I was just writing, kept going, and now we have this. Most of the smut is in chapter two because I wrote enough to split this supposed-to-be one shot in two :D

I hope you enjoy it! There isn't too much of a plot, just vibes and the struggles of young adulthood. As I was writing this, I realized it's kind of like that movie The First Time and maybe a touch of The Sun is Also a Star, but those were unintentional coincidences, haha.

Title from In Your Eyes by BADBADNOTGOOD

(Also, this was cross posted on AO3)

The party started an hour ago, and Percy was one "time is a social construct" away from going to bed.

He didn't know how his roommates convinced him to let them host a party, but the second two dozen people flooded their approximately two-square-foot apartment, he was convinced he must've been inebriated. There was no chance he could've been sober when he sat on the sofa for three hours, blowing up cheap silver balloons and stringing gold tinsel between the ceiling fan blades.

And yet, he stood in the hallway entrance, watching his balloons get popped by the drunk girl dancing aggressively in six-inch stiletto heels. He just hoped his neighbors wouldn't call the police to report gunshots.

Percy took a swig of his beer, countering the steady rise of bile up his throat.

It wasn't that Percy didn't like parties; if he pre-gamed hard enough, he enjoyed any get-together with dim enough lighting and loud enough music. Sweaty bodies, decent food selection, good friends—he lived for all of it, especially during his later teen years. But turning 24 brought about the realization that Percy liked having his own space and things. Those were the champagne glasses that he got as a housewarming gift, and that was his sofa creaking under the weight of eight people, and that was his rug that now had so many stains he was going to have to invest actual money into cleaning it.

And as Percy stood in the hallway, cringing at the messes being made, he realized that he'd already become his mother. And a one-beer buzz was not enough to let him ignore that.

Before he could duck back into his room or knock back enough booze to get him shit-faced, a hand clapped down on Percy's shoulder. Percy spun around until his roommate and best friend, Grover, came into view, rosy-cheeked and hair matted against his sweaty forehead.

"Did you find her yet?"

Thirty minutes before people arrived, Grover told him that he'd set Percy up on a blind date and that she would be at the party—to which Percy reacted with a giant eye roll and a declaration of abstention. Every time Grover or another one of their friends tried to set Percy up after his breakup, the person ended up being—well, they ended up being okay. But nothing that would get Percy to call them for a second date. Sometimes, Percy felt like an asshole for blocking the person, but Percy was nothing if not intuitive of what he did and didn't like. And while he wasn't too old to know better about who to date, he was mature enough to cut things off at the root. If Grover, bless his heart, was the one to set up this blind date, Percy wasn't all too willing to give sickly sweet another chance.

Percy didn't know her—in fact, Grover hadn't told Percy anything except her name and that she was intelligent, kind, and very blonde—but Percy hadn't seen a blonde head at the party yet.

"Uh, no. I don't think the lucky girl showed." (Unless she was the one person who had approached Percy several times to tell him, "Time is made up, and society as we know it is a simulation," to which Percy replied,

"Well, yeah, why else is every single person I encounter on the subway an NPC for an indie horror game?")

Grover frowned and slipped his phone from his pocket. "Weird. She said she had made it."

Percy swirled the liquid around the bottom of his bottle and tipped it back into his mouth. It tasted like piss and yeast and was hardly carbonated anymore. "Maybe she lied."

Grover didn't look very convinced, but it's not like Percy cared. He wasn't much into dating these days anyway. Percy had been single for the past eight months and enjoyed the freedom he had to worry about himself, his family, his job, and paying rent on time.

"She's not the type of person—"

"Hey, it's fine, man. I don't care. I'm probably just gonna head to bed."

Grover's face fell, and Percy felt a little guilty. He knew how excited Grover had been when he set him up. Apparently, Grover had been friends with the girl for a long time, and Percy was sure that if Grover liked her enough to keep her in his life, she was lovely. But Percy was always hesitant when it came to romance. His first and only long-term relationship was with his last girlfriend, whom he dated for three years. The breakup was mutual, and they kept up with one another on social media, but the split was painful, regardless. Percy had been all in—he was an all-in kind of guy. This blind date Grover set him up on probably would have ended up like all the others, and like them, he didn't want to string this girl along for nothing.

"Alright," Grover said, shrugging. "Didn't meet anyone else, did you?"

Ever the persistent one, Grover Underwood. "Nah, man. I'm just gonna pack it up for tonight. Make sure everyone gets home safe."

His roommate hummed in affirmation, and Percy continued down the hall, avoiding people until he got to the room at the end, immediately forging ahead to open his door.

And there were certain things Percy expected whenever he walked into his room; he expected a desk covered in every piece of junk mail he'd received from the previous holiday season. He expected his blackout curtains to be slightly open, his trash can overflowing, the pictures on his wall to be uneven, and his closet closed enough so you couldn't see the massive pile of clothes threatening to spill out.

He had not expected to see the silhouette of a woman lying on his bed.

At the sound of the door opening, the woman sat up and whipped her head toward the door, wild curls whirling around her head until they settled around her shoulders. Though Percy couldn't make out her features in the dark room, he practically saw her eyes blow wide. "What are you doing here?" she asked. The outline of her figure was rigid.

Percy glanced around the room and over his shoulder, disbelief bubbling under the surface of his skin. "Are you talking to me?"

The woman scoffed, and Percy's brow furrowed involuntarily. "There's no one else around, is there? Unless you're hiding some parasitic twin under your clothes."

The sign on the door was not enough. Of course, it wouldn't be. Something (that being Grover) had nagged at him, telling him to lock his door, but he didn't think anyone would have the audacity. Plus, he lost the room key weeks ago, so he couldn't get back in if he wanted to.

Percy clutched his doorknob, and his headache began to throb. "This is my room. Did you ignore the sign on the door that says "do not enter"?"

The woman shrugged and relaxed until she was propped up on her elbows. "It was dark. Didn't bring my glasses. Sorry."

And Percy should be mad, furious, even. He should feel that inkling blossoming in his chest telling him to get angry, having his only sanctuary violated by this complete stranger lying in his bed, the most private of places to his name. But—Percy was one-drink sleepy. And one-drink sleepy Percy combined with an irritated Percy and deteriorating social battery Percy was overriding angry Percy at the moment. He couldn't fight even if he wanted to. He agreed to the party, and in doing so, he consented to the consequences. Next time, Percy would just have to be stern and say no. He was a grown-ass man.

"It's… whatever." He steps over a purse on the floor, presumably hers. "But I would like you to leave."

"Do I have to?"

Percy groaned and walked further into his room until he could open his curtains more, letting light from the street into the room. He felt her eyes on him as he set down a mostly empty beer on his nightstand; a car's passing headlight reflected in the bottle. "Yes, you do. I would like to be asleep before I have to hear my roommate get it on with his girlfriend."

Then, with his arms folded, he turned toward the woman.

And every word he'd ever known boarded his train of thought and sped out of his right ear.

"Fine. But my friend is your roommate's girl, and she's my ride, and if they both get caught up, I will be taking residence on your sofa for the night. Just a heads up."

The woman slinked forward as she looked up at Percy, a subtle pout playing on her glossy red lips. A black velvet dress bunched around full thighs when she slid off the bed and landed with strappy heels on hardwood flooring. When she stood, she was the same height as him.

"Have a nice night. Sorry for invading your space."

Her round eyes squinted as she patted his shoulder and smiled.

And as she walked away, her blonde hair glowed platinum in the moonlight streaming through his window.

The words came from Percy's mouth before he realized they were coming.

"Were you supposed to go on a blind date with someone tonight?"

The woman paused, then turned around to face him, and it felt like someone had punched Percy in his throat.

Percy didn't use the word "gorgeous" often. He thought it was too much, too sticky, too heavy when he could use less weighty words like pretty or cute. And Percy wouldn't use it to describe this woman either, but it sat right there, at the tip of his tongue. His face warmed as she blinked and cocked her head at him.

"Uh, yeah. Why—" Her eyes widened as realization dawned on her. "Oh my God, are you Percy?"

Percy wanted to crumple up and die. Of course, this would be her. Luck must've hated him—Grover must have hated him. But frankly, Grover setting him up with this woman was perfectly in character with all his other attempts. Attractive, yet there was just that…something that told him they wouldn't mesh.

Though, that something may be less intuition and more the fact that she actively refused to leave his room.

"Yeah. I am. You must be Annabeth."

She grimaced. "Yeah. I am."

So she had shown up. Did she see Percy and not like him? Did she hate the idea of blind dates as much as he did? Did she have some kind of favor to pay Grover? Percy didn't want to be set up with someone as reluctant as he was—that just made two reluctant people who wouldn't be able to get anywhere. He supposed that would make cutting her off the next day easier.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, I guess." And because Percy couldn't help but ask, "Why are you in here?"

Annabeth wrinkled her nose in thought, folding an arm behind her to grasp the other. She had moles on her inner elbow. Percy wondered if she had moles anywhere else—and then felt guilty about it because, holy shit, he didn't even know anything about her. And kind of doesn't want to, given his first impression.

"I'm not really one for parties," Annabeth said, shrugging. "My friend dragged me here claiming I need to socialize or I would, and I quote, die single surrounded by three cats, and I would've said a dozen cats, but you're sensible enough to know that taking care of so many cats at such an old age is an irresponsible thing to do." She brushed a few invisible crumbs from her dress. "She and Grover were probably right, but this scene isn't really my scene. Hell, this dress isn't even my dress."

It was against his will that Percy let his eyes fall upon her, but the feeling in his stomach at the way the dress hugged her curves was too strong to ignore. He had to end the thoughts there before he felt even grosser than his foul mood was making him.

He did agree with her, though. House parties were among the worst types of parties, specifically when they were hosted by New Yorkers in their early twenties with apartments so small an average height person could spread their arms and touch opposite walls. Cheap wine, cheap beer, vodka that tastes like rubbing alcohol. Desperate people shoved against each other, aching for physical touch. A hazy atmosphere of sensual politics. So many forms of inhaling weed everybody caught a second-hand high. A fabricated sense of being cross-faded. Faking it until work in the morning.

Maybe Percy was more affected than he thought he was.

"I get it," Percy said, unfolding his arms. "It can be a lot, especially if you're not a social person. Hence the reason I ducked out so early."

Annabeth raised a thick, perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "I mean, by the way you were scowling in the corner all night, it didn't even look like you were trying to have fun."

Percy's eyebrows shot in his hairline. "You noticed me?"

Annabeth looked off to the side, and if the room lighting had been better, Percy was sure he would have seen her blush darker than the blush she wore. It was satisfying in a way he didn't know satisfaction could feel. "I didn't know who you were, but yeah. Caught my eye a few times. But you looked so pissed off at everything I didn't want to be on the receiving end of your imminent conniption."

Percy scoffed, mind half-fogged with the fact that anyone had been remotely paying attention to him, let alone her. "You're hilarious."

"I'm not trying to be funny. I'm trying to be safe."

Percy suddenly found his mouth turned downwards. He couldn't have looked all that threatening, from the way people have no problem babbling to him about shit he couldn't care less about. Sure, they were drunk, but. But still. Percy was an approachable person. He was generally considered likable. The frown he wore now was probably harsher than the one he wore at the party. "You didn't even give me a chance."

"How could I when you didn't even attempt to look like you would have a good time? I didn't want to bother you."

Percy didn't know why he was feeling defensive—it was late, and this woman was a stranger, and he didn't have anything to prove to anybody. He was agreeable. All his friends and family had told him so. Percy knew deep in his heart that even if he sometimes came off as guarded or standoffish, it was only because that was how he was currently feeling. And at the moment, Percy didn't want to date. Percy didn't want to be at this stupid, random party. He would find someone when he was ready and hope that someone wouldn't be so judgmental; he would party given an occasion to do so.

But it's not like she was wrong. Percy did not want to be approached, not by another time-denying stranger or someone popping his balloons or a blind date bound to go wrong at some point. It was the reason he retired from the living room an hour in.

So, in a turn of events, he supposed she was right.

His pride, however, was much too large to admit it.

"I'm not sure you're one to talk." Percy bristled, standing straighter. "Just by looking at me, you decided I wasn't worth your time. You were looking for excuses not to approach me."

Annabeth's eyes narrowed, and her hand fell to her hip. "I don't need you to point out my hypocrisy, and I don't need you to read me like you know me." She jabbed a finger in his direction. "The goddamn host of the party looked like he would've rather died. I think we're on equal footing."

Percy had no idea who this woman was telling him about himself, and he didn't appreciate it. Stepping toward Annabeth, he could feel that heat in his chest signaling that he was getting upset.

"Firstly, I'm hardly the host of this party. My roommates are the ones who put it on, and I'm just the sucker that agreed to let it happen here. Secondly, the same goes for you. If you hadn't slipped into my room so quickly, maybe you could've had a good time with me. I mean, did you even try? Or were you so sure that this party wasn't your "scene"—" which he put in air quotes—"you didn't make an attempt to get to know somebody."

"That's rich coming from someone who called themselves a "sucker"—" which she, in turn, put in air quotes— "who didn't want this party to happen."

"Might I remind you that I live here and have the choice of whether or not to join the party? You're the one in a stranger's room."

"A stranger's room that was unlocked."

"There was a sign on the door, dude."

Annabeth moved closer, heel digging into the edge of his rug. He could feel her hot breath ghost over his mouth and see the flare in her eyes. "I am not a dude."

Percy didn't know when it happened, but suddenly, they were centimeters apart. He forced his eyes to stay on hers, knowing full well that if they wandered, she would take it as a victory—even then, he couldn't help the smirk that grew on his face.

"I know that."

Annabeth sneered and drilled her finger into Percy's hard chest. "Fuck you," and her voice seeped with venom.

A car passed and illuminated Annabeth's face through the window, catching the glitter of her lips and the dark glare in her gaze, but the light was enough to tell Percy she was flushed. The flush crept from her cheeks to her neck and chest, and Percy wondered if it went farther and whether she had anything to drink or was that embarrassed. A shallow part of Percy hoped it was the latter. A deeper part of Percy hoped it was because she was as helplessly attracted to his proximity as he was to hers.

Because to himself and himself alone, he would admit that he was attracted to this Annabeth. Contemptuous and prideful and entitled and all. Because, of course, he would find the worst match Grover ever set him up with the most insanely fucking pretty person he's met in months. Of course, he would think about making this weird by kissing her; of course, he would think about this for weeks because eight months out from a long-term relationship, Percy was just now learning that he kind of gets off on arguing. Or, at the very least, arguing with pretty women who could go toe-to-toe with him and give what he gave.

"Make me."

He didn't mean for that response to slip out, but oh, the way Annabeth looked at his mouth. She glanced back toward Percy's open door and, after a few seconds of huffing, turned around and stomped her way toward it. However, instead of leaving (which Percy could've sworn he told her to do minutes ago), she closed the door and locked it.

"What are you doing?" Percy asked, staring as she marched straight past him, grabbed the bottle on his desk, and downed the rest of it. Her lipgloss left a stain. She turned back to Percy, hands fisted by her sides.

"Are you drunk?"

Confusion and something hot steeped in Percy's chest. It was not a comfortable nor a welcome heat—but it was there and remarkably close to heartburn. If heartburn could travel and make the back of his neck hot.

"No. I've only had a beer. Why?"

Annabeth moved closer, her body weight distributed toward her front leg so she could lean into him. She had another mole on her temple. "I've had two, but I can handle my alcohol. I could walk in a straight line if you asked. But I don't want to. You won't make me, will you?"

She smelled like some floral perfume, and Percy's head was fogging until he couldn't think clearly. That had to be why he thought the way her smirk lifted higher in one corner was sexy. And why, when Annabeth placed her palm against his chest and pushed him onto the bed, he went down willingly.

She climbed into his lap, seated between his spread thighs. She buried his fingers in the collar of Percy's shirt as Percy answered, "No." And because all suaveness left his body the second things turned in this direction, he asked again, "Why?"

Their lips brushed as Annabeth leaned in close, and the 'heartburn' from his neck to his cheeks.

"I really wanna make out with you right now."

It was sometime after that point Percy found his hands tangled in blonde curls as Annabeth sucked his bottom lip. Her knees caged his hips, and her nails dug into his shoulders, and when she bit and pulled, Percy thought he was going to die right there.

He didn't know what was happening. Percy's entire being was lagging; the only thing keeping up was how his lips parted for hers. His eyes hadn't even fully closed yet. He could barely make out Annabeth's eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks as he massaged his thumbs against the sides of her neck, still reeling and unable to do much else besides let her hands run down his chest. How had they gone from arguing to this? Why was he letting this happen, and why did it feel so good when she threaded her fingers in his hair and tugged his head back to kiss him deeper?

He couldn't answer those questions. He could tell you that Annabeth tasted like cheap beer, mint gum, and glitter if glitter had a flavor. He could tell you that the whimper in her throat when he moved his hands from her hair and ran them down her back to grip her waist was enough to make heat curl in his abdomen—

Annabeth licked into his mouth, and Percy's tongue dared to chase hers as he squeezed her warm thighs. Damn was the only word that flashed through his mind. Her soft lips brushed, pressed, and caressed against his, a rhythm she refused to break. Percy caught her gasps as his hands slid up her sides, bunching that goddamn dress between his fingers. Annabeth sighed, and with calloused palms, she stroked around the curls at the nape of his neck until she was cupping his jaw and smoothing fingertips along the shells of his ears. She was absolutely captivating, and it was terrible for Percy's health and mental well-being. Percy shifted forward, and Annabeth shivered, pulling back to pant against his lips.

"Is this okay?" she asked, voice breathy and light as she brought her hands to the front of his shirt to undo a button. "I don't want to bring this to a point you're uncomfortable with."

Percy chuckled. Why now, of all times, would she be concerned about making him uncomfortable when minutes ago, that seemed like her one and only goal? Still, the hesitation in her glazed eyes and the way she worried her bottom lip—it was cute. Like, way too cute, and Percy had to rest his forehead in the crook of her neck before he got lost in her gaze and fucking blushed.

Percy wasn't a casual kind of guy. He never was and didn't see it becoming a pattern in the future, sleeping around with whoever would undress the quickest. But Annabeth was so pretty and self-assured (if not a little mean). This might've been the first time Percy wanted to hook up with someone he wasn't in a relationship with. Percy might try the casual thing even if he regrets it later. He was young; he should make mistakes before he got too old.

"Annabeth," he said, turning his head to press his lips against her shoulder, "I would stop you if I didn't want you to. I promise."

He kissed a mole on her collarbone, and her shaky breath spurred him to continue down her chest. Her thin fingers dug into the sides of his shirt as her thumbs undid more buttons, and as he sank his teeth into her breast, she cursed under her breath.

When the last button was freed from its hole, Annabeth glided her hands over Percy's stomach, and he gasped, arching against her cool skin; off his guard, Annabeth knocked him flat against the mattress, sitting on top of his hips. She pressed her palms against his chest, her chest heaving and flushed from a flowering red bruise on the left side.

And it felt like high school, how her tongue worked its way into his mouth. It felt like sneaking under the bleachers during a football game, drinking the expensive liquor parents kept in the high cabinets, or staying out too late and blasting your favorite songs on the radio. It felt like teeth grazing over sensitive skin, too wet to be proper. It felt like Annabeth's soft curves fitted against him would send him into cardiac arrest. It felt like as Annabeth moved down to kiss his jaw, Percy would explode into a million tiny pieces.

Suddenly, Annabeth paused, lips skimming the skin just under his ear. She pulled back, gripped him by the shoulders, and when she looked Percy in the eyes, the expression she wore was something he couldn't place—which probably had to do more with the fact that she was sitting on his growing erection than her unreadability.

''This is an embarrassing question, and I don't want to be too eager or presumptuous." Her previously existing lipgloss was smeared around her mouth, and Percy was sure he was also covered in it. She looked even prettier now that her dishevelment was entirely his doing. "But do you have condoms?"

Percy went blank. Did he have condoms? Was she—did she want to go that far this early on? Wasn't this a little fast? Annabeth stared down at his bedsheets, lip caught between her teeth, and in probably the most delayed reaction of all time, his entire face lit up bright red.

"Uh, yeah!" He propped himself on his elbows and gestured uselessly behind her. "I—they're in the drawer over there."

He and his ex stopped using condoms a year and a half into their relationship, but three months after their breakup, Grover bought him a box of condoms before the first date he set him up on. That date hadn't gone well enough to make it thirty minutes, let alone to end with them sleeping over, and with each failed attempt Percy (a la Grover) made to get back on the market, the box collected more and more dust.

But now, more than ever, Percy thanked Grover for being weird about his love life. Annabeth glanced back to where he was pointing and nodded.

"Okay, cool." She took another shuddering breath through her nose. "I don't want to take this too far and not have any around, you know? I'm also on birth control, but—and I mean, I haven't been with anyone in like a year, and we were safe with everything, so I'm sure I'm clean. If that matters to you. I mean, it should matter if we're going to—do whatever this is. If you want to. Oh, God." Annabeth covered her face with her hands and groaned, and an amused grin snuck onto Percy's face. "I'm sorry I'm being weird. I don't usually do this."

Cute. Percy grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand down until she was peeking at him over her fingertips, the apples of her cheeks pink. It was a stark contrast, this bashful Annabeth now compared to the confidence she had earlier. Percy was going to get whiplash with how suddenly she changed, but it was a welcome injury.

"I don't usually do this either," Percy assured, pulling her hand down farther until he could slide their palms together. He traced her fingertips, and she watched his movements."We don't have to take it anywhere if you don't want—"

"No!" Annabeth said suddenly, grasping her hand in his. She pulled their intertwined hands to her chest and rested her chin against their knuckles, exhaling breathily. "I want to. I really, really want to. I wouldn't have told you I wanted to kiss you if I didn't. But I—I just—" she paused, closed her eyes, took another deep breath, and Percy finally took note of how many times she'd done that since they started 'doing whatever this is.' Had she been nervous this whole time? Was she hoping that last bit of beer would give her the liquid courage she needed?

Annabeth readjusted, and Percy tried not to flinch at the friction in his jeans; if she noticed his grip tighten in her dress, she didn't say anything about it.

"You didn't ask, but I lost my virginity to my ex three years ago, and after getting off, they promptly broke up with me, leaving me heartbroken and unsatisfied. Which is a little TMI, but what the hell, you know?"

Percy furrowed his eyebrows, carefully studying her face. "Yeah?"

Annabeth brought their hands back down against her stomach, the texture of the velvet tickling Percy's skin. "Yeah. And like, the entire time we were doing it, it didn't hurt, exactly, but it didn't feel good. I wasn't all that… wet, I guess. And the entire time, I thought, isn't sex supposed to feel good? But they didn't care about that at all, just finished, rolled over, fell asleep, and broke up with me over text the next day. As soon as they got in their car."

Percy frowned and studied the flush beginning to creep down Annabeth's neck and chest, curious about the significance of her telling him that story. Percy knew his first time wasn't all that great, but at least he walked away knowing they'd both enjoyed it. Percy didn't understand why people thought they had to "get it over with" instead of using that chance to explore what was and wasn't good for them. Percy was by no means a sex expert—he'd only ever slept with his one long-term girlfriend—but he learned at least that much throughout a three-year relationship.

"It doesn't have to hurt, you know," Percy said, making sure Annabeth didn't look uncomfortable before he continued. "Sex is supposed to be enjoyable for all parties involved."

Annabeth wouldn't meet his eyes. "I know. I wanted to do it because I loved them, but I—I just wasn't that into it, and I forced myself to suffer through it, and—"

"Hey," Percy said, placing his other hand over hers. She sucked in a breath, and he swallowed hard to dissipate the sudden lump in his throat. "It wasn't your fault it didn't feel good. It was also on them to make sure that you were… you know, physically ready."

His hand was still on her stomach, and she was staring at him, and all Percy could say was, "Lube is also a viable option," like he was someone's father giving the sex talk.

Annabeth rolled her eyes, the corner of her mouth turning upwards. "I guess. But we only dated for a few months—it's nothing to get hung up over. Even still, I think that's why I'm freaking out right now."

Percy didn't know why he felt the need to comfort her. He didn't know her until—well, not even an hour ago. Maybe it was her vulnerability and his savior complex all his friends told him to work on. Perhaps it was because they were two strangers talking like old friends would (if old friends sat in sexual positions on bedsheets late at night).

Maybe it was the way she looked at him.

"Though I assure you there's nothing you need to worry about with me, you're allowed to feel a way about it, Annabeth. All your feelings are valid."

Looked at him like she could see right through him.

"You're too cute, you know that?"

Looked at him like he was more than just some 24-year-old kid, too cynical for his age and overly protective of the few possessions to his name. Like he didn't look weird in the ill-fitting button-up his mother told him to wear over FaceTime. Like if they hadn't just met tonight, if time were frozen and they were the only two people left to move about, she would be content to spend a while talking to him on his blue duvet.

Percy had never been called cute before, so he wasn't expecting it to make him blush. "What do you mean?"

Annabeth unfolded their hands and re-interlaced her fingers with Percy's. She brushed her thumb over his knuckles before tugging his hand toward her mouth.

"You, trying to make me feel better." She faintly brushed her lips against the back of his hand. "Thank you."

Her lips lingered near his hand for a few seconds longer as she smiled, a dimple appearing on her right cheek. Percy prayed to any god that his hands wouldn't clam up, but he felt the flush in his cheeks darken. Her eyes sparkled like she could see how flustered she was making him feel.

"Uh, you're welcome. You're cute…too."

"Don't sound so sure of yourself," Annabeth snickered as she reached over to pick up her phone she'd tossed into the bedsheets. A dull glow illuminated her face when she clicked it on. "It's getting late. Guess your plans of being asleep by this time are screwed, huh?"

Percy forgot that he had been exhausted and suffering from a headache; he wasn't quite sure when these feelings had disappeared. But as he held the hand of this strange woman and listened to the dull thumps of a party through the walls, Percy realized that he would spend a while here too.

There were two, three, four beats of silence. And then—"Do you wanna go on a date with me?"

Maybe the one drink he had affected him more than he thought had because suddenly, his filter was gone. Annabeth looked shocked by the questions, too; she flinched back, loosening her grip on his hand.

"Sorry?"

Percy sat up suddenly, and Annabeth caught herself on his shoulders. The streetlight outside his window illuminated her wide eyes.

"Would you go on a date with me?" he asked again. "I know we got off on a weird foot—but we were supposed to go on a date anyway, right? And I want to get to know you better."

Annabeth opened, closed, then opened her mouth again, and Percy hoped he hadn't been too forward. It wasn't exactly the most ideal time to ask—and given the circumstances of their meeting, maybe not the most perfect person to ask—but Percy hadn't exactly been at the top of his dating game for the past few years. What did asking someone out even take anymore; should he care about the semantics of it when they'd been in the middle of the best makeup session Percy's ever had?

"You want to go now?" Percy nodded. "Like right now, at this very second?"

Percy nodded again. He wanted to go now because, at this very second, he had an intense urge to want to do this thing right, to give it a chance. After all, Percy hadn't been happy in a long time. He felt like the world had been crushing him since he was a kid, taking advantage of a naive soul and placing him like a pawn into fucked-up situations just to see how he would react. Like a character in a simulation, his choices were molded by the people around him, and he had no control over them. A clay figurine, a puppet. Meeting his girlfriend when he did was more of a "you're the one here right now" rather than "you're the one I choose to be with."

And Percy was okay with that. Because life was a series of predetermined choices until you die, and if the decisions the gods clicked above led him to find her, he would take whatever he could get. For some, that was fine; for a long time, that was fine with him. It was good. She was good; they were good.

But good wouldn't last another year. Good wasn't enough to stop the little fights from causing cracks, to eliminate the insecurities from niggling in the back of his mind. It wasn't enough to stop him from wondering that if he had deviated from the system, there would be someone else existing on the other side. It wasn't enough to prevent the foundation from breaking until everything crumbled around them.

He let her keep the apartment; it was the least he could do.

And now, a choice was sitting right in front of him—figuratively and literally. And Annabeth was the first person to catch Percy's attention in a long time. She was the one who made the first move, and she was the one who made Percy see her, even if their first few moments of interaction made him think she was the most annoying thing to ever exist. Because it occurred to Percy that if he wanted, he could've decisively kicked her out of his room and never saw her again. He could've side-stepped her advances, left her stranded and saved himself a few extra hours of sleep.

And this choice—though Percy knew she was far more than that—was beautiful.

It was unconventional. It was ass-backward, and it should be wrong, and maybe, in the end, Annabeth would just be the one who was there, but as Percy and Annabeth stared at each other, it didn't feel like that. Because she was like him, and she had a choice too. And Percy wanted to try, even if she wasn't the one.

"Where would we even go? It's past 11, so I don't think many places are open. Besides." She touched her hair and her chest, then ran a hand through Percy's bangs. "I don't think either of us looks very presentable, either"

"Then we have a date here. In my room. I can cook you something in the kitchen."

"The kitchen swarming with houseguests?"

"I do, in fact, live here and can, in fact, kick them out. But if anyone out there is stubborn like you are, I might just make out with someone."

Annabeth snorted and slid backward until her feet landed on the floor, after which she began toeing her heels off. "Very funny. But I know it's just me you wanna kiss."

Percy smiled as she finally stood flat on her feet—she came up just under his nose. He skimmed two knuckles under her jaw and tilted her head up.

"You're right. And if the date goes alright, maybe you'll let me do it again."

Annabeth licked her lips, and Percy immediately regretted ending their hookup. "Okay. It's a bet."

Dinner consisted of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (which he managed to sneak past Grover, who'd been surveilling everyone from the living room), and their date consisted of completely unbridled conversation.

It was easy talking to Annabeth—and he finally learned her last name—Chase. So easy to let his mouth run away with him as she listened intently over wheat bread and potato chips, easy to listen to in turn as she started detailing the nuances of her character. She had such a pleasant voice when she spoke confidently; Percy hoped she thought the same of him.

"Have you heard of the 36 questions to make people fall in love?" Annabeth asked an hour in—when that hour had passed, Percy wasn't even sure. "I think it was a psychology study from the 70s."

"I haven't," Percy said, setting both plates on his desk. Annabeth reached for her phone and started typing into Google. "What are you supposed to do? Just ask the questions?"

"Basically. You and your partner are supposed to take turns asking each other questions, and at the end, you're supposed to stare into the other's eyes for four minutes. It's not necessarily to make you fall in love, but you're supposed to be closer with your partner afterward." Annabeth glanced up at him, grinning as she waved her phone in her hand. "Do you want to try?"

Using the words fall in love felt heavy for a first date. He knew the game was supposed to be light-hearted, but—what if he actually developed substantial feelings when it was all over? Did he want to form this attachment to Annabeth Chase so quickly? Was he ready for that?

And then, as quickly as that thought popped into his head, another, bigger one replaced it:

He was already attached to Annabeth Chase.

She was prideful, entitled, and confusing as all hell, yet, here Percy stayed, unable to leave her orbit. And yet, he found himself open to answering those questions with her. And yet, he slowly realized that even if this didn't work out and they never saw each other after tonight, he would think about her every day.

That was terrifying. That made Percy want to back out before he dug himself too deep.

"Sure. Sounds fun."

Annabeth beamed. "Great."

They traded questions back and forth—if you were to eat dinner with one person of your choice, dead or alive, who would it be? When was the last time you sang to yourself and to someone else? Do you have a secret hunch about how you'll die?—and the longer they went, the more seriously Percy took it. He liked hearing Annabeth's answers, if not for the answers themselves, then the way she thought each over carefully, choosing her words from a shelf of her substantial vocabulary to correctly convey her point. Watching her brain work was more fascinating than anything. Percy's insides were going mushy.

"Take four minutes to describe your life story in as much detail as possible."

Percy cleared his throat, sitting back against the wall. "Asking the heavy hitters now, aren't we?"

"Not that great, eh?"

Percy sipped his glass of water slowly before letting the straw fall out of his mouth. "To say the least. Lots of… trouble with authority figures even after doing nothing wrong. Money problems, single mother, the failure to implicate the proper accommodations for potential learning disabilities. Diagnosis of said disabilities. Still not getting accommodated for them." He shrugged, swirling the straw in his drink. "American public school, am I right?"

Annabeth hummed in vague agreement. "I totally get it. Imagine how hard I fought to get a proper ADHD and dyslexia diagnosis. They thought I was faking it because my grades were decent, and I had an entire basketball scholarship at the tips of my fingers. Not to mention the fact that I'm a woman. It took years before any doctor believed me."

Relief couldn't even begin to describe the feeling that flooded through Percy.

He began to see why researchers came up with this definitive list to manufacture a sense of intimacy because half of the things he admitted to Annabeth were things he wouldn't even confess with a therapist. How was his relationship with his family? What role did love and affection play in his life? Was he about to receive another diagnosis?

"Ooh, this is a good one," Annabeth said. She knelt on the bed next to him, and Percy resisted the urge to hug her closer. "Alternate sharing a positive characteristic about your partner. Share five times each."

They were virtual strangers, so Percy thought it would be hard to respond—but they were already on the second round of questions. He already knew what college Annabeth graduated from, where she was studying to get her master's, what she majored in, what her current job was and what she wanted to do in the future. Percy knew her favorite food was hot dogs because her mom would get her one anytime they went to a Yankees game. He knew her preferred yacht rock singer was Rupert Holmes because her dad used to play the song Escape (or The Piña Colada song) repeatedly on their record player. He learned that her first technical kiss was with a boy named Mikey in the second grade, and her first actual kiss was with a girl named Hannah in the ninth. Those had to amalgamate into something.

"I can start," Annabeth said, searching between Percy's eyes. "You seem to be very loyal to your family. Or to your mom, siblings, stepdad, and Grover."

To a fault, some would say. "Thanks. You are very ambitious with your goal to start your own architecture firm. I think it's very admirable."

Her smile would never not have an effect on Percy. "Thank you. Um, you're a clearly passionate person. I love how deeply you care about the environment and our oceans."

"You're strong-willed. You're definitely someone who gets what you want."

"Is that…a good thing?"

"I find it refreshing."

She told him that he was charismatic and a good listener. He said she was intelligent and courageous.

"And lastly," Annabeth said, suddenly in his space and mischievously grinning, "you're an excellent kisser."

She looked down at his lips, then back to his eyes, and Percy's Adam's apple bobbed. "Oh yeah?" Annabeth nodded and hummed in agreement, leaning in closer. Percy twisted his body to face hers and took her free hand, running his thumb over her palm. "Well, I think you're absolutely gorgeous."

His tone felt a bit serious compared to her subtle teasing, and by the way Annabeth drew taut, she could sense it too. But how could he not be genuine when telling her what he thought? She was gorgeous, drop-dead. Her cute and slightly crooked nose, top lip a little thicker than the bottom one, and round eyes. Shiny curls sprouted from her head like dandelions in early spring. The two small hoop earrings in each ear, her curled eyelashes. Thick eyebrows. Soft skin peppered with imperfections he wanted to find all of.

Thighs he wanted around his hips and ears.

She was even gorgeous when she blushed. "Thank you. You're gorgeous too."

"Don't sound so sure of yourself."

The questions ebbed and flowed in terms of difficulty to answer. Annabeth's eyes were filled with tears when they discussed family and friendship, and when the question "who was the last person you cried in front of?" came up, Annabeth joked and almost said Percy's name. It almost felt like too much; that morning, he couldn't pick Annabeth Chase out of a lineup, and now he felt like he could write her obituary when she died. What item would his mother save in a house fire, given her family and pets were safe? Percy couldn't tell you—Annabeth Chase, though, would have saved the sketchbook she'd kept since fifth grade.

"Okay, Jesus, last question," Annabeth said, brushing her fingers against her cheeks. She was lying on the bed, hair splayed out underneath and over her bare shoulders, claiming half the space like she rightfully owned it. Percy sat with his knees tucked to his chin, resisting the urge to brush a stray curl from her forehead. "Ask your partner for advice regarding a personal problem you've been having lately. Ask your partner to reflect to you on how you feel about this problem as well." She glanced at him, dropping her phone against her chest. "Can I go first?"

"Go for it."

"Okay." She looked to the ceiling, watching the ceiling fan spin dust around his room. "Well, there's this guy I was supposed to go on this blind date with, but given my track record with the dating scene, my time split between work and school, and the fact that it would take place at a house party, no part of me wanted to go. Still, after lots of convincing and a dinner bribe, my friend managed to drag me to the party. When I got there, I spotted the guy I was supposed to go on a date with, and I thought he was unfairly attractive, if not a little closed-off—but I chickened out and told myself I didn't have the time to invest in a relationship. So, I decided to duck into one of the rooms for the rest of the night.

"As it turns out, the room I went into was the room of my blind date. Instead of apologizing for invading the date's space and leaving, my pride got the better of me. I projected my insecurities onto the guy. He didn't even do anything wrong." She pursed her lips and sighed, her phone rising with the movement of her chest. "Things escalated to this weird sexually-charged limbo, and now I don't know if he would want anything more with me because I was so quick to eject from the conversation and change the topic. I guess I just want to… apologize. Or at least let him know that anything I might have said to offend him, I said because I don't always know how to handle my feelings. Which is something I'm working on. In therapy."

Percy hadn't had a crush in a long time, so he didn't have much of a point of reference for the feeling fluttering in his chest. But if he were to get a textbook on crushes right now, he knew he would have a classic case, down to the sweaty palms and accelerated heart rate.

"I see," Percy said after some time. He cleared his throat and joined Annabeth in staring at the fan, giving himself something to focus on as he assessed her problem. "Well, if the guy is anything like me, my guess is that your date forgave you the second you started opening up to him. You showcased a lot of vulnerability he probably admired because he never got the chance to be truly vulnerable with someone, not deeply or emotionally. He probably wasted three years being with someone safe, who he saw as home because she was the one constant in his life. Until he couldn't hold on to safety anymore, not when his 'safe' was just a relationship built on proximity and friendship and not something substantial. But uh—" he cleared his throat again, realizing he was going off-topic— " The person you're talking about will understand more than you think because he was also projecting his insecurities onto you. What you said probably had some truth to it, anyway."

Annabeth sat up and scooched forward until she sat in front of Percy. Her hair was messy on one side, her eye makeup was on the verge of running, and any trace of lip product was gone, and she was still the prettiest thing Percy had ever seen. Gods, it was a crush, wasn't it? She would never leave his mind at this point.

"You think so?" Annabeth said, fingers tracing the hair on Percy's arms; she must have noticed the hairs standing on end. "And how do you think I feel about it?"

"Way guiltier than you should, Annabeth."

Annabeth hummed, resting her cheek against his forearm. Her face was warm, flushed. "You're right." Her eyes met his, and Percy's heart was going to explode. "I'm sorry I was being a brat. And for kissing you to deflect from admitting you were right." She paused for a few seconds before adding, "I also wanted to kiss you because you're unbelievably hot when you get riled up, which is unfortunate because I'm afraid I'll have to rile you up all the time."

Percy couldn't take it anymore; he leaned in and kissed the tip of her nose, which she immediately wrinkled. "I forgive you. You practically kissed me into forgiving you, anyway." Her top left canine tooth was crooked, which he realized when she grinned at him. "And it usually takes a lot more to upset me, so I'm afraid you're stuck with the base model."

Stuck with was the wishful thinking he meant to keep hidden until the third date at the earliest. Like this would really last once they both left the room. Like Annabeth liked him the way Percy liked her. He was thinking so far ahead that he was about to lap himself.

"The base model is also very handsome," Annabeth said, lifting her head to lean forward and kiss his cheek. His skin felt hot where her lips had been (his skin felt hot where her lips hadn't been too). "Don't you have to ask me for advice now?"

"I just wanna know how I'm going to survive the next four minutes of a fucking staring contest when all I want to do is kiss you."

Annabeth giggled, and Percy ceased functioning. How had he not heard her laugh until this very second, and how did he get her to keep doing it? It was the most perfect and imperfect thing, quiet, loud, genuine, and polite all at once, and it was ruining Percy. Should Percy be honest about his feelings more often for her to laugh again? He could do that—he would do just about anything to amuse her.

"You're not the only one struggling." Percy unfurled his legs, and Annabeth climbed onto his lap and wrapped her arms loosely around his neck. He grabbed her hips. Her dress was rucked up until Percy could see the edge of her dark-colored panties. "How about you kiss me anyway?"

Percy's resolve was exponentially dissolving by the second, and all he wanted to do was make her come on his tongue. But the rapidly fading part of him wanted to finish the experiment, just to see what would happen, and if when the clock hit zero, he could tell the world he loved Annabeth Chase.

"Let's do the staring thing for one minute," Percy said, digging his own phone from his pocket. "And when the timer goes off, we'll kiss or keep going for the next three. Okay?"

Annabeth slowly nodded and drew closer, pushing her breasts against his chest and ruining him even more. "Okay. Start the timer."

Percy clicked start and looked into Annabeth's eyes. For the longest time, prolonged eye contact made Percy immensely uncomfortable, fearing that the person he was staring at would attack him for sizing them up. And while it wasn't much easier to maintain Annabeth's gaze, it was difficult for another reason. Maybe because he knew the eyes were the window to the soul, and his soul said that Grover would have a hell of a best man speech at his and Annabeth's wedding. He was too hopeful, too naive, and he knew it. But wasn't it better to…what was the phrase again? Better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all? Did that apply to this, or was his brain trying to fill the silence that filled the air?

No, there was definitely some truth to his thoughts. His heart had been slowly opening all night, and as Annabeth's pupils dilated as she saw through the front Percy was putting up, all that remained was his vulnerability and the hope that she was feeling even close to what he was. Hope that the fucking rollercoaster of emotions they'd been on wasn't fabricated in his mind.

Her dark eyes were warm. "You're so pretty," Annabeth whispered, twirling a lock of his hair around her finger. "I hope you get called pretty often."

"I don't."

"Then I'll have to fill the quota. Your eyes are beautiful, Percy."

Then she smiled, and Percy's ears were red, and then the timer went off, and Percy had no strength to keep staring when her lips were right there. Percy turned off the alarm and hugged the girl in his arms closer, and when Annabeth's eyes fluttered closed, he leaned forward to close the gap.

Then there was a knock on his door.

Their lips had only touched for a second before they jumped apart, looking at the door. After a few seconds, another louder knock and a soft voice sounded suspiciously like Grover telling him someone spilled something on the rug. Percy groaned and rested his forehead against Annabeth's, who stifled a laugh at his exasperation.

"You should go clean that up," Annabeth said, brushing her nose against Percy's. She rubbed Percy's arms before gently pulling him away and sliding off his lap. "I'll be here when you get back."

Percy knocked his head back against the wall, shutting his eyes and taking a deep breath. So close. So close to touching Annabeth's lips, laying with her on the bed, letting her do whatever she wanted to him. He probably would've done anything for Annabeth. He wanted this to be good for her.

And now he had to clean someone else's mess. Talk about a mood killer.

"You promise?"

Annabeth ran her thumb over Percy's pouty lips. "Promise. Not like I can really go anywhere anyway."

With effort and enough reluctance to make him not want to do anything again, he crossed the room, opened the door, and ignored Grover's bewildered look at his half-undone shirt and mussed-up hair.

"Where is it?"

Chapter 2 will be posted in a few days! It's already mostly written, so you'll have it no later than this weekend. It's literally pure, PWP smut. And more feelings. Smut and feelings.

See ya soon!