Being single had taught Annabeth one important thing: Shopping on Valentine's Day sucked.

It was bad enough that she was in Target at six thirty in the morning (and even more pathetic that she had nowhere else to go) but the endless aisles of chocolate, flowers, cards, and teddy bears were enough to activate her gag reflex.

She wanted to be home. She wanted her sweet, compassionate roommate to wake her up with a gentle voice, a plate of homemade breakfast, and a promise that she could stay in bed all day.

Unfortunately, her roommate Thalia had ripped the covers off at dawn, yelled that Annabeth needed to get out and experience life on this 'special day,' and then slipped an ice cube down her back when Annabeth refused to move.

When she couldn't get her to budge, Thalia had employed her boyfriend Luke—who happened to be waiting outside the apartment—to drag Annabeth from bed and toss her outside, where she was left with nothing but three one dollar bills and a stale piece of toast.

For a moment, Annabeth had been swept up in the giddy delight of Luke—tall, blonde, goddamned gorgeous Luke—actually touching her that she stood, motionless, trying to regain the ability to breathe. Then the door had slammed in her face, leaving Luke and Thalia on one side and she on the other.

As reality sunk in, she began wishing that Thalia got mono before the 'special day' was over.

Target was mostly empty—the only signs of life were a half asleep cashier and two pre-teen girls sitting at the mini Starbucks tucked in the corner of the store, headphones on and eyes glued to their phones.

Annabeth stumbled through the store with the grace of a half-dead rhinoceros. She was tired, hungry, still dressed in pajamas, and had nothing but three dollars clutched in one hand—not even enough to buy a cup of coffee.

The only thing that kept her awake was her desire to buy a card and deliver a go-to-hell valentine to Thalia. She had three dollars and a vengeful mind: not much could stop her.

Except the overpriced Target marchandise.

"Four dollars?" Annabeth exclaimed at the row of lacy cards. "You're all four freaking dollars?"

She grabbed a frilly pink card and waved it at the security camera overhead. "Hey, assholes!" she shouted. "It's a piece of paper and ribbon. I could buy three meals at Taco Bell for that money!"

A voice floated through the store, and for a crazy moment, she thought the security camera was responding to her rant.

"—special Saturday video for all my viewers. Usually I don't get out of bed before noon, but I've been banned from the apartment by my roommate. I wanted to preserve my innocence, so I didn't ask why, but I'm sure a certain Piper Mclean would know the answer!"

Annabeth paused, listening.

"—no idea what I'm going to do, so be prepared for some random stuff. How do you guys feel about a hotdog dissection?"

A young man appeared at the end of the aisle, filming himself with his phone as he walked backward.

"In response to MagikLouie's comment, I would have to say no," he said as he neared Annabeth. "I don't believe in love at first sight. Those movie plots are so overrated, I don't even know why—"

His eyes widened as he passed Annabeth. He stopped walking and pointed at her. "Hey, we have matching pajamas!"

The stranger was tall, with messy black hair, olive skin, and a cheerful grin that didn't belong anywhere near seven a.m. He looked around her age, twenty or so.

She was momentarily distracted by his eyes—bright, sea green eyes that gleamed like they were sharing a private joke—and had to blink several times to focus on his words.

"Matching...pajamas?" she repeated incredulously.

He gestured to her clothes—a white tank top and fuzzy pajama pants covered in snickerdoodle cookie designs—and then to his—a white shirt and pajama pants with chocolate chip cookies on them.

"We're like pajama twins!" he said, and then pointed his phone at her. "Guys, what do you think? Pajama twins for life?"

With the screen now facing her, she was able to see the stream of comments flooding in, saying things like Love U Percy and OMG new video on Valentine's Day and Why is Blondie just staring? Percy Jackson just said they were PJ buddies!

Annabeth tore her eyes away from the screen. "Percy Jackson?" she said. "Is that you?"

"In the flesh. Actually, I'm livestreaming right now, so you get to see both me online and in person. If I weren't as humble as I am, I would call you lucky."

More comments were popping up on the screen.

Is she joking?

Tell me she's not serious….is she?

HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW WHO PERCY JACKSON IS?

Freaking dumb blondes.

The number of subscribers was listed below: 66 million.

Sixty six million.

Of course. She's wearing pajamas, looks like a dead zombie, hasn't even bothered to, like, brush her hair in a week—and she's on live video in front of millions, standing next to a famous YouTuber.

She covered her eyes with a hand and groaned. "I hate life."

Percy didn't seem to hear her. "These are four dollars?" he exclaimed at the row of cards. "That's insane!"

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Well, life sucks," she said shortly.

Percy raised an eyebrow. "Someone's grumpy this morning," he said. "Did your boyfriend forget to buy you flowers?"

"I don't have a boyfriend." Annabeth's temper, already short, was beginning to flare. "If I'm mad, then it's because my roommate kicked me out for the day, I have no coffee, only three dollars, and I'm being harassed by an annoying, overrated celebrity I've never heard of in Target!"

The camera was still on her. She didn't care.

"My deepest apologies for being a bitch," she added sarcastically. She stuffed the card in her pocket—damn no money, Thalia was getting hate mail—and stalked away from the internet star.

It was only after she reached the checkout line that she realized she had just told millions of people that a) she was single; b) had nowhere to go; and c) had yelled at and insulted their favorite celebrity.

It would be a miracle if she made it through the day alive.

As if on cue, a voice cut through her thoughts.

"Oh. My. Gods. Is that who I think it is?"

She turned to see the pre-teen girls making a beeline for her. She had just enough time to think, oh shit, before one girl whipped out her phone and glanced between it and Annabeth.

"Oh my god. Oh my god, it is her!"

For the second time that day, a phone was shoved in her face, and she saw a screenshot of herself shouting at Percy, who looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"How could you do that?" one of the girls demanded. Her brown hair was pulled into two pigtails that hung to her shoulders. "You're so rude!"

"He cut off his video because of you," the other girl, a redhead, added. "It's your fault we can't watch him anymore!"

Annabeth had never been scared of preteens—their braces and acne weren't exactly fear inducing—but the look in these crazed fangirls eyes could only be described as downright murderous.

"Um…" Annabeth hedged.

"Oh my god," the redhead gasped. "If you're here, that means Percy's here too. This is the Target he was filming at!"

"Oh my god!" the pigtail girl screeched. "He's here!" Completely losing her head, she ran off in the opposite direction, shouting, "Percy! Percy Jackson, where are you?"

The redhead glared at Annabeth. "You're a jerkface," she sneered. Then, with no warning, she kicked Annabeth's shin, said, 'That's what you deserve!" and ran off to join her friend.

"Ow!" Annabeth bent down, clutching her shin—who knew sparkly sneakers could hurt so much—and hopped up and down. A stream of curse words spewed from her mouth.

"Psst. Hey, psst!"

Still holding her leg, Annabeth looked around to see Percy Jackson half peeking out of the grocery aisle, gesturing to her frantically.

Annabeth half limped over to him. "What are you—hey!" she protested as he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the aisle.

"Did they see you?" he said urgently. "Are they gone?"

Annabeth crossed her arms. "Your fanbase is ridiculous, Jackson. And yes, they're gone. They ran off after they attacked me."

Percy breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank god," he said. "I—" He tensed as another voice floated through the store.

"Trixie, over here! I think I smell the cologne he uses!"

"Damn it," he cursed. "It's those two again."

"Again? How often does this happen?"

Percy peered around the corner. "It's clear," he said. Half crouched, he dashed across the open stretch of tile, skidded into the cosmetics section, and caught himself on a shelf. He waved to Annabeth and mouthed, Come on.

This was ridiculous. He was running from twelve year olds. She was about to tell him as much when Trixie's voice came from several aisles over. "Bambi! Bambi, look at the pink pepper spray I found. We can use it on the mean girl and accessorize at the same time!"

Annabeth paled.

Twenty feet away, Percy's face looked a light shade of green. Hurry, he mouthed.

This time, she followed his advice. The throbbing her leg now abated, she ran to the cosmetics aisle.

Her momentum ended up being too much. She skidded, arms pinwheeling, and would have fallen into a row of foundation bottles if Percy hadn't grabbed her shoulders.

"I'm fine," she said impatiently, brushing him off. "Listen, about your video—"

Percy's eyes widened at something behind her. "Hide," he said, and pulled her behind a display of false eyelashes—make your Valentine swoon for only 5.99!—just as Trixie ran by, her frizzy red hair streaming behind her, a bottle of super sized pepper spray in one hand.

"Bambi!" Trixie called to the pigtail girl. "Did you find him yet? We can get him to sign the pepper spray before we use it on her!"

Annabeth slipped out from behind the display. "Right," she said shakily. "I'm starting to develop a fear of pre-teens."

Percy gave a lopsided grin. "Welcome to my life, Miss—"

"Annabeth Chase." She stuck her head around the corner, glanced both ways, and then said, "Have you considered the danger you put your guest stars in?"

"In my defense," Percy said, "you were an unintentional guest star. And I have no idea the Maenads would be here. I thought I lost those two for good in Queens."

"Who are the Ma—"

"I found his hat!" a shrill voice said from the grocery aisle. "I found it!"

Oops, Percy mouthed.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. She said quietly, "Thirty feet down. Men's clothing section." Without waiting for him, she sprinted down the tile.

The threat of pepper spray was great motivation. She reached the carpeted section—perfect for hiding, with its racks of clothing placed every few feet—and crouched down behind a rack of baggy jeans.

She had just enough time to wonder how the hell she had got in this situation (blaming Thalia was at the top of her list) when Percy dove behind the rack.

"Maenads," he said, picking up their conversation like there had only been a mild interruption, "are a huge group of my fans. They're all over the United States, but those two…" he grimaced. "They're relentless. They've tracked me from Oregon to New York.

"They're like twelve," Annabeth said. "How do they have that much freedom?"

"Rich absent parents." He shook his head and swore. "I can't believe they found me again. You don't want to know what happened the last time they found me with a girl. It was—"

The rest of his sentence was cut off as Annabeth slapped a hand over his mouth. A pair of sparkly sneakers had appeared at the edge of the carpet.

"Bambi!" Trixie called in a whiny voice. "I don't think he's here anymore. Let's finish checking the men's section and then start looking outside Target."

To Annabeth's horror, the sparkly shoes began moving onto the carpet.

Percy's breath was hot on her hand. She removed it. His eyes were wide. He mouthed five words: Don't let them find you.

His expression of horror was enough to solidify her fear. "Split up," she breathed. "You go left, I go right."

He nodded.

"Go."

Annabeth crawled across the floor army style, using her elbows to move her body forward. She paused behind each clothing rack, waited with bated breath for several seconds, and then kept moving.

She reached the edge of the men's section unnoticed. The next clothing section was several feet over, on red carpet and with the sign Women's Intimate Apparel hanging above it. Heart pounding, she entered the open stretch and began slithering across the gap on her stomach.

A girly gasp rang out. "I think I saw something!" Trixie said. "Bambi, over here!"

Annabeth's body tensed with fear. She was out in the open. Exposed. Helpless. She had just enough time to wonder if the pepper spray would hurt as much as Thalia said it did—which was a lot—when there was a loud crash.

"Ow!" Trixie cried. "Bambi, you made me trip!"

"I did not! That was your fault!"

It was less than thirty seconds that Trixie and Bambi argued. A thirty second time slot. Thirty seconds in which Percy appeared from behind a rack in the women's section, lunged forward, grabbed Annabeth's arms, and dragged her onto the red carpet.

They ended up crouched inside a circular rack with large, lacy bras that hung halfway to the floor. All the Maenads had to do was look down and they would be discovered.

There was a pattering of feet. A pair of sparkly shoes appeared, and with it, a bottle of pepper spray.

Without meaning to, Annabeth reached for Percy's hand and squeezed it tightly.

Bambi sighed loudly. "It was nothing," she said in a whiny voice. "You're going blind."

"Am not!"

"Am too!"

"You're stupid!"

"I hate you!"

Their voices faded as they walked away, bickering the entire time. Annabeth just caught one of them saying, "Let's go check outside. If we don't see him, then maybe we can catch her."

It was another five minutes before they risked stepping outside the rack. They clambered out awkwardly, knocking at least a dozen articles of clothing to the ground.

Percy plucked a lacy red bra off his shoulder and held it out. "For you," he said.

She stared at him. "Oh my god," she said. "You are a freaking idiot. We almost got killed by a pair of psychopaths! Is this going to happen for the rest of my life?"

Percy brushed the dust off the bra and set it back on the rack. "Nah. I mean, sure, the Maenads are crazy, but Trixie and Bambi are a whole new level."

"You said the Maenads are a huge group. How many are there?"

Percy began picking up the dropped bras and tossing them onto the rack. "I dunno...a few million? Maybe ten?"

"Ten million? How am I going to leave the house again?" She tugged frantically on her blonde curls. "This is all your fault, Jackson."

"Hey," he said. "Do you think I'm any happier about this? Trixie and Bambi caught up with me on Valentine's Day. Do you know what it's like to be famous and single on the most romantic day of the year? It's not even eight and I've already had three dozen people practically fling themselves at me."

"Yeah, you're privileged ass is really suffering over here," she said drily. "In the meantime, I'm being threatened with assault. I just wanted to buy a hate valentine for my roommate. And you're doing that wrong!" she added, and snatched the bra away from him.

Percy leaned against the wall, watching her clip the bra onto its hanger.

"That's it," she said, slamming the hanger onto the rack. "I'm going to have to go into exile. I'll change my name. Drop my college classes." She moaned. "I'm going to end up being a middle aged woman named Gertrude flipping burgers."

He looked like he was suppressing a smile. "That bad, huh?"

Annabeth glared at him. "Unless you have any great ideas," she said, "then I'd rather not risk ten million enemies armed with pepper spray."

Percy furrowed his brow. Then his eyes lit up. "I've got it!"

"What?"

"I have a solution," Percy said. "And it'll solve both our problems.

Annabeth's spirits lifted slightly. "Okay. What is it?"

"You said you were kicked out of your apartment for the day, right?" he checked.

"Yes."

"You don't have anywhere to go? Nothing to do?"

"Again, yes."

"And you don't have a boyfriend?"

"Is there a point to this?"

Percy checked his phone. "It's seven a.m.," he said. "We have exacgtly seventeen hours until Valentine's Day is over. That's seventeen hours to convince my fans that a) you don't deserve hellfire and destruction for yelling at their favorite celebrity; and b) I am not single and most definitely don't want to hook up today."

She digested his words. "And how are we going to do that?"

He spread his hands and grinned. "It's simple," he said. "You and I are now dating."

Note: I wrote this in two weeks. There wasn't a lot of time for editing or perfecting, so don't judge too harshly. It's a rushed, unrealistic, cheesy, mess of words cobbled together from 1 a.m. writing sessions and no sleep. :) Once I have time, I'll go back and rewrite it—fix the plot holes, fill in the details, smooth the edges, edit the dialogue, etc—but for now, you're stuck with this. ;)