddenly wanted favors from Annabeth, she would be as naïve as possible to avoid the queen.

Hermes waved her off, clearly seeing through her. "I just…I know I'm not supposed to give advice. I'm just the messenger. But…I wouldn't ignore summons from the Queen. She tends to be rather...what's the word…"

"Rude? Bitchy?" Annabeth tried.

Hermes looked at the sky again and recoiled, this time clearly expecting to be turn into cow dung or something. Nothing happened, so he exhaled. "Just. Respond, at the very least."

Annabeth sucked her teeth. "Fine." She slammed the door to her dorm, then sat at her desk, pushing aside blueprints and scribbling a hasty note to Hera. "Kinda strange that you'd ask a student to remodel your house, but who am I to judge the motivations of the Queen of Heaven? When would you like to meet up to plan this?"

She read it over a few times, then stepped out to hand the reply to Hermes.

He unfolded the paper, looking quizzically at Annabeth.

"You're not supposed to read the messages you deliver," Annabeth pointed out.

He ignored her, scanning the note. "You're really going to piss her off."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

He sighed. "Your funeral, Annabeth." He pocketed the note, and Annabeth averted her eyes as he vanished.

Thanking whatever gods cared that the crisis was over for now, she went back to her homework.

She absorbed herself in it for about an hour until she felt another presence in her room.

On her bed, specifically.

It was a long twin bed, as dorm beds often were, so when Percy spent the night, they often had to get rather cozy. It wouldn't be a problem if he lied still when he slept, but he kicked a lot, so she often pushed him to the floor. Right now, though, she figured her intruder (likely Percy, as no one else went into her room) had things in mind that weren't sleeping. She wasn't averse to an afternoon romp, but now, with the loads of homework she had, it just wasn't the right time.

She swiveled her chair to face the bed, speaking before she saw her intruder. "Percy, I know last night wasn't enough for you, but I really need to focus—"

It was not Percy on her bed.

The Queen of the Gods lounged on her bed, one knee up as she stared at the ceiling. She had a cigarette, too, but it didn't smell like tobacco, but rather, something sweeter, like she was literally smoking ambrosia, if that were possible.

She blew smoke in Annabeth's general direction and asked, "You done?"

Annabeth made a load of strangled, confused noises, none of them being words in any particular language. Finally, she managed, "What are you doing here?"

"Responding to your rude letter," she said, sitting up. "Look, Annabeth. I'm not stupid. I know you're still mad about the whole mix-up a few years ago—"

"You kidnapped my boyfriend and hid him away for eight months!"

Hera waved her off. "What's done is done and had to be done. Still, being flippant about my summons isn't the best of ideas, really, is it?"

Annabeth sighed. "Can you stop smoking in my room?"

She took another drag, as if it proved her point. "You'll be at my house tomorrow afternoon. Bring all your books, and be prepared to stay for dinner."

Annabeth grimaced. "For dinner?"

"My treat. Goodness, you really need to let the past go, Miss Chase."

Annabeth swallowed her arsenal of witty remarks, which felt oddly like an anxious lump in her throat. "Alright. I'll be there."

"Good." She stood.

Annabeth had never gotten a good look at the goddess before, as she had usually tried not to look at her at all. But with the golden light streaming through the gauzy blue curtains, Hera was in a form that Annabeth couldn't help but stare at.

Hera was pretty. This was a fact, of course, as she competed against the literal Goddess of Beauty before. But Annabeth had never really thought about how pretty she was. Her brown hair was waist-length and glossy, and her face held sharp features that were haunting—not in a terrifying way, but stern, maternal. Despite all the sharp angles, her large brown eyes held a sort of softness to them, hiding years of pain behind all the darkness.

As she watched her face, she noticed there were flecks of gold in them, too, that sparkled in the sunlight. She also had freckles dotting her nose, some down her neck, and all over her shoulders. Her dress was low and revealing, and Annabeth flushed as she noticed ample cleavage—and that Hera was not wearing a bra. The dorm was rather cool, as Annabeth had the window open, and she was nipping, which made Annabeth lick her lips despite herself.

Averting her eyes at the confusing sight, she focused on her arms. Annabeth had to resist the urge to touch them, for they looked rather toned, though Annabeth wasn't sure why; she had never seen Hera do much of anything aside from be annoying.

So annoying, but so…alluring.

Hera cleared her throat, and Annabeth snapped out of her daze. She didn't realize she had been staring at the goddess for quite some time now.

"Like what you see, Annabeth Chase?" Hera asked, a smirk playing on those perfect red lips.

Annabeth blinked a few times. "No," she replied, but it wasn't convincing. It came out small, like a child's white lie.

Hera chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made goosebumps stand on Annabeth's skin. "See you tomorrow, Wise Girl." And she flickered out of existence, the syrupy smoke still hanging in the air.

It was after she left that Annabeth realized Hera used the pet name Percy gave her.

"Like what you see, Annabeth Chase?"

Annabeth leaned against the wall of her shower, frantically rubbing between her legs. She gasped, despite trying to please herself as quietly as possible. The walls of her dormitory were rather thin, after all, and though she and Percy managed to have quiet enough sex, she couldn't stop herself from moaning.

The chuckle Hera had rang in her ears, in her heart, and through her core, and she felt herself pulse as she slipped a finger inside. Annabeth wasn't a virgin, of course, but she had never even considered dating a woman, much less sleeping with one. Still, she wondered what Hera's fingers would feel like inside her. They were long, elegant, like a pianist, and she was sure quite agile.

She curled her fingers and slapped the wall of the shower, shouting despite herself as she found a particularly delicate spot. She imagined Hera in the shower behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist and hand between her legs, fingering her like mad. She could practically feel those perfect teeth nibbling her ear as she worked, and Annabeth sunk to the floor of the shower, the water pounding against her hot skin.

Come for me, Miss Chase. Show me you've forgiven me.

Annabeth seized and climaxed with a scream, bringing a knuckle to her teeth to bite down, wishing so desperately it was Hera's shoulder as she clung to the goddess. As she closed her eyes, she could imagine those perfect lips leaving red stains over her cheeks, neck, and lips, only to be smeared by sweat and shower water.

Then Annabeth came to her senses.

She withdrew her hand, angrily eyeing the puddle and stringy wetness between her fingers, then continued actually washing herself.

Resting her head against the glass of the shower door, she muttered, "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

She hated Hera. They were sworn enemies. Sure, Hera was pretty—she was a goddess! They were all pretty!—but that didn't stop her from being heinous and a villain in Annabeth's narrative.

She scrubbed herself off, groaning at the residue her orgasm left on her thighs. Annabeth was smart. She could see past charms. But why did she lose her mind at a few quips and some cleavage? This wasn't like her.

Did Hera enchant her? It didn't seem like something Hera would gain anything from. Besides, she was married.

She was married.

"Fuck," Annabeth cursed to herself as she rinsed her hair. There was no way the Goddess of Marriage would stray from the King of the Gods, let alone flirt with a girl, and she had nothing to gain from playing with Annabeth's emotions more than she already had.

This was…all Annabeth. Annabeth only had herself to blame for her shameful solo romp in the shower.

She turned off the water and got out, dejected and ready to sleep this whole fiasco off. As she toweled off her hair, she could've sworn she heard Hera's low, husky voice, Come to bed, Wise Girl.

She yanked the towel off her head, only to find herself alone in her dorm.

"I'm going insane," she muttered as she slipped on her pajamas. Noticing that she was still sticky between her legs, she decided against them, and slipped into her bed in the nude.

She wondered what Hera would be like to sleep with.

Not just sex, but actually sleep. Would she hold her, or would she want to be held? Would she kick like Percy?

Percy…

Annabeth groaned to herself and covered her head.

She had a boyfriend. A steady boyfriend for years. A boyfriend Hera knew about.

"This is so fucked up," Annabeth murmured. She turned off her lamp, and let her post-masturbation coitus take over.