slow motion double-vision in a rose blush

by herecomesthepun

in which Annabeth is student body president, Percy spends most of his time smoking in back rooms and friends with benefits is a lot more complicated than they thought. Percabeth, AU. One-shot. For Jillian!

A/N: hello all!

firstly – hope everyone is staying safe and whatnot, and happy new year! what a weirdarse year 2020 was. here's to 2021 being even marginally better

anyway, this is a birthday fic dedicated to my dear friend jillian! (told u i'd do it ;D) happy birthday jillian! you are such a dear and are nothing but absolutely excellent and i am so so glad that we are friends! u are my percabeth confidante and my only hope for passing maths. i love u a lot friend and i hope u have a great 18th! love u lots n lots xx

also as a warning: this fic contains lots of american high school creative liberties. apologies to all americans. esp to jillian. normally u r my go-to for american school things but 4 this one i had to fly solo. hopefully i didn't mess up too much :]

title from the gold rush by taylor swift (evermore is just... everything) and i hope u enjoy!

---

Percy's just managed to get the lighter working when there comes a rap at the door.

"Put that out," Thalia hisses to him, "Student Council."

"Are you kidding?" Percy says. This piece of crap has a small bit of a lighter fluid left in it, and switches it on once in a blue moon. He's not about to waste this for department inspections, or whatever meaningless drivel the Council have come up with now. "Student Council can deal."

There's another knock at the door. This time it's more impatient.

"Your funeral," Thalia says. To the door: "You can come in."

The door opens, and in walks Annabeth Chase with the rest of the council. Percy feels a grin stretch across his face just at the sight of her.

"You realise you don't have to knock every time," Thalia says. "It's a free country."

"I didn't want to walk into an orgy," Annabeth says. "Or whatever other illegalities you get up to in here." Her eyes fall on the unlit cigarette in Percy's hand, and her perfect brows knit together. "You can't smoke inside."

Percy snorts. "Who died and made you queen?"

"As a matter of fact," Annabeth says, "sixty-seven percent of the student body."

"Is it part of the job that you have to memorise that statistic or did you just do it for fun?"

"I memorise it for when people like you try and invalidate or discredit my success."

"Ooh, big words, Chase. Do you even know what they mean to be slinging them around like that?"

Annabeth's eyes narrow. She knows she's being mocked; Percy can see it in the way her face tightens. No one likes being made fun of, least of all student body president Annabeth Chase. "Throw the cigarette away," she says, "or I'll dock marks."

"You're cute when you're trying to be threatening," Percy says, but drops the cigarette on the floor anyway. He stifles a grin at the way Annabeth's glossed lips purse like she's just eaten something bad.

"Don't be condescending, Percy," Thalia chides with a grin, taking another drag of her joint. "Don't you get that docked marks is a serious penalty?"

Annabeth's mouth thins into a straight line. "It's not like you even had very many to begin with," she says, and takes one trepidatious step into the room. Percy almost grins at it. The linoleum smells of damply of rot and rainwater, and it's beginning to peel up from the floor near the walls. One gets used to it after a few minutes, and it's not like Percy cares much about his own clothes, but he can tell the council is gagging to get out as quickly as possible. Still, now that Annabeth has made the first move, they distastefully spill in as well, sticking to the outskirts of the room as much as they can.

"Careful," Thalia says mildly, "the wall has mould."

One of them – Malcolm, the cheerleader, in his spotless uniform – flinches away from it. Annabeth ignores her, takes another step in and looks around.

Percy can't help himself. "What's the verdict, then, Your Highness?"

Annabeth looks over her shoulder at him. Her eyes are steely. "Counting the pleasant company? Negative seven."

"I think something is moving over here," one of them says, from one of the corners of the room.

"That's Brian," Thalia says. "He's the rat."

They all glance at each other. Thalia has a habit of perpetually sounding bored whenever she talks – it's hard to tell when she's being serious. Thalia must be able to see their hesitation because she rolls her eyes and says, "Joking."

They titter nervously.

Annabeth glances around again, her fingers tight around her clipboard. Her nails are painted a light pink. It matches with the ribbon sealing her ponytail. Percy tries not to notice how well the colour flatters her eyes and mouth. "We need to tell Mr Brunner to do something about this," she says, to one of them. "This building clearly isn't being used for anything productive."

Percy raises an eyebrow. "I would beg to differ."

She turns to look at him, unimpressed. "Would you."

"Of course," Percy says. "It's a music room. Music is happening."

Annabeth gestures around the room. "Funny," she says. "I don't hear any music. Or see any instruments."

Percy smirks, and sits back on one of the chairs. "You should stay behind one day. Let me do a demonstration on how to make a girl sing."

"Pass."

"Seriously, though," Percy says. "You get rid of this, we're gonna have to move. You want us stinking up your precious classrooms? Isn't it best you keep this so we can stay out of the way?"

To emphasise his point, Thalia crosses her ankles on top of one of the chairs. The mud that cakes the soles of her boots smears against it, and the small pool of water that had collected in the chair's valley from the leaky ceiling disturbs and drips down the side.

"It's really in your best interest," Percy says, with a small shrug. "Up to you."

Annabeth cuts her eyes at him, but doesn't say anything. For few moments, there is nothing but silence, aside from the drip of the ceiling and the tap-tap-tap of her expensive fountain pen against her clipboard. The rest of the student council watches her anxiously. Annabeth Chase, their leader. There's a calculating look in her eyes.

Finally, something in her expression shifts, and she clicks her pen. "Negative eleven," she says, decisively. To the council: "Come on. I fear we'll get exposure to mould poisoning if we're in here any longer than we have to be."

"Your concern for our health is touching," Percy calls, as the council waste no time fleeing from the room. Annabeth pauses momentarily by the door; she is the last to leave. She looks back over her shoulder at them, still sat on the chairs near the back of the room. She doesn't fit in, in a room like this: the candy pink of her cotton cardigan feels disconcerting amidst the red of the walls, weeping rainwater and mulch. A room like this should swallow her whole, like a candle underwater. Standing on the cusp of it, one foot on the soggy flooring and one out in the sunshine, she just skirts its event horizon. It would take a hurricane to dampen Annabeth Chase's spark.

"Get your acts together," Annabeth says. "You can't live the rest of your lives getting into fights and smoking in the back buildings of high schools."

Thalia blows a particularly impressive cloud of smoke towards her, and to her credit Annabeth doesn't even flinch. "We'll keep that in mind," she says.

"Thanks, princess," Percy adds.

Annabeth gives him one final look that he can't quite decipher. "You get detention for a department inspection score of under five," she says finally. "I expect to see you both in the library at four pm."

Percy simpers at her. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Annabeth doesn't even dignify that with a response. Instead, she turns on her heel and exits.

"Good to talk to you as well!" he calls.

Predictably, there's no response. He huffs out a laugh, and digs in his pocket for another cigarette; he always keeps his box tucked away somewhere. He pulls one out, flicks the lighter, and by a miracle it sputters to life. He lights his cigarette, takes a deep inhale, turns to Thalia – and finds her looking at him with one eyebrow raised.

He suddenly feels defensive. "What?"

She watches his face for a few moments, before rolling her eyes. "Absolutely nothing," she says, and before he can push her further, she takes another long drag of her joint and tips her head backwards, closing her eyes.

---

After being tucked away in the terrapin for so long, Percy always forgets about the grandeur of Goode High until he makes his daily trek to the library for after-school detention. The terrapin was initially set up to expand the music department back in the 70s, Percy thinks, one of those portable classrooms, but no one really touched it since, mainly because it leaks and there's a mammoth spider stuck between the panes of one of the windows that never fails to freak out potential squatters. It smells and when there's especially strong wind everything rattles, but Percy and Thalia have made it work: it's a safe enough refuge from Clarisse and her cronies, whom Percy seriously doubt even know it's back here, and teachers, because they forget it exists. And it's not like they necessarily have a reason to bust them, not unless someone narked on the weed, because Percy makes sure to go to enough classes that he doesn't get a call home.

Doesn't mean he necessarily has to behave in them.

"Ah, Percy, Thalia," Mr Brunner says, as they troop towards the library doors. "Good to see you. Not so glad to see you in detention again."

Percy salutes. "Here every day, sir."

"Admit it, Brunner," Thalia says. "Without us your life would be so very boring."

"Without you I doubt my hair would be as grey," Mr Brunner says, but his eyes are sparkling. He jerks his head in the direction of the doors. "Come on, get in there before you're late."

He and Thalia troop through the doors. The library is one of those old ones that sort of remind Percy of a cathedral, mainly in that everything is brown and at least fifty years old. There are more people than normal in detention today, and they're all sat at the tables all looking severely grumpy. Percy doesn't recognise most of them: amusedly, he realises the majority are probably victims of Annabeth's regime of terror.

Then his gaze shifts to the other side of the room, and he feels his expression falter a little. Closest to the fire exit, picking her nails with her switchblade, sits Clarisse. With her are her three friends – although Percy thinks friends is a general term; they most remind him of gorillas she fed enough that they follow her orders – each one bigger and uglier than the last. There's a scrape high up on her cheekbone that's just beginning to heal over, a memento courtesy of Thalia from their last run-in. Generally, Percy just tries to avoid Clarisse; he's not like Thalia who loves the thrill of a fight, gets a weird sort of high off of tempting the bull. He prefers mostly to stay out of it, and luckily their classes never intersect enough that crossing her path is a daily habit, but still, even just being Thalia's friend is enough to put him on Clarisse's shit list.

As if to emphasise, she turns and they accidentally make eye contact. She sneers at him, flicking the switchblade open like she'd rather she was doing it next to his eye, and, because he can't help it, he salutes her. Her sneer turns irritated, and he turns away to hide his smile.

If she saw that, he's pretty sure she'd throw the switchblade, and he doesn't doubt she has near-perfect aim.

He and Thalia end up picking seats near the back, furthest from Clarisse's table. Next to them is Will Solace, from the art department, who's aggressively picking at a scab on his hand. Thalia nods at him as they collapse in the seats across from him.

"'Sup," Thalia says.

"Hey," Will says sulkily.

"Why the long face?"

Scowling, Will juts his chin towards the library doors, through the windows of which Percy can still see Brunner greeting students. "Ask Princess Annabeth."

Percy and Thalia share a grin.

"Department inspection?" Percy says.

"You, too?"

"Apparently, having rats is not a sign of cleanliness," Thalia says.

Percy squints at her. He's never seen a rat before. "I can never tell if you're joking."

"You'll see him in due course," Thalia tells him. "I leave him biscuit crumbs."

"We got a four because we had paint on the floor," Will says. "But it's an art room, of course there's going to be paint on the floor. Besides, our theme for the month is Jackson Pollock. Did she think we were going to make inspired art tidily?"

"Tough life, man," Percy says.

"Chase is a hardass," Will says. He sits back in his seat, folding his arms, and glances at them. "You're the music department, right? What did you get?"

"Negative eleven."

"Knew it," Will says. "She's after the arts. Should we coup?"

"Love the enthusiasm," Thalia says, "but sounds like a lot of work."

"Agreed," says Will. "We'll regroup later."

Percy opens his mouth to respond when he hears the library doors swish open again. He turns his head and sees Mr Brunner wheeling in with Annabeth behind him, and his mouth goes a little dry at the sight. She's clearly just come from practice because she's changed from the pink cardigan to her cheer uniform, and damn if those things don't do her justice. She swings herself onto the check-out desk, long golden legs swinging underneath her, and pulls out a compartment mirror from her sports bag, fixing up an invisible imperfection on her lipstick.

As if she can feel his eyes on him, she glances up, and Percy quickly averts his gaze elsewhere. Next to him, Thalia snickers.

"You're pathetic," she says.

Percy scowls at her. "You don't have to sound so entertained."

Thalia bares her teeth in a grin, but before she can say anything, from the front of the room Mr Brunner calls, "Students!", and Percy takes it as an excuse to turn away from her. From his peripheral, he sees her roll her eyes amusedly.

Mr Brunner has positioned his wheelchair so it is facing everyone, as though he is about to give a lecture. "Hello, everyone," he says, his voice warm and friendly. "I'm glad to see you all here today. Granted, it would be preferable if it weren't under such circumstances, but it's good to see some of you I haven't yet seen today." At that moment, his eyes stray, almost unbidden, to Thalia and Percy in the back row, and Thalia shoots him a thumbs-up. He suppresses a close-lipped grin at that. Despite the vendetta Percy has sworn against all the teachers in this school, he does have to admit that Brunner is one of his favourites. There's something so knowledgeable about him, so indiscriminatory about his manner. His class is the only class Percy actually tries in.

He realises he's zoned out when he sees Brunner's mouth moving, and he jerks himself out of his reverie. "I know Annabeth did her department inspections today," Mr Brunner is saying, "which is why, I'm assuming, there is quite a lot of you here today. I hope you can learn from this and make sure to keep your departments tidier to make for a better working environment for the rest of the school."

Mutinously, Will mutters, "Creative oppression. It's like communism."

As if he heard, Brunner purses his lips in a suppressed close-lipped grin. "Now that you're all here, the detention can start officially." He half-turns to gesture to Annabeth. "I actually can't stay – I have to go to a staff meeting – so Annabeth has been nice enough to volunteer her afternoon to monitor you. Remember, this detention ends at five, so if I'm not back in time to dismiss you, you can leave – but not a minute before. Am I understood?"

Everyone murmurs their assent. Thalia says, "Thoroughly!"

Mr Brunner lets out a laugh that he quickly turns into a cough. "Thank you, Thalia," he rasps, and then clears his throat. "I am going to head off now, so I expect you all to behave." To Annabeth: "Any problems, just come find me, Miss Chase." Annabeth nods, and he turns back to everyone. "See you in an hour, students."

"Poor man," Thalia says conversationally as he wheels out of the doors, "sounds like he really had a frog in his throat."

The library doors close on Brunner's laugh.

As soon as the door closes behind Mr Brunner's wheelchair, Annabeth slips off the desk in one fluid motion. "All right," she says. "I'll split you into groups to help around the library. I will be checking around to make sure that you're all behaving and no one leaves before five o'clock."

"Surprised she can all her backflips with such a huge stick up her ass," Thalia mutters.

The only thing that betrays Annabeth having heard her is the way her hands clench infinitesimally around the sign-up sheet in her hands. She doesn't say anything, though, instead starts reading out names, instructing every five to do something else around the library, like labelling books or sorting returns. Percy's honestly kind of surprised there's that much to do; clearly he underestimated the skills required to run a library at all.

He, Thalia and Will get put together in reorganising the bookshelves. It's the biggest job there is, considering Annabeth wants it done by genre as opposed to alphabetically like it is now, and he's pretty sure that was intentional. Some sort of payback for Thalia's comment, probably, which Thalia herself doesn't fail to notice; she narrows her eyes, and Annabeth merely raises an eyebrow in return.

"Is there a problem?" she says lightly.

Thalia's expression somehow gets even more pinched. "No."

"What if we don't know the genre?" Will says.

"Then read the book."

She spins on her heel and struts off to the other side of the room. Will gapes at her retreating form.

Despite her previous statement, Annabeth obviously can't be everywhere at once, and as the minutes tick by more and more people begin to sneak out. By four, Percy's pretty sure the amount of people who were here initially has at least halved in size – not that he can necessarily blame them, to be fair. He never realised quite how monotonous library work could be. He, Thalia and Will excavated an entire shelf but he got stuck trying to decide whether a fantasy adventure novel should end up in the fantasy or adventure section. Will, meanwhile, has seemingly given up, and sorts them depending on how much he likes the front covers.

It's just passed four, the sun beginning to slink down the sky, Thalia having made a break for it half an hour ago. The sorting method has evolved to Will reading out a title and Percy making a guess.

"The Magician's Nephew," Will says.

"Murder mystery."

Will squints at the cover. "I'm thinking fantasy," he says, eventually, and throws it onto the murder mystery pile anyway. "Okay, next... Jekyll and Hyde?"

"Definitely romance."

"Definitely," Will agrees. There's a thud as he throws the book into its respective pile. "Okay, that's it."

Percy sits up from where he was lying on the ground. "That's it?"

"Don't get your hopes up," Will says, grimly. "Just the shelf. We still have about thirty left to do."

Percy groans and falls back down.

"You need to get the books this time. They're on the aisle over."

"Pretty sure Hell would be better than this," Percy says, but he begrudgingly pushes himself to his feet. "Fine. Give me a minute."

He troops around the row of shelves, dragging his feet as he goes. He's just considering how the hell he's going to go back bringing back three dozen books with nothing but his hands when, up ahead, shelving a stack of book returns, he spots Annabeth. She is stood with her back to him on her tiptoes, craning to nudge a book onto the top shelf with the tips of her fingers, and from where he's stood Percy can see it's about to fall. He glances around, he's alone, and makes a snap decision.

He approaches her. She hasn't noticed him, still straining upwards, so he steps so he's bracketing her body and reaches up, pushing the book for it.

She startles when make contact, almost jerking straight into the bookshelf, but when she turns around and sees who it is her expression settles. "Percy."

"Hey," he says. He decides to risk it, and steps even closer, until she has her back to the bookshelf, his arms bracketing her against it. Her eyes flicker with panic, glancing over his shoulder. "Relax," he says, when he senses her unease. "No one ever comes back here, anyway."

"I do!" Annabeth says, sounding a little affronted, and it's so cute Percy kisses the tip of her nose.

"That's because you're a nerd," he says, and then leans in and kisses her properly. It's only a few seconds before Annabeth pushes at his chest and squirms away from him.

"Percy, seriously!" she hisses. "We can't, what if someone sees?"

"No one is gonna see," Percy says. She is still tense, so he rolls his eyes. "Thalia left twenty minutes ago through the fire escape, and the others are still labelling books. It's just us."

Percy leans in to kiss her again, and finally she deflates with a little sigh, folding her arms around his neck as his hands slip around her waist. When he pulls away, she exhales heavily, and her hands fall to his shoulders. She licks her lips. "You taste of smoke," she says, her voice still a little breathless.

He can't help the grin. "Does it bother you?"

"It's gross."

"Because you know I'll stop if you ask. Anything for you."

It's mostly said to get on her nerves. Predictably, she sneers at him. "Don't be cute."

"I mean, if you're so concerned about my health—"

"Stop talking," she says, and pulls him into another kiss with the lapels of his jacket. She's never said anything, but Percy knows she thinks the leather jacket is hot. He'd maybe be a bit embarrassed about the fact that he'd chosen to wear it today, knowing she'd be doing department inspections, if he didn't also have a sneaking suspicion that she'd purposely left the cheerleading uniform on because she knew they'd see each other at detention. Just for that, he uses his hands around her waist to pull her even closer, almost crushing her against the bookcase, but she doesn't seem to mind: in fact, the enthusiastic hum against his mouth suggests quite otherwise.

Percy pulls away with a small gasp, as Annabeth starts trailing kisses down the side of his neck. "So," he says, trying not to sound as breathless as he feels, "you, uh... want to get out of here, maybe go on a real date?"

To his dismay, Annabeth pulls away from his throat with a soft pop, and gives him a look.

He tries to look blasé. "What?"

"We've spoken about this."

"Are you not free? Because I can do tomorrow."

Annabeth gives him a mildly exasperated look. "Percy. Seriously."

"What's the problem?"

"You know what the problem is."

"Not really." She's still giving him an unimpressed look, so he runs his hands reassuringly up and down her side. "Seriously, Annabeth. What's stopping us? I think you're hot, you think I'm hot—"

"You know we can't. What would people think?"

"They'd think that I have a really hot girlfriend."

"I'm student body president."

"Fine," he amends, "that I have a really hot student body president girlfriend."

Annabeth rolls her eyes, but he doesn't miss the smile fighting at the edge of her lips. "Percy."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," he says. He reaches forward, twirls one of the loose curls that must have escaped her ponytail during practice. "How about tomorrow?"

"I'm busy."

"After school, then."

"Studying."

He gives her a look. "On a Friday night?"

"You'd be surprised."

"Never about you, baby," he says, and doesn't miss the way Annabeth's expression softens before he kisses her again. They kiss for a few more moments before she pushes at his chest.

"Percy, seriously."

He knows when he's pressed enough. He lifts his hands and moves away. "Okay, I get it. Hands off."

She gives a look as she steps away, rearranging her cheer uniform. Unknowingly, she steps into a square of sunlight coming from one of the windows near the ceiling. In it her hair glints white and amber, like spindled gold. He can see the dust from the bookshelves swirl in the air around her; it makes her look almost ethereal, like a fairy from a painting. Oblivious, she dusts herself down, straightens her skirt. "How do I look?"

"Beautiful," he says.

She gives him a look.

Percy leans against the bookshelf, arms folded. He raises an eyebrow at her unimpressed stare. "What do you want me to say? Ugly? You always look amazing."

"Don't be cute," Annabeth says. She smooths the stray hairs that had escaped her ponytail. "It doesn't suit you."

"Everything suits me."

Annabeth scoffs. "Okay," she says, but Percy doesn't miss how she doesn't deny it.

He smiles as he watches her gather the rest of the books and puts them on the trolley. "If you don't want to go on a date can we at least keep making out?" he says, hopefully.

She shoots him a coy look over her shoulder. "Get back to work, Jackson."

---

"There's a party tonight," Thalia says as soon as Percy picks up the phone. "We're going."

Percy has been friends with Thalia long enough to be used to these non-sequiturs. He's learnt that she doesn't like to waste her time with pleasantries, which is a nice reprieve from the faked niceties at school from the rest of the student body: it's part of the reason why they're friends at all. Still, he glances around to check he's alone, and tucks the phone closer to his ear, leaning against the wall. "Do I even get a say in this?"

"You're telling me you don't want to go to a party?"

She has him there. Still, Percy protests, "What if I had plans?"

"Right, I forgot, your date with Annabeth Chase – oh, wait."

Percy rolls his eyes as Thalia cracks up laughing at her own joke over the line. "I'm going to hang up," he threatens half-heartedly.

"You'd never hang up on me," Thalia says. "You enjoy hearing my voice too much."

"Debatable."

"You also enjoy seeing my face. Which you can do, at the party."

Lightly, Percy says, "I can also do that on school on Monday."

"Oh, come on! What happened to you, party-boy? It'll be fun."

From the background of her line, Percy hears someone call, "Thalia, hurry up! I need to use the phone."

"Give me a minute, Jason!" Thalia yells back, so loudly Percy has to hold the phone away from his ear. In a normal speaking voice, she says, "The party's at Piper McLean's place, starts at eight. You'll be there."

Percy scrubs a hand across his face, leaning his shoulder against the wall. "I'm really not in the party mood right now, Thalia."

"Just come for an hour," she pleads. "For me?"

Percy sighs. On one hand, it's been a really long day. He'd gotten back an exam from Brunner, and completely bombed it, and it was an exam he'd really studied for as well. What's more, he'd promised his mom he'd have dinner with her, but when he'd gotten home she'd been peaky, with dark bags under her eyes, and had apologised profusely because, "I'm so sorry, Percy, I know we were meant to have dinner, but I need to get this assignment in tomorrow." He'd never been more proud of his mom when she'd got accepted into college – except now, with their respective schedules, with his mom working and studying, and Percy spending half the day at school and the other half probably smoking in a park with Thalia, they maybe see each other for ten minutes a day.

But, on the other – it is a party.

"Fine," he allows, finally.

Thalia cheers. "Yes!"

"Just for an hour," Percy warns.

Thalia waves him off. "Yeah, yeah! We'll go in together. Meet you by the train station, eight-thirty?"

"Sounds good."

"See you then."

The line goes dead.

Percy sighs, and looks at the inert phone in his hand. Looks like he's going to a party, then.

He hangs the phone back in its cradle and creeps along the hallway to his room. As he moves, he passes the living room, and through the doorway he can see his mom asleep, hunched over the table, her head pillowed on one of her textbooks. He pauses, chewing his lip, and then hesitantly takes a few steps forward into the room. He hasn't stopped to properly look at her for a while. He didn't remember the bags under her eyes being so dark.

Percy creeps further into the room, dimming the lights, and picking up the blanket from where it's strewn across the couch. Gently, he lays it over her prone body, tucking it over her shoulders; briefly, he hesitates, and then leans forward and kisses her forehead. She doesn't even shift.

"Love you, Mom," he says quietly.

He straightens, and then heads out of the room, grabbing his jacket from the counter and slipping into it. He grabs his keys, his lighter, and slips through the front door.

Before he can close it behind him properly, he pauses, glancing back over his shoulder. Then he shakes his head, shuts it, and heads for the station.

The party is in full swing when they arrive.

As soon Percy steps through the front door and feels the thrum of the bass reverberate through his body, all of his previous reservations immediately vanish. Despite everything, Percy loves parties: he loves the dancing, the drinking, the music. In the gloom of someone's darkened living room, the sideboards littered with plastic cupboards, the music cranked so loudly he can't even think, he never feels freer.

Well, that, and the fact that he can get raging drunk.

Thalia detaches from his side almost as soon as they walk inside, disappearing with a group of girls with the same coloured streaks in their hair up the stairs to smoke pot. Percy's never really been a weed person – the cigarettes are enough for him, and just imagining the disappointed look on his mom's face is enough to ward him off for life – so he's unbothered, just waving her goodbye and heading deeper into the room in search of alcohol. Thalia had promised him free booze and he'll be damned if he doesn't cash in on it.

The clock in above the mantle says it's only around nine pm, but the living room is already filled to the brim. Percy pushes through the crush of dancing bodies for one of the rec tables against the table, lined with solo cups and a copious amount of liquor. He pours himself a generous cup of beer, toasts Nico from his Trig class who's chugging whiskey straight from the bottle next to him, and downs the entire thing in one go.

He doesn't know how long he's stood there, drinking, when a girl he recognises as one of Thalia's stoner friends grabs his hand and drags him to the dance floor. There's a loud acid house track on play, one that has the house around him trembling, but he loves it: he allows himself to be dragged, moves with her, lets the music carry him.

And then he spots Annabeth.

She's dancing with some girls he recognises the cheer squad and student council, her head thrown back in laughter. He's always thought of her as beautiful but in the strobe light she's almost otherworldly, her blonde hair loose around her shoulders instead of in a ponytail, her throat and arms white in the darkness: magnetic. Their entire relationship is built upon getting each other undone but he's never seen her like this before, loose and free and uninhibited. Percy can't bring his eyes away from her.

The song changes, and Annabeth says something in one of her friends' ear before heading off the dance floor towards the kitchen. Percy sees his chance and starts after her, pushing his way through the crowd, and reaches the kitchen only a few moments after her.

It's surprisingly empty for such a large party, just a boy asleep on the kitchen sill with a dick drawn on his face. Percy has to crack a smile at that. (He's only human.) Annabeth has her back to him, filling her plastic solo cup with water from the tap, humming along absently to the song, shimmying her shoulders a little.

Percy slides up next to her, leaning against the counter. "Annabeth Chase," he drawls, and Annabeth's head jerks up. "Didn't expect to find you here."

Her expression smooths over when she sees it's him. She just raises an eyebrow, amused. "Is that a line?"

"Do you want it to be?" he says, and she rolls her eyes, turning back to the tap to hide her smile. He leans back, putting himself in her eyeline, and when she looks up at him, he feigns nonchalance, folding his arms. "Thought you'd be at home 'studying'."

Her expression freezes, and something almost like guilt flashes in her eyes, but it's gone so fast Percy isn't sure if he just imagined it. She switches off the tap. "What can I say?" she says. "I'm full of surprises."

She tries to get past him, but Percy blocks her path. She could've easily pushed past him, but she allows herself to be stopped, flicking her eyes up to meet him with an exasperated look, though her eyes are sparkling.

"Excuse me," she says pointedly.

"Cold shoulder?" he says. "Careful, Chase. You could give a guy a complex."

Annabeth gives him a dry look. "And what a tragedy that would be," she says. "Can I get past?"

"I don't know, can you?"

"Ooh, dad jokes, that's a first."

"Need to make myself stand out from all your potential suitors, somehow." Percy plucks her cup out of her hand, takes an experimental sniff. "Did you mix something in this?"

She raises an eyebrow. "Just water. Why? 'You'll have what I'm having'?"

"Just wanted to make sure you weren't drunk," Percy says, and places the cup on the counter next to him. "So I don't feel guilty for doing this."

He leans in for a kiss, but Annabeth turns her head away before their lips can make contact. He pulls away, confused. She's not meeting his eyes.

"Is everything okay?" he says. "No one's looking."

He tries again, but she properly squirms out of his grip this time. "No, Percy, we can't."

"Why not?"

Her eyes flicker, around the kitchen, over his shoulder, but not at him. She won't meet his eyes. She licks her lips, and leans in close so he can hear. "My friends are beginning to get suspicious," she says in a low voice.

"About what?"

"About us."

Percy is still a little confused at what the big deal. is. "Okay... so?"

"So?"

She's looking at him like he's being purposely obtuse. He thinks she's just being cute so he steps nearer, puts his around her waist. "Did you want to tell them yourself?"

"Tell them what?"

He smiles, gently pokes her temple. "Aren't you meant to be the smart one? What's with all these questions?"

But now the look in her eyes has changed a little. "Percy..."

"Because, you know, it's been a few months, and my mom kind of wants to meet you—"

"Percy—"

"What?"

She opens and closes her mouth, like she's trying to find a way to verbalise what she's about to say. Her hands find her way to his upper arms, gently, and suddenly Percy feels his stomach begin to drop: because she doesn't look like she's about to tell him anything good. "I," she begins, carefully, "I think... I think there's been a misunderstanding."

"Did I get the wrong girl? Do you have a twin?"

Her eyes are pleading. "Please don't make me say it."

"Say what?"

She breaks eye contact with him, letting out a harsh breath. She squeezes his arms, her thumb gently moving back and forth across the fabric of his shirt sleeve. "You know... you know that this is just casual, right? Between us?"

"Of course I do."

"No, Percy, you don't. You don't..." She breaks off, frustratedly, lifts a hand off his arm to rake it through her long blonde hair. The place it rested burns white-hot. "My friends can't know, okay? I can't meet your mom. We're not... we're not together, don't you get that?"

Percy stares at her. The music suddenly fades out to nothing but static, and the sip of beer he'd taken ten minutes ago turns sour on his tongue. "I..."

"This was just—a consensual hook-up exchange between us. I thought you knew that, I thought—" Her voice cracks a little. "I thought that's what we agreed on, at the beginning. No strings. I wouldn't have even offered if I thought—"

"Thought what?"

"I don't want a relationship, Percy."

Percy shakes his head. He feels off-kilter, like the floor is spinning beneath his feet. "But... but I..."

"I thought that's what we agreed on."

"We did."

But he thought there was more. He thought that somewhere along the four months they'd been sneaking kisses in cupboards and under the bleachers that she'd felt the shift, too, the moment nothing other than surface-level attraction had bloomed into something deeper. He can't have been making it up, not after all that's happened between them.

He lifts his gaze, a little jaggedly. Annabeth is watching him with wide, searching eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"You're ashamed of me," he says, in realisation. He feels off-kilter. The words taste like sawdust in his mouth. "That's... that's why you never told anyone."

"It was just hooking up."

"Hooking up doesn't mean only kissing me when other people aren't around, Annabeth."

She flinches like he's struck her. He's hit the nail on the head.

Suddenly he just feels so, so tired.

"You just don't understand," she whispers.

"You're right," Percy says. "I don't."

He steps back. Everything feels too loud. He needs to get out of here.

Annabeth finally looks up and meets his eyes. He doesn't know what he looks like but if it's as bad as he feels then it can't be good; whatever she sees makes her face crease in confusion. "Percy..." she says.

"I'm gonna go," he says.

"Wait, Percy—"

She grabs his arm, and he shakes her off. "Don't," he says. "Please, don't."

Annabeth's eyes flicker as she stares up at him. Finally, she lets go. "Okay," she says softly. "Okay."

He can't stand here and look at her face anymore. He needs to get out. He turns, throws his cup in the trash, and heads for the door. Before he can leave, he hears Annabeth say, "Percy."

He knows he shouldn't. But he's always been glutton for punishment. He turns around.

She's still stood by the sink, but there's something unreadable, something almost imploring in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispers.

"Yeah," Percy says. "Me, too."

And then he's gone.

The walk home is long and miserable. A light drizzle started up at some point when he was inside, and it splatters his clothes, not enough to be soaked to the bone, but enough that they're uncomfortably damp against his skin, chafing the collar of his shirt around his neck. He keeps his head down, eyes on the pavement, one of his hands slowly, methodically turning the lighter around in his pocket. His head pounds, like he's still at the heartbeat of the house track, feeling it ring through his whole body.

We're not together, don't you get that?

How could he have been so stupid?

All the evaded dates, the twitchiness, the meetings under the bleachers all come back to him with startling clarity. He'd played it like an ongoing joke, a secret between the two of them, something naughty and special that they'd kept just between them because it was something they couldn't put into words, it was something bigger than words.

Sure, it had started as just something casual. Friends with benefits, he remembers Annabeth proposing, when the first party hook-up they'd both brushed off as a drunken mistake happened again. I don't want a relationship. And Percy had agreed, because it's not like he wanted one, either, especially not with queen bee Annabeth Chase – but she was hot, and willing, and so he'd thought, why not?

But he knows he's not making up what started growing between them, he knows he's not. It's not like the sex was just great either (although it was). They'd told each other things, curled up on the grotty couch that had somehow ended up under the bleachers. Some of the things Percy had told Annabeth were things he'd never told anyone, not even Thalia: ugly things, stuff about Gabe and his real dad and the resentment he still holds towards both of them that he carries like a festering wound. And Annabeth... she'd told him things, too. About the jagged line between her stepmom that two new brothers couldn't fix, her crippling perfectionism, the fear of never being good enough. They'd gotten tipsy off apple ciders and made out in bathroom stalls and in empty classrooms, and he thought that every time Annabeth dodged a date, she was just playing hard to get. Thought that whenever she started getting paranoid about someone coming in, that she was just protecting their thing. Keeping it between them, like something precious and rare, something tangible only to them.

Percy's not a wuss. But to know that all means nothing to her?

It hurts. It really hurts.

He lets himself in with his key when he gets home, trying to be as quiet as he can as to not disturb his mom, who is probably still asleep in the living room. But then he accidentally steps on the creaky floorboard by the door, and grimaces as it echoes through the otherwise silent apartment. From the living room, there's the rustle of a blanket, and then, after a pause: "Percy, honey? Is that you?"

Shit. Carefully, he pads across the floor and gently pushes open the door. She is still hunched over the table, blinking her eyes in the low light of the streetlamps. "Hey, mom," he says softly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

She blinks at him drowsily, and then sits up, stretching her arms with a yawn. "Oh, no, no, don't worry. I shouldn't have fallen asleep here, my shoulders are going to be hell tomorrow." She stretches as she speaks, wincing as there's a faint pop as all her joints realign, and then rubs at one of her eyes. "Goodness, it got dark all of a sudden. What time is it?"

"Just past half nine."

"Nine?" For the first time, she realises what he is wearing. "Did you just come home?"

"Uh, yeah. I was out at a party."

"Why are you home so early? Don't tell me you're beginning to become responsible and have your parties finished by sundown."

Percy huffs out a small laugh. "Uh, no. I just felt tired."

"Okay." His mom smiles at him, sleep-warm. "Did you go with your friend? What's her name... Annabelle?"

"Annabeth."

"How's she? Did you ask her about dinner like I keep telling you too?"

Percy bites the inside of his cheek so hard he feels it split between his teeth. Iron fills his mouth. "Uh, no. I didn't."

"Why not? I've been waiting for you to introduce us for a while."

"We, uh. We're not really... together."

Her face falls. "Oh, honey. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. It was just... it was nothing."

"It sounded like you really liked her."

Percy can't talk about this any longer. Abruptly, he straightens, patting the doorframe. "I'm really tired, Mom. I'm just gonna go to sleep."

She nods, face still creased in confusion, but she reaches out her hand, and he bridges the gap and takes it. Her fingers are covered in ink from her constant writing. "Okay, honey," she says softly. "Sweet dreams."

"Sweet dreams, Mom."

He turns and leaves the room, making a detour to the kitchen to drink a glass of water to alleviate the pounding in his head. It soothes the headache, but the tumultuous clouds brewing in his mind only seem to grow darker, so he just drains another glass and turns to go to his room, ready to burrow himself in his covers and hopefully forget just how stupid he's been.

On the way back, he passes by the living room again. Through the door, he sees his mom knuckling at her eyes with one hand as she uses the other to continue writing. He pauses for a moment, just watching her, and then turns away.

---

He spends the weekend in his room.

He only comes out to make himself some toast, which he barely manages to listlessly pick at, and then some tea when food won't go down his throat. Around midday on Saturday, Thalia rings, and his mom hesitantly knocks on his bedroom door to let him know, but he feigns sleep and doesn't respond, staring up at the ceiling. After a long moment of silence, he hears her footsteps move away from his door. "He's still asleep," she says softly into the receiver. "Maybe try again tonight."

By Monday, he still doesn't feel any better. He is half-tempted to beg him mom to let him stay at home, just stay curled up in his bed with eyes screwed tight and his arms tucked close against his chest to stop the remnants of his broken heart from falling out, but he knows that it'll only ultimately end up making him feel worse: he's spent too much time staring blankly at his wall thinking of Annabeth that one more second will actually drive him crazy.

Thalia greets him at the gate, as always, but as he approaches, she slides her sunglasses down her nose to frown at him. "Jeez," she says. "Who pissed in your cornflakes?"

"Good morning to you, too," Percy says. "Nice weekend?"

"Don't sass me now, Jackson. I'm still pissed at you for ignoring all my calls. What happened?"

"Funeral, would you believe."

"Yeah, right."

"If that were true you would have just looked like the world's biggest asshole."

"Lucky that spot's already reserved for the boy who ignored his best friend all weekend. Love me some Mama Jackson but the fact I heard her voice more than yours is criminal. What, did your underground drug operation go bust? Why can't you tell me?"

"What makes you think something's wrong?"

"Uh, because you look like death warmed over? I mean, did you get any sleep?"

No, not really. He thinks cumulatively across the entire weekend he managed to get ten hours. It's more than a little ironic considering he doesn't think he's ever spent so much time in bed.

"Loads," he says, instead. "Narcoleptic Percy they call me. Narcolepercy."

The sunglasses obscure most of her face, but even with them he can tell that she's giving him a withering look. "Percy."

"It's nothing. I'll be fine."

"Which is it? It's nothing, or you'll be fine?"

Percy scuffs his toe against the tarmac. "I'll be fine."

It's the most he's willing to let slip, and Thalia seems to get that, because though she still looks a little disgruntled, she finally acquiesces. "Still doesn't mean I'm forgiving you for ignoring me," she says, and links their arms together as they head into school. For the first time in days, Percy feels a genuine smile twitch at the edges of his mouth.

"Wouldn't expect anything less."

Thalia hip-checks him, nearly sending him into a pole. "Can I tell you my news now?"

"Does it have something to do with the sunglasses?"

Thalia adjusts them. "Maybe I'm wearing them because it's sunny."

Percy resists the urge to roll his eyes. Despite her whole anti-establishment, nonconformist gig, Thalia also has a theatrical gene that rears its jazzy head whenever she has something to share. Percy has been meaning to talk to her about how he thinks channelling her anger into something like improvisation classes would be extremely effective. "I can assure you it's not."

"Go on. Ask."

"What's your news."

"Thank you for taking a vested interest," she says, patting him on the chest. Percy realises that the purposeful withholding of information may not have been solely to create tension, but also for timing purposes – because now they walking are into school almost every eye has turned onto them. "So, Clarisse and I may have gotten into a little—confrontation, over the weekend. Which you would know if you picked up the phone."

"Confrontation?"

Thalia lifts her sunglasses, and for the first time Percy sees the huge angry bruise circling one of her eyes. "A punch or two may have been thrown."

"Thalia, holy shit."

"Pretty sick, huh?"

"You are such a hedonist."

"What is the meaning of life if not to relish the pleasures of every-day existence?" She drops the sunglasses. "You should see what she looks like."

"What did you do?"

"What makes you think I did anything?"

"Because I know you?"

"That's valid." Thalia waits until they're past a clump of freshman openly gawking like she's a zoo exhibit before she murmurs in his ear, "So, I may have slashed her tyres?"

"Are you serious?"

"She started it."

"How? You don't have tyres to slash!"

"She came after me with a switchblade, Percy. I could have had my eye out. Lucky I was smart and premeditated her move" – aka an underclassman told her; Percy has heard this one before – "and left through the back door before she could get me."

"When was this?"

"Friday, at the party. Didn't you hear about it?"

Percy ducks his head. "I left a little early."

Blessedly, Thalia doesn't latch onto this. "I just wanted to remind her how much damage a switchblade could do. You know, for safety."

"I'm sure that's how she understood it."

Thalia misses the sarcasm. "If anything, it was her fault for not seeing the lesson in that."

"So, what now? Did you duke it out and have now gone back to just glowering at each other?"

By now, they've pushed through the front doors and are heading down the hallway to their lockers. It's almost just as bad inside as it was outside, people whispering to each other as they pass. Although he knows it's impossible, Percy can't shake the irrational fear that it's not Thalia they're talking about, but that somehow news of he and Annabeth's relationship got around and they're laughing at him, at how stupid he was for falling in love with a girl who just saw him as an easy hook-up. It's not until he hears someone whisper, "Holy shit, she's about to get killed" that the gravity of the situation really hits, and he gives Thalia a significant wide-eyed look.

"Well?"

Thalia coughs. "Uh, not exactly."

Oh, God. "We're about to get murdered, aren't we? Clarisse is going to kill us right here."

"You can defend my honour!"

"I'm really not in mood for fighting today."

"Yeah, I can tell," Thalia says, but even she's beginning to look a little grey. "I mean, she got a decent hit in. We should be even."

She sounds more like she's convincing herself. Percy decides that if he emerges from today still alive and with all four limbs, he is immediately finding a new best friend.

Thankfully, they make it to Percy's locker without incident. Thalia's is further down the hall, but she loiters by him as he pulls out all his books for lessons he most likely won't be attending. She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't need to for Percy to realise that, for all her bravado, she's afraid. Thalia is by no means an easy match in a fight: she's wiry and feral-looking with a deceptively wicked right hook. But Clarisse is, if not stronger, certainly much, much bigger, and has three gorillas in her artillery, whereas Thalia only has Percy. Percy could probably take one, but three, and today?

He's pretty sure he's about to be beaten into a stain in the linoleum. Probably for the best Thalia doesn't separate herself from him lest Clarisse is lurking in the shadows waiting to get her alone.

"Hypothetically," he says, keeping his voice low, "do you think the switchblade is something Clarisse just carries with her on a day-to-day basis?"

"Probably," Thalia says, though her voice comes out in a croak. "What else will she use to kill crocodiles for her to eat?" There's a beat, and then she leans in, so close their temples are almost touching. "Besides, she's not the only one."

Percy stares at her. "You brought a—"

"Shh! Just in case."

"In case—? Thalia!"

"What? I'm protecting myself!"

"You know I was kidding, right? That I don't actually want to die today?"

"We're not going to kill each other."

"You brought knives."

"At least it's not a gunfight."

"Don't even joke about that."

Thalia opens her mouth, but before she can respond the entire hallway falls hushed. Percy's blood goes a little cold, and next to him he sees Thalia stiffen.

Neither of them have to look up to know who's just arrived.

"Well, well, well," says a voice, and Percy sends up a silent prayer before he turns around and comes face-to-face with Clarisse herself. Nothing Thalia could have said would've prepared Percy for the sight of her, bruised and battered, like she just hit herself in the face with a hammer. Using both ends. Both her eyes are swollen, her lip split, cheek flushed red with grazing and what distinctly looks like the imprint of one of Thalia's rings embedded, blue, in her jaw. "Look who finally showed her face."

"Morning, Clarisse," Thalia says. To her credit, she sounds a lot braver than Percy currently feels. "Nice weekend?"

Clarisse's lip curls. "Oh, you know. Here and there." For the first time, her gaze slides to Percy. Her eyes have always skirted the line between cruel and borderline psychopathic, but, with bruises swelling her eyelids almost fully closed, Percy thinks she's fully crossed it. "Aw, how sweet. You brought the boyfriend. Or, wait—weren't you a queer?"

Thalia's gaze hardens. Percy isn't sure what it is – maybe something reckless, angry at the tight line of Thalia's shoulders, or maybe something still hurt and smouldering from the broken glass left splintered between his ribs at the image of Annabeth's wide beseeching eyes in the kitchen, we're not together, don't you get that? – but he slams his locker closed and turns to look Clarisse directly in the eyes.

"Hey, Clarisse," he says. "You look well. Did you do something to your hair?"

Clarisse's face twists. "Oh, isn't this cute. Prissy managed to get his balls back from where Grace has them in a tighthold."

The gorillas snigger. Lightly, Percy says, "No, it's the outfit. I knew something was different about you."

Clarisse is evidently not amused with how he refuses to play along. Her eyes narrow, any hint of a sneering façade dropping. "You really don't want to cross me today, Jackson."

"Why? You gonna fight me too?"

"I suggest you step away before you get hurt. This has nothing to do with you."

"Then call off your friends. Or are you too much of a coward to fight her yourself?"

"Don't get brave. It would be such a shame to break your pretty face."

"Flattered, really, but you're not exactly my type. Into girls, remember?"

For a second, he thinks he has her. But then, after a long moment, her expression begins to change, from hard to something almost smug, and he feels his blood grow cold. Whatever this is, anything that makes Clarisse smile like that, in the way a shark gives before it bites, can't be good. "Really," she says. "And what would you say your type is, then, Percy Jackson?"

Percy feels his heart begin to beat a little faster. Where is she going? "Oh, Clarisse, I wouldn't want to hurt your feelings."

Clarisse's eyes narrow, but before she can respond, someone beats her to it.

"Hey! What's going on?"

Percy's heart drops into his shoes.

The crowd around them parts like the red sea, revealing none other than Annabeth. She's stood with her hands on her hips, frowning, hair in its usual ponytail, the blue of the ribbon securing it matching the blue of her sweater. It makes her eyes stand out even more. Unlike him, she doesn't look like death warmed over – instead, she looks the opposite. Percy knows that to her, their relationship meant nothing, that what went down in the kitchen was nowhere near as ruinous for her as it was for him – she even said so herself – but seeing the physical evidence of it, seeing her now, as normal and beautiful as always, feels like another blow to the part of him that has already gone numb.

"Oh, Annabeth," Clarisse says gleefully – too gleefully. Oh no. "Just the girl I wanted to see."

Annabeth isn't amused. "Step away, Clarisse."

"But we're just getting started."

"And if you lay a finger on either of them you'll very soon be getting finished. Step. Away."

"What makes you think I'm going to listen to you?"

"I'm the hall monitor."

Clarisse widens her eyes. "Gee whiz, the hall monitor."

Around them, the crowd nervously titters. Clarisse is no one's favourite person – in fact, Percy would bet a lot of money on her ranking in the bottom five for most of the school – but her reign of fear is well-established and unflinchingly rigid. Percy's seen her squash freshmen underfoot for bumping into her in the hallways. He thinks she only reason she can make such long trips to Earth from her residence on the throne of hell is because she feeds off fear like raw meat. Also probably raw meat.

Still, Annabeth's ears go a little pink, and for the first time she seems to falter. And that's when Percy can't bear it.

"Can you just shut up, Clarisse?" he says. "Don't you have, I don't know, remedial Math to be getting to?"

Annabeth glances at him. He keeps looking at Clarisse.

"Aw, cute," Clarisse says. "Standing up for both your girlfriends."

It's not directed – Clarisse calls everyone his girlfriend. The other day she called Will Solace his girlfriend after they'd waved hello to each other in the hallway.

But his blood still goes cold anyway.

"You know, I do wonder," Clarisse muses, "just how much you're getting laid, though. I mean, Dyke Grace isn't letting you into her pants anytime soon, and as small as your dick is you're definitely not fitting it in darling Annabeth Chase with that stick she keeps up her ass. But – and this is what's so interesting – is that that's certainly not what it looked like Thursday in the library—"

And Percy lunges.

He and Clarisse hit the lockers on the other side of the hall with a crash. Distantly he's aware of shouting, someone yelling, "Get a teacher!", another with "Go for the head!", and there are hands grabbing at his jacket trying to pull him back, but it's as though he's tunnel-visioned, the only thing in his sight Clarisse's beaten face and the beautiful, sacred thing between he and Annabeth in her mouth. He doesn't know how she found out – she must've seen them in the library together during detention, but God knows whether that was the only time – and as much as he'd like to shout it from the rooftops, as much as he'd kill to have everyone know, what happened between he and Annabeth was private and theirs.

And it's over, anyway. Annabeth wants nothing to do with him. The least he can do is try and make sure that her reputation was worth it.

He only gets in one good punch before he is forcefully pulled back, arms linked around his middle and another pair of hands at his shoulders. His vision clears, still frenzied, comes face-to-face with Annabeth herself for the first time, her grey eyes wide and panicked. Some of her hair has fallen out of her ponytail and now hangs in ringlets around her face, framing her open mouth and the afraid look in her face, and Percy wants nothing more than to put himself back in her arms – except he no longer has that right.

Forcibly, he shoulders his way out of her grip, turns in the circle of arms still around his waist. It's Thalia, her gaze somewhere over his shoulder, yelling obscenities as Clarisse presumably gets held back in a similar way a few feet away.

"All right, all right!"

That's a teacher now, Hephaestus, who teaches woodshop and is the reason for most of the fire alarm drills. Just as Clarisse lunges out of the grip of the two footballers holding back, Thalia nearly throwing herself over Percy's shoulder to get to her, he's suddenly in between them, holding his hands out, keeping them apart. For a wiry old man, he's damn strong, and Percy manages to wrestle Thalia down as Hephaestus keeps Clarisse from pummelling them into the ground.

"Everyone, clear out!" he shouts. "Get to class! You—" He points at Clarisse, who is still frothing at the mouth and snorting like a rhino. "You're coming with me."

Clarisse's mouth opens. "That's such bullshit, he started it—!"

"I don't give a rat's ass who started it! The rest of you, move! First period started five minutes ago."

Percy and Thalia keep their heads down as they scurry towards their classroom. Percy had no intention of attending this one – US History, snooze – but he's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, and he knows after this he's already going to be on thin enough ice without him bunking class, too. Still, as Clarisse gets bodily hauled away, still protesting, everyone buzzes, did you see that? He just attacked her! Percy can feel their eyes on him like they're lasers, but Thalia keeps her arm slung firm around his neck, glaring at anyone who dares get too close.

He doesn't know what to feel. He's never lashed out like that before – certainly not to Clarisse, who usually only has a bone to pick with him because he's Thalia-adjacent, and certainly not in front of people.

He just felt all-consumed in that moment. And why? He has no clue. He doesn't owe Annabeth anything – they broke up, they're not obliged to fight each other's battles. Who cares if people find out that they were hooking up? It's not like it's still happening.

Except... he knows that's not true. He knows that the reason he flung himself at Clarisse like that is because while he doesn't care, he knows Annabeth does. You're ashamed of me. He supposes it's something he's always known, deep down; he just preferred to keep himself in his own ignorance, fool himself into believing that the couch under the bleachers where no one could see was just a sexy place. (That should have been the first sign. It decidedly was not.) And while he's still hurt, still tender around the sides, still angry that he deluded himself into believing Princess Annabeth would ever accommodate him and his rough edges into her perfect life, he still cares about her. Enough that he'd throw himself at Clarisse so no one would find out.

He edges his way to his seat at the back of the room. Thalia plops in the seat next to him and gives a hairy eyeball to anyone who tries to get anywhere close. Even though he hates himself a little for it, his eyes are drawn to Annabeth as she comes in too, her head held high and her shoulders set back. She is the picture of confidence; only the slight wobble of her lip betrays that she is shaken at all. She sits down at the very front of the room, straight-backed, not meeting anyone's eyes as she unzips her bag.

Percy can see people looking between them. What was Clarisse about to say? Were they hooking up? He knows he should be careful, now, not throw any more fuel on the fire, but he can't help the way his eyes stay on her ponytail, the perfect curls she burns in every day tousled. He knows what her hair looks like when it's not been flat-ironed and twirled, how curly it really is, the frizzy fly-aways that always spring out around her face when she's working.

God.

Their teacher comes in, showing no evidence that he was aware of the fight that just took place, instead chirping out a hello and instructing everyone to turn to page thirteen of their textbooks. There is the shuffle of pages as everyone reaches down to retrieve their textbooks from their bags, their minds still stuck on what just happened, but Annabeth, whose textbook is already out and open to the correct page, instead turns and glances over her shoulder at Percy.

Her expression is concerned, though her eyes are calculating. She doesn't look away when he meets her eyes like he expected: instead, just holds his gaze. There is something pleading in her face, something almost desperate. Something that says, why did you do that? Why did you protect me when you owe me nothing?

Percy looks away.

He can't afford to hope now. Not after all that's happened.

---

Only it keeps happening.

They don't have many classes together, only US History and American Lit, but throughout them Annabeth keeps sneaking him glances, expression inscrutable, like she's trying to figure him out.

And it's driving him crazy.

The wound's still too raw for the instinct to search her out in every crowd to be beaten out of him, but it doesn't help that most of the time he glances over at her, remnants from the time she'd be looking back and would stick out her tongue and he'd blow her a kiss just because he knew how much she hated it, she's looking back, eyes curious, expression almost... longing. It's giving him emotional whiplash, to be honest, and there are some moments he just wants to stand up and shout, what do you want from me?

It's not even just in class. There have been a few moments in the rare times he and Thalia venture out to eat in the cafeteria when they don't particularly feel like eating asbestos for lunch that he's caught her staring at him across the room, only this time they feel more covert: because when he glances her away, she immediately looks away, continuing to chat to her friends.

What is she playing at?

He's not the only one who's noticed, either. The third time he catches her looking Thalia sees it too.

He should have seen it coming, to be honest. He's been too lucky this far keeping Annabeth and Thalia very firmly separated in his life.

"Are you ever gonna tell me what that's about?" Thalia says.

Percy plays dumb. "What?"

She points a fry in Annabeth's direction. "That. With Annabeth."

"It's nothing."

"She's been looking at you every ten seconds. Do you have rabies? You're legally obligated to tell me if you do."

"I don't have rabies."

Thalia narrows her eyes at her. "What's her motive here? Does she not like your hair cut? Do you think it morally offends her and whatever cult she belongs to that makes her wear sweaters like that?"

"I think the sweaters are cute."

Shit. Thalia raises her eyebrows.

"Objectively speaking," he hurriedly corrects, and crams his sandwich in his mouth so he doesn't have to respond. Clearly he underestimated Thalia's drive, however, because she maintains steady silent eye contact with him until he's swallowed.

"Well?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're lying to me and I don't like it."

"You lie to me all the time."

"Yeah, about whether or not I like your shirts. Not about Annabeth Chase."

"You don't like my shirts?"

"Don't change the subject."

"There's nothing going on between me and Annabeth. I swear."

Unfortunately, he's not lying. Thalia just rolls her eyes and steals the other half of his sandwich.

"Whatever," she says. "It'll come out eventually."

---

He should have known that something was up.

Clarisse had been too quiet since their fight in the hallway. In the days afterward, he had constantly been on his guard, ready for whenever she leapt out of any airing cupboards with a knife ready to exact her revenge, but she'd done nothing of the sort: in fact, the two times they had passed each other in the hallway, Clarisse hadn't even looked at him. Deep down, he'd ignorantly hoped that this meant she had taken the time to do some introspection and self-reflection, maybe go on a sabbatical to realign herself and rediscover what human empathy was.

He should have known that she was just biding her time. Someone like Clarisse would never self-reflect unless it was in a puddle of her enemy's blood.

It's been a long day, today, mostly due to the fact that Thalia is out sick, and in preparation for the upcoming pep rally the cheer team have been pulled out of lessons to do their routine so Annabeth is absent from class. Also, the night before, he'd climbed out of bed to get a glass of water during the night, and he'd paused outside to the kitchen to see his mom sat at the table, piled with bills, head in her hands. He's known that she's been pretty stressed recently, what with balancing her recent promotion at work and her studies, and now Percy himself (the bruise on his face had been nothing compared to the look on her face when he came home after the fight) but he hadn't realised the extent until he saw how many bills they were behind on, how much she had left to do in the absence of Gabe. Percy's head has been in the clouds all day, merely drifting from class to class; even the refuse of the terrapin seemed like a waste of time when he didn't have Thalia with him to roll cigarettes and make jokes.

What it means is that on the way back from school, hands in his pockets, meandering down the street, he's not at his most alert. Mostly he's wondering what he's going to scrounge together for dinner, whether or not he needs to run to the grocery store and try to pull in any more favours from the owner to get the food in the clearance section for free.

And then:

"Jackson."

Shit. Not today.

Percy closes his eyes briefly before he slowly turns around to see Clarisse and her three cronies stood in front of him, expressions mean. Clarisse is turning something around in her hand, over and over, and Percy's blood goes cold when he sees it's her switchblade.

"Clarisse," he says weakly. "Afternoon."

She smirks. "Prissy."

"I didn't know you lived around here."

"Just passing through."

Percy's tongue feels too big for his mouth. "Paying me a visit?"

"Something like that." Her switchblade gleams.

She knows he's seen it. Her grin goes a little wicked, and his mouth dries.

"What? Afraid? Where's that fire I saw the other day?" She looks around. "Don't see your pet around here."

He's not sure if she means Annabeth or Thalia. "I'm just trying to get home."

"And the other day I was just trying to get to class." A step forward. "Funny what happened then, huh? Protected by the school and by the teachers and your precious hall monitor." Another step. "They're not here now, are they?"

"Clarisse—"

"I was suspended for three days," she says, her voice suddenly dropping low and venomous. "I'm in detention for two months and this is going on my permanent record. You know how much this screws up? You think colleges are gonna think highly of that?"

"Didn't peg you as the college type."

"And I didn't peg you for a quivering pansy, but here we are." Another step. "What? Aren't you gonna run at me again? Go on, I dare you."

"Clarisse, please," Percy says. "Not today. Just let me go."

Clarisse's grin turns positively feral. "No. I don't think so."

And that's when she throws the first punch.

It's not a fair fight, so it's not a long one either. Clarisse and her gorillas have him surrounded on all sides, and it's still early enough that no one has left for work yet, so he's all alone. He gets in one swing before they swarm him, pinning his arms behind his back and wrestling him to the ground.

He thinks, if I die, at least it's on a main road.

One kicks at his face; Percy turns his head just in time to avoid getting his nose crushed, but he does get an eyeful of gravel and he thinks his lip splits too. Another holds his arms, pins him down with a knee to the back, as a third aims for the leg, hard enough that his ankle gives out with a shudder that moves all the way up his leg. He thinks he loses a little time with how hard his head hit the concrete going down, vision fuzzy enough that he only registers all the blows like they're coming from different rooms, enough that he isn't sure how long he lies there, bleeding and broken as they all take turns on him. It could as easily only be a couple of minutes as it could be an hour; all he knows is that, as he fogs in and out of consciousness, he hears Clarisse's voice low and vicious in his ear: "Now we're even."

He barely has the thought that he'd hardly call this even before everything goes black.

When he comes too again, he's no longer lying in the road but in an alleyway, far enough out of view that passers-by can't see him unless they're searching him out. He blearily blinks opens his eyes, wincing as he disrupts the bruising that's no doubt already started to purple on his face. His left eye doesn't open naturally; he has pull it, and when he pulls his fingers back they're covered in blood.

Fantastic.

It's not dark enough to be late; he reckons he was only out for a few minutes if he's still able to move and think. Can he move? He wiggles his fingers; thankfully, they're still moving. He tries it with the other hand, and then all ten of his toes, just making sure everything's still intact. After he's certain his brain hasn't taken any significant damage, he manages to pull himself into a seated position, groaning as his ribs let out a warning ache, taking note of his surroundings. The street outside the alley is familiar enough – this is only a few minutes away from where he was.

But... he can't go home like this. His mom is already stressed enough as it; if he shows up like this, beaten and bloody, he doesn't know how she'll react, and it'll be just another thing for her to worry about. The school probably won't be open any longer, either, which is normally where he goes to patch himself up on the occasions he and Thalia have gotten into skirmishes before.

Wait – Thalia.

It wouldn't be the first time he's taken refuge at her place. It's been a while, mostly because he would usually crash on the blow-up mattress during the time when Gabe was still around and he couldn't be at home any longer, and these days Thalia spends more time on his bedroom floor, anyway, what with her constantly picking fights whenever she's bored enough that she needs to run from. But she's got a big house, and it's probably filled with supplies for him to fix himself up.

With a groan, he pushes himself to his feet. He briefly takes inventory: his ankle is throbbing ominously, legs shaky, and his side hurts like a bitch. Still, no stab wounds as far as he can feel, though he can taste his split lip and he knows that his temple is bleeding from where they pressed him into the pavement. Nothing seems broken, but everything certainly feels bruised.

Okay. That's okay.

The walk is excruciating. Whatever he's done to his ankle, he knows limping on it for half an hour certainly is not helping, and every step seems to only make it worse. His breath rattles between his teeth, shuddering between his ribs like it's fighting to escape, and it becomes increasingly laboured the further he moves. He can see the few people out and about giving him looks as he passes, so he ducks his head, pulling his hood over his head to shield his face the best he can, and focuses on moving.

He'll be there soon.

Forty minutes later, he drags himself to her front door. While absent for most of the year, Thalia's father is also hugely affluent, which the house itself makes no secret of: the steps are wide and marble, and the front door is twice the size of him with knockers he is pretty sure are made of solid gold. With all his effort, he raps twice, and then leans against the side of the porch, cradling a hand around his ribs. Experimentally, he tugs up the hem of his shirt, catches sight of bruising so dark his skin has turned purple, and then drops it with a wince.

Shit. He's not sure how much of this he's gonna be able to cover up.

From within, a voice calls, "Coming!" But it doesn't sound like it belongs to Thalia or her brother Jason, who should be the only two people in. Percy's just wondering if they got a new housekeeper after Thalia scared the last one away when the door creaks open, and standing in it is—

"Annabeth?"

Is he hallucinating? Maybe he hit his head so hard he's beginning to see things. Surely she can't be here. Why would she be here?

But then the Annabeth standing in the doorway, the one still wearing her cheer uniform, ponytail sagging down the back of her head, cheeks flushed – the very, very real-looking Annabeth – says, sounding just as surprised as he feels, "Percy?"

Either his hallucination is incredibly realistic or she's actually standing there.

He can't decide which one would be worse.

"Hey," he says.

Her face flickers with indecision, gaze flitting from his eyes to the scrape on his temple and the cut on his lip and then back again. "What happened?"

"Is Thalia home?"

"Why?"

He can't help the voice his voice gets a little sharp. "We're madly in love. Is she here?"

Her face somehow becomes even more pinched, but she doesn't say anything more, just bounces her leg. "No. She and Jason went out to get a new fire hydrant. I'm doing a project with him."

Perfect. Just perfect. "Great," he mutters.

Annabeth cuts her eyes at him. "What is?"

"Did they say when they'll be back?"

"They left only a few minutes ago."

And who knows how long they'll be gone for. On the surface, Thalia and Jason may look like polar opposites, but beneath Jason's polo shirts and glasses and Thalia's excessive eyeliner they are two sides of the same coin. No doubt they'll get distracted by something along the way. He has half a mind to tell Annabeth that she may as well leave now because they're not gonna be back for a long time.

"What happened?" she says again. "You're bleeding."

She makes a half-aborted move towards him like she's meaning to touch his lip, but then her hand freezes in the air, and she drops it with an embarrassed cough.

"Sorry," she mutters, after an extended pause.

Percy bites back the impulse to tell her it's okay. "I just... had a run in."

"With... Clarisse?" Annabeth's eyebrows knit together. "She did this to you?"

"And three other guys."

"Four people? That's not fair."

"I don't think she cares."

"Was it... was it for last week? At the lockers?"

After a long pause, Percy nods.

Annabeth looks furious. "But—that had nothing to do with you. It was between her and Thalia, you were just—"

She stops abruptly.

Just protecting me.

Percy snorts humourlessly. "Yeah, well. Don't think Clarisse cares very much about sportsmanship. Can I come in?"

Annabeth hesitates. "It's not my house."

"Annabeth, please—" At that moment, his ribs let out another warning pang, and he breaks off, trying to swallow a grimace, curling his hand more tightly around them. He's beginning to reconsider his prior assessment of no broken bones. "I just need to grab something, and then I'm gone."

Annabeth's expression flickers with indecision, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth. Finally, she exhales, and steps outside. "Fine," she says. "But I'm fixing you up before you go."

She turns on her heel and starts towards the bathroom. For a few moments, all Percy can do is stare dumbly at her retreating back, before he shakes his head and quickly limps after her. "What?"

When he makes it to the bathroom, Annabeth is already crouched on the floor, peering through the cabinets under the sink, eyes furrowed. He has to stop and lean against the doorframe to lift the weight off his damaged ankle, breathing hard, ribs protesting at the sudden movement, and at the noise Annabeth glances up. "I'm cheer captain," she says. "I have first-aid training." She turns back to the cabinet. Half to herself, she murmurs, "Jason should have a first-aid kit here somewhere..."

"Top cupboard," Percy says.

Annabeth throws him a glance over her shoulder, but she stands up and opens the cupboard above the sink, retrieving the kit from the bottom shelf. "Sit," she says, and so, shoulders aching in protest, Percy hoists himself up onto the counter. She steps in the vee of his legs, balancing the kit in his lap as she unzips it.

"You don't have to," Percy tries.

She silences him with a look. "You'd just get it infected," she says, and pours something onto a cotton pad. "Peroxide. This is gonna hurt."

It does hurt, and like a bitch, but Percy bites his tongue so he doesn't let it show as Annabeth dabs at the cut on his temple. Like this, their faces mere inches apart; he can see all the blue flecks in her eyes, the mascara on her lashes. She is consciously avoiding eye contact, keeping her gaze solely just above his eyebrow, but when she's finished, dropping the cotton pad on the counter and dipping a new one in peroxide, their eyes meet briefly as she looks back up.

"Your, uh," she says, so close he can feel her breath. "Your lip."

He tries to focus on anything other than her and her gentle fingers as she cleans his split lip, tsking a little under her breath when she gently brushes out a piece of gravel still caught in it. The hand towels on the other side of the room are distraction enough. Are they new? He should ask Thalia about them.

After what feels like an age, but realistically can't have been longer than a minute or two, she steps back a little, surveying his face. He tries for a wry smile, but it pulls at his lip and he winces.

"Everything else should be fine," she says, finally. "Do they have polysporin?"

"I don't think so."

She digs through the kit, produces a tub of petroleum jelly. "This should be good enough," she says. "Hold still."

He sits as still as he can as she steps back into his space, the edges of her waist touching his thighs. He can feel her breath on the side of his face as she gently smooths the petroleum jelly over the scrape on his temple; keeps his eyes firmly fixed on the handtowels.

"So," he says finally. "Are we gonna talk about it?"

Annabeth's voice is clipped. "About what?"

"Think you know what, Annabeth."

There is a long pause, and then she exhales. She doesn't move until she has slicked up his lip too, their eyes meeting for a brief moment, and then she snaps the tub shut and takes a step back until she can lean against the hand towel rack. There goes his distraction, he guesses.

She still doesn't say anything, though, just crosses her arms tightly across her chest.

Percy raises an eyebrow. "Well?"

Her face is conflicted. "I—I don't know."

"How about the reason you keep looking at me?"

"Percy—"

"Because I'm trying, Annabeth, okay? I'm trying to get over you—"

"I'm just—confused."

"About what?"

"You."

"Me?"

Her expression falters, and she grips her elbows so tightly he's surprised they don't shatter in her hands. When she speaks, her voice is so soft he almost doesn't hear her. "I made a mistake. That night in the kitchen."

Percy doesn't say anything.

"I thought—" Her voice wavers, and she straightens. "I thought that I was doing the right thing. I meant what I said. Or at least I thought I did. I thought that all we were was just... friends with benefits, or however you want to call it, but I never wanted to hurt you. I—I guess I thought if we swore feelings out of it, it wouldn't be so complicated. But then I realised you liked me, and—"

"Yeah, okay," Percy says. There is something inexplicable rising in his chest. "I know what happens next."

"No, but—" She lets out a frustrated noise. "You don't, because..."

"Because?"

"Because in the month we haven't spoken I—I missed you. A lot."

Percy can't help the scoff. "It's a bit too late for that."

"I just never realised before because I couldn't—get over myself, and these stupid preconceived notions I had about you, and what you would do to my rep—"

"Please feel free to stop any time."

"It didn't hit me until we stopped talking that I—that I missed you. Not just having sex but I missed talking to you and hanging out. Like... things would happen, and I would instinctively catalogue them in my head as something I wanted to tell you about. I saw a dog last week in a pushchair wearing human clothes and I came into school and saw you by your locker and nearly came up to you tell you, except—except we didn't do that anymore. Because I pushed you away."

"Every time I tried to ask you out you said no."

"Because I thought I just liked you as—as a friend, I don't know. I thought you were being cute, or facetious—"

"I don't know what that means."

"—so I didn't ever really think about it seriously. And—if I did, I always told myself that it was better this way, with no feelings. No one gets hurt with no feelings. Light and breezy. No strings attached."

Percy watches her. "So what? Do you want us to start dating?"

Annabeth doesn't respond, but the tips of her ears go pink.

He powers on. "Because I'm not going to be your hidden side-thing, Annabeth. I'm not gonna let you hide me away like I'm a dirty secret. I'm done with... with sneaking around, and hooking up in airing cupboards and that stupid sofa—"

Annabeth snorts wetly. "God, that sofa. How we both didn't get mites is incredible."

"Speak for yourself."

"You got mites?"

"Fleas, too. And a few STIs. Chlamydia, gonorrhoea, herpes..."

"That was me, actually," she says, and it's enough to startle a laugh out him, even though it hurts his lip. After a moment, she joins in, giggling, looking pleased with herself in the way she always does when she successfully made him laugh.

Their laughter dies after a few more moments, and they're left standing there, smiling at each other. Percy doesn't think he can feel his feet. After all this time, this is what he wanted – Annabeth, stood in front of him, admitting she made a mistake, that she liked him too in the he liked her. That they could be together in a way that didn't involve grotty couches or in secret library nooks when no one was around.

Annabeth folds her hands behind her back. "I'm not ashamed," she says, softly. "Maybe—maybe I was, when I was too focused on what people thought of me, and putting on the best front so they'd respect me, but— I don't care about that anymore. I thought I did, but I don't." She swallows. "My, uh. One of my friends... she came out to me today. On the cheer squad. I won't say who but—but it was really brave of her, to do that. And even know it's not the same thing at all I just thought if she isn't going to be ashamed then neither am I. I'm done caring what people think."

"And you're the student class president," Percy says, though he sort of feels a bit breathless. "You can just them expelled."

"You really don't know what being student class president means, do you?"

"I know it means you give me unfair amounts of detentions."

"Maybe I liked seeing you after school."

He narrows his eyes. "You're joking."

"Of course I am. I wouldn't abuse school conduct like that. You're a menace to the student council."

"But still you like me."

"Yeah," and now her voice is soft, eyes sparkling, "I do."

For a few moments, they just stand there, staring at each other. The ache of his ribs and ankle has faded to almost nothing. He doesn't know how such a shit day could have such a drastic turnaround.

But, still. He has to be responsible.

"I just need some time," he says.

Annabeth's face falls infinitesimally. "Oh."

"Just to clear my thoughts. Because... you really hurt me."

"I know, and I'm so—"

"I know you're sorry. I know. I just—I just need a few days. Just to know that we're both sure."

She nods. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay. I trust you. But, um," she adds, cheeks dusting pink. "For the record?"

"Mm?"

"I'm not planning on changing my mind anytime soon."

He can't help the smile. "Okay."

"You should come to the pep rally next week. It's on—"

"Friday, yeah. I know."

She raises an eyebrow. "Could it be that Percy Jackson is developing a school spirit?"

He feels his ears go pink. "I know it because you haven't been in class. Practicing." He sees her smile grow and he points at her. "No. Stop."

"Stop what?"

"You're not making me become all patriotic towards school."

She tilts her head, smiling sweetly at him. "Aren't I?"

"Absolutely not."

"But you'll come to pep rally?"

"Must I?"

"It can be your first order of business as my boyfriend."

Boyfriend. He's not anticipating just how delightful it sounds coming from her lips like that. "Boyfriend?"

"The spot's up for grabs at the moment. Unless you know someone that'd be interested?"

"Mm, nope, can't think of a single one. Looks like I'm your only choice."

"Darn," she says, but she's smiling. "Guess you have to come to the pep rally, then."

"Guess I do."

They smile at each other. Percy doesn't think he'll ever stop smiling.

Then the bathroom door opens, and Thalia pops her shaggy head in.

"Hey, Jason wanted to know if you're staying for—"

Her eyes fall on Percy.

There is a long pause. Percy says, "Don't you ever knock? What if she were peeing?"

The look she gives him is nothing short of priceless: an amalgamation of bewildered, unimpressed and concerned. "What are you doing here? What happened to your face?"

"Clarisse," he says. "Annabeth was just helping me."

Thalia's eyes shift between the two of them, her eyebrows narrowed. "Hm," is all she says. "Come with me, I have a Clarisse kit in my bedroom. Annabeth – dinner?"

"Uh, no, thank you," Annabeth says. "I'd better be heading off home. I'll get my bag from Jason's room."

Thalia steps aside and lets her leave. Annabeth casts one final glance over her shoulder at Percy, turned away from Thalia so she can see, her smile small but so immeasurably pleased it makes Percy warm all the way down to his toes. Then she's gone, and Thalia stands instead against the door, giving him a weird look.

"Okay," she says finally, "considering you literally just your ass beat you're looking way too thrilled. Are you concussed?"

Not concussed. Just really happy. "Just a good day," is all he says.

Thalia stares at him, before turning away. "I give up with you. Come on, then, Smiley Susan, let's get you patched up."

---

For someone who doesn't appear to subscribe to pep nor rally, Thalia is remarkably okay with tagging along.

Percy had dragged her with him, mostly for moral support, because throughout the entirety of his entire high school career he's only attended a handful of football games. He'd anticipated a bit of a strop about it, as Thalia is inclined to throw whenever she is put in an environment of excess cheer or socialisation, for which a high school football game has both, but she'd been surprisingly normal, only tapping his forehead and saying loudly, "Percy? Is that you? Are you in there?" (Which for Thalia is tame. She can throw quite the performance should the occasion call for it.)

Even now, as they push through the swarms of people, trying to find a spot om the bleachers, she takes charge, Percy's arm in one hand, the other elbow-first as she jabs clear a path. It's a relatively chilly day compared to the stretch of sun they had, so they're both bundled in jackets, Percy's hands shoved deep down in his pockets. Sympathetically, he watches the cheerleaders stretch on the skirts of the field in their tiny uniforms.

"Thanks for coming," he says to her, as they sit down at the very back. "I know this isn't exactly your scene."

"Are you kidding? Nowhere else I'd rather be. Besides, Jason's playing, and I guess I should support him or whatever."

Percy grins. "Aw."

She kicks him. "Whatever. Don't think I can't tell you have ulterior motives."

"Me? Ulterior motives?"

"If only you wore them with any decorum."

"No ulterior motives. Just excited to show some school spirit."

"Yeah, and I find you deeply attractive. Be serious."

"Are you saying you don't?"

Thalia narrows her eyes at him, and he smiles winningly.

"Oh, whatever," she says. "Keep your secrets."

A few minutes before the pep rally begins, it begins to rain. At first, it's no more than a drizzle, but by the time the marching band have assembled it's coming down in buckets. Percy can't help the way his eyes move to Annabeth sat at the very front with the rest of the cheer team, holding a pompom over her head like an umbrella, in the middle of what looks like a heated discussion with the football coach. Still, the marching band plays on, and as the piece of their music becomes more familiar-sounding, something from the radio, the cheerleading squad run up to join them, barely visible aside through the torrential rain. It's not until they start to dance that Percy realises he's never seen Annabeth cheer before: sure, he's caught glimpses of a few of her practices whenever he was coming out of detention and they overran, and he's sure enjoyed the sight of her in her uniform, but he never realised exactly how skilled she was, the effortless way she moves. At one point she is thrown up in the air and Percy's heart stops in his chest but she moves like a bird, spinning and spinning and then landing safely in the arms of her teammates.

She's consummate.

Soon, the piece ends, and the marching band move to the side of the field as the football teams run on – Goode in red, up against their rival, Merriweather Prep from down the road. Everyone is already completely soaked, their hair slicked flat to their skulls, but the cheer team look like they're having the times of their lives as they dance around in it, chanting, and as the first whistle blows the football team don't appear as though they particularly mind either. Percy's never been one for school spirit, and he doubts he'll ever be, but there's something weirdly compelling about watching the team roll around in the mud, roaring like uncaged animals.

"I feel like they could do a nature documentary on them," he shouts to Thalia over the screaming. "Like, social hierarchies."

"Sometimes I really don't know what the hell you're saying," Thalia shouts back. "Can you see Jason?"

Someone suspiciously Jason-shaped rugby-tackles a player on the opposing team to the ground.

"I think that's him."

Thalia squints, flicking rainwater out of her eyelashes. "Can't be," she says dubiously. "He's not that good."

It's a long, fraught game. The scores are neck-in-neck, whenever one team scores higher the other team pulling their way back up to meet them. Percy honestly can't tell who's going to win – it all just depends on when the game ends and which team has managed to pull through in that second before the other one catches up.

Still, it's hard to really care, when fifty feet in front of him Annabeth is doing flips in the mud, long blonde hair stuck to her face. She's never been so beautiful.

In that moment, he realises he doesn't need any more time. He knows what he wants.

The scores become tied and stay that way until the last twenty seconds. He feels even Thalia begin to thrum with anticipation, her frozen sodden hand in his going tight with excitement. At fifteen seconds, the ball gets thrown to Jason, and though his face is lined in exhaustion, he begins to sprint.

"Holy shit," Thalia yells, "holy shit holy shit holy shit!"

Someone makes a pass for him but just as his fingers graze his jersey he's tackled to the ground by one of his teammates. Twenty feet. Ten seconds. Thalia stands, pulling Percy up with her. The stands are going nuts, screaming, and even the cheer team on the skirts of the field have stopped chanting, huddled together, clutching their pompoms, watching with wide eyes.

Five seconds.

Percy doesn't mean to, but his gaze strays to Annabeth, stood in the front, her ponytail a long golden rope down her back, her uniform stuck to her with rainwater. It's almost as though she can feel his eyes on, because then she turns, and looks right up at him.

Then she smiles.

The crowd goes wild as Jason scores a touchdown with one second to spare.

Percy doesn't even see it, just knows it happens because Thalia's screaming reaches a level that should be considered deafening. She's moving before he even has time to comprehend what's going on, shouldering her way down the bleachers, yanking him down after, their shoes slipping in the rain. She yells her way through, "That's my brother!" until they reach the ground, where she finally lest go of Percy's hand and jumps the fence, stomping across the field towards where the football team have gathered, cheering. "Jason!" she yells, and the crowd splits in surprise; Percy only catches a glimpse of Jason's surprised face before she barrels into him, their feet skidding in the wet grass, arms around his waist. "You piece of shit! You did it!"

Jason's arms come around her. "You came!"

"When the hell were you gonna tell me you weren't pathetic?"

The crowd surges forward so Percy no longer can hear. Someone bumps into him, sending him spinning, for a moment facing the bleachers instead of the field, and through them he can see the couch underneath, shielded from the rain, sagging and stained, with a spring coming up through one of the pillows. He smiles.

Then he turns around.

Only a few feet away stands Annabeth, celebrating with the rest of her team, their arms around each other. As they spin, her eyes catch his, and she splits from the group, expression jubilant, beckoning him over.

He doesn't need to be told twice.

"Well?" she says, grinning widely. The rain collects in her eyelashes; the stadium lights light them up like golden jewels. "Was it as bad as you were expecting?"

No, he means to say. What comes out is, "I don't want to wait anymore."

Her face changes, eyes widening. "Really?"

"I mean—only if you haven't changed your mind, either, but this is what I really want."

And before he can think, she runs over to him and pulls him into a kiss, in full view of the whole school.

It's pretty much the best kiss he's ever had.

They break apart when they can't stop laughing, Percy's arms settling around her waist, Annabeth's hands on his shoulders. He presses their foreheads together and kisses her again, and again, and again, and she cups his face in her hands and pulls him as close as he can. Distantly, he's aware of catcalls, of her teammates shouting, "Get it, Chase!", the murmur of, "Since when were they a thing?"

But he doesn't have it in him to care.

They only pull apart when the cheering gets louder. Percy glances over her shoulder to see two of Annabeth's teammates, both with long dark hair in cheer uniforms, kissing each other too, arms around each other's waists. Annabeth blinks adorably, her eyes dazed, until she turns around too.

"Bitches!" she says. "They stole our thunder."

Percy has to kiss her again. "You upset someone upstaged us?"

"I've been planning this for a long time. Of course I am." But when the girls break apart Annabeth blows them both kisses, and they grin at her, cheeks pressed together, hair glued to their necks.

"Well," Percy says, when she turns back to face him. "I don't know about you, but I still thought this was pretty epic."

"Yeah?"

"In front of the whole school? Annabeth Chase certainly knows how to make a statement."

She smiles up at him. She lights up the whole stadium. "Did you mean what you said? About not wanting to wait any longer?"

"I'm not sure of much," Percy confesses. "But I'm pretty sure about you."

Annabeth kisses him again.

It's pretty much perfect.

---

i took many creative liberties with what a pep rally was LOL. also yes the two girls r piper and reyna. canon wlw piper 4 the win

hope u all enjoyed that! lmk what u thought :]

happy birthday again jillian! u r the best. x