Hello friends! Sorry for the late update. Ski season's almost over (racing finals are on Sunday, so crossed fingers!) but everything else is starting up, like music competitions, recitals, concerts, etc. Lots of practice and pressure. Anyway, finally got this chapter done, and I have to say it's one of my favorites, so I hope ya'll enjoy it! :)

(Title's from Check Yes, Juliet by We The Kings)

•

July 24th, 1775

"…and Doctor Franklin will be announcing the beginning of the post office tomorrow," Paul Revere continued, folding his hands on the table.

Annabeth shared a look of delight with Percy, who was sitting next to her. His green eyes mirrored the excitement in her own, because finally, finally, the colonies were going to have their own post office.

The American Post Office was the official title. It had been a project of Ben Franklin's for years now, and Annabeth had obviously heard about it before, but now the dream was becoming a reality. No more would the colonists have to worry about British officers going through their mail, reading letters and other mail that didn't belong to them. No longer would the colonists have to worry about their mail being lost, or forgotten, or stolen along the way and never reaching its final destination.

Instead, there would be riders whose main task would be to safely deliver mail across the borders of the colonies, working tirelessly to get every single piece of mail to its destination.

Annabeth was thrilled about it, to say the least. She knew Percy was just as excited as her, judging by the way he hadn't shut up about it the past week and the gleam in his eyes as he leaned forward into the table, gaze boring into Paul Revere's. "Is there anything we can do to help, sir?" he asked eagerly.

Paul chuckled. "Well, that's what I came here to meet you about."

Annabeth glanced around the table where they were sitting. The three of them were at a tavern; it was late, probably almost midnight, and the only people left in the large room besides them were a tired-looking young woman wiping down tables, and the innkeeper himself, a well-known Patriot.

Annabeth pulled the hood covering her hair and most of her face tighter; Percy, almost unconsciously, did the same. The two of them would be in high suspicion if anyone saw them meeting with Paul Revere himself, but they hadn't had a choice. Paul Revere had contacted them and told them to meet him at the pub, and that it was highly urgent. That's all the information the two of them had been given.

"I need you two to substitute as riders for the postal route, just this once," Paul continued. "The riders who were going to carry the post were inexplicably—delayed, shall we say."

Percy's face clouded in anger. "So they were either bought out or threatened so they wouldn't ride?" he concluded, leaning forward. "Paul, this is dangerous."

Paul chuckled dryly. "More dangerous than what you're already doing?"

Annabeth couldn't exactly argue with his logic, though she saw Percy's fist tighten under the table. She bit her lip. "We'll do it," she said decisively.

Both men turned to her with expressions of surprise. "And here I thought I would have to convince you," Paul said, raising his eyebrows.

"What are you doing, 'beth?" Percy hissed. She elbowed him. Percy squeaked, rubbing his ribs and glaring at her.

"You two, although young, are some of the people I trust the most," Paul explained, and Annabeth felt a surge of pride. "This first attempt especially must be successful, to show the people, both Whigs and Tories, that we do not need the King or his soldiers – no offense intended, Perseus—"

"None taken," Percy drawled, leaning back in his chair and playing with the gold buttons on his uniform.

Paul continued, "…to carry our mail up and down the colonies. If we can convince enough people to use the new post, then…"

"Then many more will be turned to the Patriot's side," Percy finished for him. "We understand that, Paul, but still—"

Paul Revere sighed heavily, the weary lines on his face causing him to look older than his years. "You know I would not ask you both if it wasn't completely necessary. You two are not only some of our top spies, but I care about you both. If we were to lose you…" he trailed off.

Annabeth faced Paul again, expression calm. "I already said, we'll do it. So when do we get started?"

•

The plan was to leave early in the morning from Boston and carry the mail to New York. Annabeth knew that with just the two of them, taking back roads and riding horses, it would only be a few days—maybe a week, at most—there and back, but her parents were worried. She had told them that she was going with Percy to visit a friend, and she knew they suspected nothing, but. There was always the risk.

Annabeth quickly packed a small bag, surreptitiously pulling on a pair of Percy's old trousers under her dress. She knew that there was no way she would be able to ride side-saddle at the speed they would be traveling, and she knew Percy wouldn't care if she wore trousers, however improper it might be.

The next morning, they were off. They passed through the Neck with little drama, the pass Annabeth had had her father write for her getting them through relatively quickly. Annabeth's horse—which Percy had obtained from one of his officer friends—was a quick, glossy brown mare, and as soon as the two of them were on the long, abandoned roads in the woods, Annabeth made Percy stop.

"Stop?" he echoed, even as he slowed Blackjack down. The heavy bag of mail bounced against Blackjack's side. "Why?"

Annabeth pulled her old frock over her head and stuffed it into her bag. Percy blushed and turned around. She just rolled her eyes as she grabbed one of her father's jackets she had stolen, before getting back on her horse. It was gloriously freeing, being able to move without petticoats dragging down her legs. "Practicality," she answered reasonably. Percy still turned his face away from her, and his cheeks were the color of cherries in June. Annabeth got impatient. "Dammit, Percy. You've seen me in less than this!"

His cheeks turned even brighter crimson, which was a feat with his tanned skin, but finally met her eyes. "I just—aren't those mine?" he murmured.

Annabeth raised her eyebrows as they began trotting down the road again. "Yes," she said, raising her voice a little of the sound of the horses' hooves on the dusty road. "What of it?"

"Nothing," Percy mumbled.

She rolled her eyes again. "Right." Whatever was going on in Percy's head, she knew he wouldn't tell her, so she just slapped the reins and galloped ahead, sending Percy a bright smile over her shoulder. "Come on!"

•

The next few days were relatively uneventful. They stopped at tiny inns overnight, letting the horses rest in the stables. It was all fine until one night—when they were nearly in New York—the two of them pulled into an inn, and there was a gang of British soldiers inside.

Annabeth glanced at Percy worriedly. It was late, the sun having gone down hours ago, and she was tired and sore and ready for a bed, but. The soldiers were drunk, and already they were talking among themselves and sending Annabeth lewd glances.

Percy seemed to notice too, and his fists tightened, but Annabeth took his hand. "It's fine. Don't make a scene," she hissed, squeezing his fingers.

One of the soldiers approached, his walk a little crooked, and Annabeth smelled the whiskey on his breath. "Aren't you a pretty little thing," he leered, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

Faster than she could blink, Percy had stepped around her and grasped the drunk man's arm in a vice-like grip. Although he was at least an inch shorter, his eyes were like ice. "Don't touch her," he said, voice calm and steady, but Annabeth could see the fury raging in his eyes, like a sea uncontrolled in a storm, and she felt a little bit of fear—not for herself, never for herself, but for anyone Percy ever turned against. Anyone who ever had the bad luck to be on the other side when Percy let the devil in him loose.

The other man faltered. "Damn, I didn't know she was yours—"

Percy let go of the soldier's arm, giving him a sharp shove. The other conversations in the little inn had gone silent, everyone watching the exchange. "She's not my property," he seethed. "She's my best friend, my other half. She's my wife, and if you or anyone else touch her again I swear to God I will—"

Annabeth's head was spinning a little bit as she put a gentle hand on his arm. "It's fine," she murmured. "Let's just get a room."

Percy tore his eyes away from the other man, and the soldier stumbled back to his other drunk friends, shaking his head.

Annabeth was still reeling from Percy's exclamation, but she managed to paste on a smile for the innkeeper, who had been watching the exchange with interest. "We'd like to get two rooms for the night," she said.

Percy stepped in. "One room."

Annabeth raised her eyebrows, but exhaustion clogged her mind, and she didn't really understand what he had just said. She just nodded, and the older woman acquiesced, leading them upstairs. Annabeth didn't let go of Percy's hand and could feel him trembling in her grip.

The innkeeper opened a door and led them inside. Annabeth thanked her, and the woman left before the two of them could actually look at the room.

As soon as the door closed, Annabeth realized her mistake. They had been getting separate rooms all throughout the trip, for the sake of propriety, but—the innkeeper thought they were married, and Percy had confirmed it, apparently. They had been given one room.

With one bed.

"What the hell was that?" she asked, whirling around. "We're married, now? And I suppose we'll both be sleeping in this bed?" She couldn't even imagine the scandal it would cause back in Boston, but in the backwoods of upstate New York, where no one even knew them…

Or at least, everyone in the building believed they were married.

Percy slumped. "I'm sorry," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't even think, I was so angry. He thought—at first he acted like you were worth nothing, and then he thought you were my property, like I owned you, and I just—I'm sorry, Annabeth. I snapped."

Annabeth had never seen him like this—chest heaving, hands shaking, all on her behalf. Protective, yes—angry, yes, but not like this. Not with the sea still swirling, raging behind his eyes, not with his shoulders trembling with exertion and anger.

"It's alright, Percy," she soothed, taking his hand. They would have to talk about this later, she knew, but not now. Not when they were both shaking with exhaustion and adrenaline, not when she was still reeling at the emotions that had swept through her when Percy called her his wife.

His head snapped up. "The reason I got us one room was because—I was standing closer to his friends than you were, and I heard them discussing perhaps coming up to your room later, and…"

Annabeth shuddered a little bit, at the thought.

"I wanted to stay with you," he said, his voice a little softer.

She nodded, still shaking a little bit. "Thank you, Percy," she said. Later, Annabeth blamed the exhaustion, but in a moment of gratitude she lifted Percy's hand, their fingers interlaced, and kissed his knuckles softly.

His eyes darkened a little bit, but Annabeth could see that the raging waters had stilled, that the anger that had consumed him only a few moments earlier had retreated.

She forced her voice to be steady. "Are you—are you ready to go to bed?"

He nodded; neither of them brought any extra clothing, having no room to do so, and they had been wearing the same ones all week. Annabeth couldn't wait to get a real bath and a change of clothes, but it didn't really matter.

They quickly got ready to climb into the bed; Annabeth pulled off her shoes and stockings and washed her face with the basin of water that was left by the door. With the summer heat still stifling the air, she also made a quick decision to get rid of her dress, Percy's trousers, and her father's linen shirt.

It left her in conspicuously little, and she could feel Percy's eyes widen before he turned his head with a blush. A warm feeling spread over her, at the difference between Percy and the men downstairs. At the difference between respect and entitlement, between love and lust.

Percy stood up and pulled off his sweaty, stained shirt, and she didn't deny that she had to tear her own eyes away from Percy's bare back as he bent down to take off his shoes and stockings.

They both were in very little clothing by the time they finished—which, Annabeth told herself firmly, was completely for practicality's sake. It was a little awkward, as they climbed in bed together; Annabeth was hyperaware of everything, from Percy's breathing to the fabric rustling against his bare skin, to the way the warmth of his body radiated over the cool sheets.

Neither of them used the coverlet, both far too sweaty to even think about being cold. Annabeth had opened the window, but even that just brought in more hot, sticky night air.

She tossed restlessly for a few moments, and heard Percy doing the same, until his hand found hers in the darkness. Annabeth touched his fingers, and Percy tried to pull away, but she held firm. She was still a little shaken by the soldiers from earlier, and honestly she just wanted some kind of comfort, some reassurance that someone was looking out for her.

Percy squeezed her hand, and they fell asleep like that, their hands intertwined between them. Annabeth forced herself not to overthink it—it was just something they did. Friends could sleep in the same bed, holding hands, right?

Right.

•

They arrived in New York the next day, making it to a little pub in the middle of the bustling city. Percy and Annabeth proudly distributed their stuffed bags of mail, and were hailed as heroes within the tavern.

"To the American Post Office!" the tavern owner yelled, raising his brimming mug of beer, and the entire pub shook with the answering shout.

It was incredible, Annabeth reflected; the people had been held in tyranny by the King's soldiers for so long, and now they could receive their mail without interference, without fear of others reading their letters or stealing money or other valuables.

It was relatively small, in the face of everything else the colonies were fighting for, but Annabeth knew it was one small step closer to freedom.

The journey back, thankfully, was uneventful. Annabeth was exhausted, and she knew Percy was too; over a week of riding almost all day, every day, was incredibly taxing to their bodies. The horses were fatigued as well, and the journey back was a little slower than the ride there.

Annabeth nearly cried, as they trotted up to her family's brick house and handed the horses off to a servant boy. Percy opened the door for her, and they were soon bombarded with questions from the twins and Annabeth's parents. Of course, her family thought she had been only a few towns away, visiting a friend, but the stories were easy enough to invent.

Afterwards, Annabeth was able to take a bath, and it had never felt so good to scrub the dirt from her body and pull on a clean dress.

"I'm going to sleep for a week," she declared to Percy at dinner, her long hair still damp and her skin feeling like it was glowing.

Percy, also scrubbed pink, grinned. "I think I will, as well."

Annabeth let her eyes linger on his face, as he turned to speak to one of her little brothers. He looked clean, and younger, and more innocent now—like a child. She laughed as he wiggled his eyebrows animatedly, as his bright green eyes sparkled in the light, and she remembered the way they had churched with anger on her behalf. How they had darkened, his pupils blown, as she had kissed his knuckles.

Annabeth found his hand, interlaced their fingers under the table, and when Percy looked at her with a grin and raised eyebrows, she just squeezed his hand.

•

August 17th, 1775

"Where are you taking me?" he whined.

Annabeth bit back a grin as she pulled him forward. "I told you, it's a surprise," she insisted hotly.

She knew that if his eyes weren't covered by a strip of cloth, he would be rolling them. "But I don't like surprises."

Annabeth huffed. Percy was such a child sometimes. "Well, you'll like this one," she promised, and focused on where she was going. "Ah, yes, we turn here. Come on!"

He followed her, and Annabeth tuned out his grumbling as she ordered her thoughts.

It was Percy's birthday, and Annabeth had decided that even though Boston was low on food and everything else, she wanted to do something special for him. Her mother had agreed to cook something special for supper, and it had been delicious, but Annabeth wanted to give him her gift alone.

"Almost there," she said, her voice a little nervous. The late summer sun was setting in the sky, and they were far enough outside the bustle of the town that Annabeth could hear crickets chirping and cicadas screeching in the distance.

They had reached their destination, so she stopped, and Percy did too, confused. "Can I, um. Can I take off the blindfold, now?" he asked awkwardly.

Annabeth stifled a laugh. "Yes, that would probably be a good idea," she said, untying it for him, but replacing the strip of cloth with her hands. "Now," she said softly, turning him so he faced the surprise. "Open your eyes."

She watched as he took in the sight before him, and then he began to laugh in disbelief. They were standing in a little meadow, a little ways outside the city. Annabeth had been here earlier, to set everything up.

"You—you made me cakes," he said, voice a little wobbly. "And you put blueberries on the top."

"Because blue's your favorite color," Annabeth supplied, twisting her hands together. "I've been saving the sugar for the cakes for months, and I found the blueberries on a bush by the Neck, and they're a little early, but—"

"Annabeth," Percy said, cutting her off with a hug. "I—I love it. Thank you."

Annabeth's face was squished against his shirt, but she hugged him back, not really caring, because he liked her surprise and it was his birthday and she loved him, her best friend.

Or maybe she was in love with him. It was kind of hard to tell, at this point.

"I'm glad you like it," she told him, a little bashfully, as she pulled away. "Happy birthday."

"It's amazing. Thank you," he said again, his eyes genuine, and Annabeth tried to still the fluttering in her heart.

They sat down on the grass, eating the little cakes Annabeth had baked, and talking and laughing. Annabeth thought absentmindedly that it was their own little corner of the world—the war didn't exist, the death and injuries the war had created didn't exist—nothing existed except the two of them, eating cakes until they were sick and laughing over nothing.

By the time they left, the sun was long gone in the sky, only the faint remnants of it lingering. Annabeth swung the basket she had packed the cakes in carelessly as they made their way down the abandoned cobblestone streets.

Annabeth was in the middle of laughing at something Percy said, when all of a sudden, he just froze. She stopped, confused; they had taken a shortcut through a narrow little alleyway, and the light from the street shone on Percy's face.

"What's the matter?" she asked him.

He didn't say anything, and Annabeth started to get a little bit worried. "Percy, are you alright?" she asked again, swinging the basket impatiently.

Percy took a step closer to her, his mouth moving like he was trying to say something, but wasn't quite able to make it work, and suddenly he strode forward and kissed her.

Annabeth froze, dropping the basket. It was too much, all at once, and before she even knew what to think Percy was pulling away, a look of horror on his face.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he mumbled, turning away, and his face, highlighted in the light of the street, was absolutely shattered.

Annabeth was still trying to wrap her mind around the fact that Percy kissed her, and she knew it meant so many things—most of all, that he might have felt the same way she did, towards him, and she wanted him so much it hurt—and then she realized that she had frozen, hadn't kissed him back, and she knew what he must be thinking right now.

She grabbed his wrist, spinning him around to face her. "Percy, wait—"

His eyes looked wide and a little wet in the dim lighting. "I'm sorry, please—" he began, but she cut him off by rising up and kissing him, a little desperately.

It was like he was unconsciously waiting for her. As soon as her lips touched his, he kissed her back—bruising and a little desperate—and flipped her around, and Annabeth felt her back press against the brick walls of the alley, and she knew her dress was probably getting dirty, but she didn't care at all, because Percy was kissing her.

It was entirely out of the normal range of affection, especially in public, and especially for unmarried couples. Annabeth knew, in the back of her mind, that even married couples kept touching to a minimum in public, and she knew that if anyone happened to see them, it would cause a scandal that even Annabeth couldn't begin to imagine, but. It was Annabeth's first kiss, and it was Percy. Nothing else mattered.

He was pinning her against the wall, and she let out a little gasp as he began to explore. His mouth grazed under her ear, sucked a little on her neck, and Annabeth had never felt this way before, had never felt the unfamiliar heat curl inside her stomach, never felt shivers crawl up her spine as Percy kissed her jaw.

"Is this alright?" he murmured against her collarbone, and even as she whined a little, Annabeth felt a rush of affection for this beautiful boy, who would never do anything without her permission, would never continue if she felt uncomfortable.

"Yes," she whispered, letting her forehead rest against his. "Yes, Percy, lord. I want it."

He laughed a little against her lips. "Good." And then he touched her side, fingers tentatively moving against her dress, and Annabeth shuddered. Never in her life had she been touched like this—this careful exploration that left her breathless and sagging against the wall, even as he held her up.

She unbuttoned his coat, and then slipped her hand under the hem of his linen undershirt. Her hand grazed his side, the bare skin smooth under her touch, and Percy let out a quiet groan. She sighed, fingers running farther up his chest, even as his hands traveled dangerously higher up her own; he sprinkled kisses all over her face, and she kissed his jaw, which made him shudder gracelessly.

They broke apart, breathing hard, and every one of Annabeth's nerves were electrified, standing on end, and all she wanted was more, more, more.

She stepped into his arms, and they both just stood in the dark alley, holding each other. Annabeth could hear his heartbeat, thudding quickly against her cheek as she pressed her head against his chest, and she smiled.

"So…" Percy began, and stopped.

Annabeth rolled her eyes, even as her breath was coming in short, quick gasps. "So, I love you—I'm in love with you," she said, and felt a wave of vulnerability wash over, saying the words out loud, because—

How long had she known? How long had she been in love with this boy? How long had she kept this secret from him, when all along he had felt the same way?

"I'm rather sure I love you too, so there's that," Percy said, and Annabeth was a little smug to hear that his voice was still a little bit shaking, a little bit breathless.

I did that to him, she thought. His lips were bruised and his hair was wild, pupils blown dangerously wide as he looked at her.

"Good," she said, and kissed him again. They would have time to talk, later, but for now—

He pulled back, breathing heavily. "Slow down, 'beth. Are you sure… I mean, this isn't exactly… normal behavior for, um. Unmarried couples," he said, and Annabeth laughed at the blush coloring his tan cheekbones.

"Have I ever struck you as someone who follows all the rules?" she murmured, and in a moment of recklessness, let her hand stray down a little bit farther than his torso.

Percy, his hands against the bricks on either side of her head, sagged a little bit. "Annabeth," he said, and that was all she needed.

"Do you want to go home?" she asked, and he nodded.

Percy took her hand, and they ran the rest of the way to the Chase's house, shoes clattering on the cobblestones and the cool air form the wharf tousling their hair and ruffled clothes. By now, it must have been eleven o'clock, and the streets were deserted, and Annabeth let out a peal of laughter carelessly. Percy glanced over, from where he was running next to her, and a grin lit up his entire face, and Annabeth stopped and kissed him, just because she could.

They stumbled in the front door of the Chase's home, shushing each other, breathless with laughter and adrenaline. Annabeth led him up the stairs, and this time she was the one to pin him to the wall of the hallway and kiss him senseless. His fingers traced her collarbone, found their way the cool skin of her shoulder blades, and Annabeth arched her back as tingles ran up and down her spine.

"Your room?" he whispered as he pulled away, eyes bright and pupils blown.

Annabeth nodded, taking his hand, and led him into her bedroom, and he kissed her as she laughed a little, and tangled her fingers in his hair, before drawing back.

Annabeth met his eyes, and he nodded, like a question.

She squeezed his hand and closed the door.

•

YASSS we finally have Percabeth! (only after like a year and a half wow) XD but yes, hope you guys liked that! :)

As always, thanks to my girls Helena (GollyGeeWhiz) and Mia (herecomesthepun) for being the awesome muses and all around cheerleaders that they are, and putting up with me making them read this thing numerous times to get their opinions. Also Mia for having GIF wars with me (which I always win cough cough) and Helena for being a Hufflepuff and trying not to get involved. Also Helena for BETAING THIS as always and doing a fantastic job. Love you guys! xx also check out their Percabeth stories if you haven't already bc they're INCREDIBLE

Thanks for reading! Please leave a review telling me what you thought of this chapter and PERCABETH YASSSS kay bye :)

WM