AN: Hey, a small break from your regularly scheduled Latte Boy update. Took this week to focus on this fic I've been working on for my girlfriend's birthday. Rachi, you're the best. Just absolute greatest gal a guy could ask for. You're so strong and tough and caring and kind and everything. You don't need me, yet you decided to choose me as yours. (literally. She asked me out cause I didn't have the guts.) You are… everything. Your smile lights up my life and I know you weren't expecting it, but that's kinda the point. (Special thanks to Mia for proofreading it. Rachi, don't kill her. I asked her to keep it a secret, and she delivered). Hope you enjoy it, Rachi. I love you.
P.S. Harry Potter spoiler warnings. It'll make sense. I warned you.
Annabeth hated her wrist. She hated everything about it. It was too skinny, too pale. There were words on it. Too many words. Words she absolutely hated ever since the day she read Harry Potter. In cursive writing, surrounding her hated wrist, sat the phrase Man, I still can't believe Rowling killed off Dumbledore. For the first ten or so years of her life, Annabeth was completely innocent to the implications of the words. They scared her a little, sure. She was ten years old with a phrase about killing permanently written on her skin. Any ten-year-old would be a little scared. But then, Harry Potter entered her life and she realized how much pain she would forever be forced to endure.
From the moment she read the first sentence about Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Annabeth had hated her wrist. She had just started reading Harry Potter. She was a major bookworm. She knew in only the way one can know oneself that she wouldn't put down the series. She resigned herself to having her favorite series completely spoiled by a person she had yet to meet. She hated the soulmate thing so much.
Soulmates. Supposedly, there's someone out there for everyone. Everybody in the world had that perfect someone just for them. To help match people together, some sort of higher power, the gods, the God, aliens, who knew, had decided everyone would be born with the first words their soulmate would ever say to them imprinted on their wrists. Theoretically, this would work. In reality… yeah, that was a completely different question.
In reality, most people had innocent day-to-day phrases like Hey or how's it going or I thought you were cute, can I get your number. This caused a lot of chaos and a general sense of desperation for a lot of people. But then, there were those with incredibly unique and weird phrases that people could only dream of the situation one would find themselves in. Annabeth's friend Thalia had the phrase Watch where you're going, Goth Barbie on her wrist. Annabeth had to admit that was a pretty unique insult, but that was entirely beside the point.
Her whole life, Annabeth Marie Chase, her school's resident nerd and bookworm had had to live with one of the craziest, worst, and most terrible spoilers of all-time. Man, I still can't believe Rowling killed off Dumbledore. Yeah, well guess what. Annabeth Chase still can't believe she won't kill you… whoever you are, you random soulmate stranger person.
Annabeth sighed to herself as she reorganized some of the books in the small bookstore where she worked. Why did people have to leave everything so out of order? You just picked the book off the shelf. How in the world do you forget where it goes less than a minute later?
Groaning, she sat down on the floor, having to reorganize the entire 39 Clues series that somehow had books 7, 8, and 9 before book 4. A quick move of her arms and the books were back in their proper place. Now to stand back up. Why did she sit down to begin with? She really didn't want to get up. Maybe she could just doze off…
"Annabeth!" Or not.
Chiron rolled in his chair to the aisle where Annabeth was sitting, "Are you okay, m'dear? You look tired."
Annabeth gave her boss a small half-smile, "Yeah, sorry, Chiron. Just stayed up reading late last night."
"Ah." Chiron's eyes sparkled warmly, "I can let you go home now, if you need it. I'm sure I can deal with my new employee on my own, once he arrives here."
Annabeth shook her head, "No, no, it's okay. I told you I'd train him, so I'll still do it."
Chiron smiled, "Alright. But you go home and sleep the moment he's done with learning the organization and everything, okay?" His gaze took a more serious tone for a moment, "And I do mean sleep. No staying up tonight, again, Miss Chase."
Annabeth nodded quickly, "Of course, Chiron. Thanks." Chiron only ever called her Miss Chase when he was serious. Annabeth knew to not even try fighting with him.
Chiron's lighter gaze returned, "You are quite welcome, m'dear. Now, he should be here any moment now. Trust me when I say you will definitely know it's Perseus Jackson when you see him."
Annabeth tilted her head, "What's that supposed to mean?"
Chiron just winked, "He won't belong." And with that slightly cryptic phrase, the bookstore owner wheeled away, leaving Annabeth with her thoughts, completely and utterly flabbergasted.
Okay then…
Annabeth walked to the register counter by the door so she would be able to see the mysterious Perseus Jackson when he walked through the door. She wasn't sure how she felt about the new guy. It had always been just her and Chiron. No one else to work with them. But Chiron was starting to get up in the years, even if he never showed it, and with college starting soon, there was no way Annabeth would be able to work as much as she used to work.
Annabeth, mainly to avoid growing bored, grabbed the book she kept under the counter for slower times and opened to the dog-eared page. She'd read the Harry Potter series so many times over the years. Despite a major plot point being spoiled by her stupid wrist, she seriously enjoyed the rest of the series. Coincidentally, the book she was reading was the one with that very specific scene she hated.
As one does, Annabeth quickly got lost in the book, her eyes flicking across the pages. Images of magic and plots and wizards and Muggles filled her mind, distracting her from the door opening and a boy who definitely did not belong in the bookstore walking up to the counter. A sudden ringing of the bell next to Annabeth's ear and she snapped her head up, squeaking a bit at the sudden appearance of a boy who could only be Perseus Jackson.
Chiron was right. He did not belong. The boy she could only assume was Perseus Jackson stood before her, dressed in what could only be described as a mixture of punk and jock aesthetics. Yes, she loved aesthetics. Shush. Back to Perseus Jackson. A backwards snapback hid most of his hair, but some strands of vibrantly dyed blue stuck through the front gap. His sea-green eyes rested above a nose that had definitely been broken at least once; a nose that itself rested above a pair of lips with a small lip ring. The lips that seemed to twist in a permanent mischievous smirk. He was dressed in a football jersey over a black hoodie and rounded out his outfit with jaggedly ripped jeans and a pair of beat up old basketball sneakers. All in all, a very confusing aesthetic.
Annabeth suddenly realized her book was no longer in her hands, but in the hands of a boy still yet to be named but also undoubtedly Perseus Jackson. His eyes flicked over the cover multiple times before a look of slight annoyance and humor stretched across his face. Looking up at Annabeth from the cover, he shook his head, "Man, I still can't believe that Rowling killed off Dumbledore."
Suddenly a mixture of emotions flooded Annabeth's mind. Anger, disbelief, relief, and a whole myriad of other confusing and overwhelming emotions all at once. She sat there staring at Perseus Jackson in disbelief. Perseus Jackson tilted his head, "You okay there? You look a bit tire—"
Perseus Jackson's sentence was cut off as Annabeth did the next logical step. She leaned over the counter and smacked him square across the face, leaving a red handprint across his jaw and cheek. "IT'S YOU?!"
Perseus Jackson blinked. He blinked again. He glanced down at his wrist. He looked up at Annabeth. Blinked again. Looked at his wrist. Returned his gaze to Annabeth. Then he started chuckling, "Okay, yeah, I definitely didn't think that's how that was going to be said."
As it turns out, Annabeth was right about Percy's aesthetic. He was both punk and jock. He was a star swimmer, making high school nationals every year since his Freshman year and on a full-ride scholarship to the same college Annabeth was attending. He was also incredibly punk and it had taken Annabeth the past four years to finally convince him to maybe dye his hair a non-neon color this time. Well, she may have bribed him because of their upcoming wedding, but still. It had finally happened. She didn't mind that tattoos though. Not at all. Just, the hair needed to be toned down for the wedding so it would go better with her dress.
Oh. Yeah, that's right. They were getting married. Annabeth got over her hurt of being spoiled for her whole life and Percy's cheek eventually healed (read: it took less than five minutes). They worked together all through college. At the start of their senior year, Percy had proposed. It was simple, just the two of them, closing the bookstore on a normal school night. Nothing special, but it was more special than anything. He had dropped to one knee when she turned around to put the vacuum away. She turned back to ask him something and froze.
Percy had quickly started talking, "Please, Annabeth, don't slap me again. I just thought, maybe, you'd like to marry me?"
Annabeth had rolled her eyes, "I am not going to slap you. Well, maybe that booty later. But not your face. And yes, Percy, obviously I'm saying yes!"
Quickly, the ring was slid on and a kiss was shared. Just the two of them. A private moment they would cherish. His hair had matched the stone in the ring that night, a vibrant sea-green to match his eyes as well.
Now, here they were, about to married. The next day, actually. Annabeth was excited, if a bit nervous. She smiled to herself, as she read the Half-Blood Prince again, now her favorite of the series. Percy was in the shower after a tough practice. When he walked out, she grinned up at him. No, she definitely didn't mind those tattoos and she definitely no longer hated her wrist.
And yes, she definitely did slap that booty.
AN: Rachi, hope you enjoyed that! I love you very much! Yes, I stole the prompt from a tumblr soulmate thing. But it was cute, and I know you were probably smiling very much when you read the prompt, so I figured, why not use Percabeth to write it. And to the rest of my readers, I promise to get back to posting on Percy the Latte Boy next week. This just had to happen first, for obvious reasons. See y'all next week!