Title: On Planes
Author: Bellsie
Disclaimer: Not mine
Pairing: Annabeth/Leo
Rating: PG-13
Author's Note: First foray into this fandom.
;';
In the dark of night, on planes, they whisper. Secreting secrets through orifices on their skin. Orifices that don't belong there—orifices for which they never asked.
She's sleeping and he's watching. She's vibrant and he's bitter. There are stories that start like this. Usually something along the lines of "Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins…"
The stars that reside millions and millions and millions of miles away light up her face more brilliantly than any fluorescent lamp. She's asleep and he's awake. She's breathing and he's drowning.
(But there's always oxygen in water, he reminds himself.)
Annabeth's hair is mussed and he reaches his hand out to let it rest above her head. It is a halo. A second halo. An unnecessary one.
She stirs. He feigns sleep.
;';
She never sleeps well. On her toes, on her toes! To pacify Leo, she pretends to rest as the plane swoops through the sky.
(Swooping—she shudders. Vultures swoop, birds fly, planes crash.)
But the weight on her lids is too heavy. Sleep doesn't arrive when there's a gorilla and a man pressing into her eyes. Sleep doesn't arrive when the air fills will droplets of tension—beads of anxious perspiration.
Annabeth knows when people are looking at her. She's a pretty, pretty girl and she knows as much. She's spent years growing up with men staring at her. She's become adept at knowing when they're watching.
And he's staring now. There are his eyes—timeless and sagacious—his eyes—
She feels something graze a stray hair on her head. They are 30,000 feet above the ground (oh, safe ground!) and he's the only one close enough to…
To touch her. To want to touch her. To make her shout his name in gasps—in moans.
She stirs at the thought. She cracks an eye open to catch his hand in the act of hovering.
But all she catches is Leo dozing and frolicking somewhere in the Land of Nod.
;';
He likes playing games with her. It keeps his mind sharp and his heart fit. She's got an edge—it pricks and makes him bleed, but it feels so good to bleed. It feels so nice to be human.
He doesn't handle young women well. She's young. Younger than he is, and he's never been one for May-December nonsense. Most of them are stronger than he is and he's intimidated. He's no better than a teenage boy. Regression is a symptom of maturation.
Leo lets his eyes flit open to find that her eyes are now half-open. He quickly squeezes his eyes shut. He knows she's affronted by his obvious avoidance, but he wants to see if she catches onto the game.
When he opens his eyes, hers are closed again.
;';
She thinks she understands. She steals his watch, so he wants to steal her heart. Well, it is a Rolex.
If she wakes up, then he goes to sleep. If he wakes up, then she goes to sleep. Simple really.
But is sleep that easy? She thinks and muses for a moment.
Her nickname in high school was Charlotte—Charlotte the famous spider in E.B. White's children's book. She weaved webs of lust around high school boys and spun stories of power around high school teachers. "I can give you this…"
She peeks once and sees that his eyes are moving rapidly around underneath his lids. He's waiting. If she's a spider, he's a fly…
And she's always been known to tailor traps.
;';
"Oh! Oh! Leeeeeooo! More! More!"
His eyes fly open.
;';
Annabeth—1
Leo—0