Chapter 11
"baby, you showed me what living is for / i don't want to hide anymore"
- crazier, taylor swift
The area in which Percy lives is, to put it frankly, utterly disgusting.
As soon as they step off the train, Annabeth is hit by the overwhelming smell of dumpster. She has enough etiquette to not plug her nose so publicly but she finds herself scrabbling around in her pocket for a tissue to clamp over her nose under the guise of blowing it probably far too many times to even consider being subtle.
After the fifth or sixth time, Percy mumbles, "Sorry."
"About what?"
"Don't be silly, Lois. You've blown your nose about twelve times in the past minute."
"Oh." Annabeth meekly lowers the tissue. "Sorry, I just–"
"It's okay," Percy says cheerfully. "I know it smells."
Annabeth tries for a smile. "That's not necessarily a bad thing."
"Yes, if by 'smells' you meant 'of roses', not 'the inside of a toilet'."
"I mean. Whatever floats your boat, I suppose."
Percy starts to laugh. "Name me one person who would prefer a toilet to a rose."
"I would. I'm allergic to roses."
She's not, but it's worth seeing the bashfully pleased look on Percy's face afterwards.
They wander down a small alleyway that looks like it's survived six natural disasters. Washing lines are strung up above their heads like fairy lights, dangling between windows dripping water and clothes. They make the whole alleyway smell damp, a little like the smell you get when you wrap your swimming costume inside your towel, and behind the pungent layer of stale water Annabeth gets a whiff of thick cigarette smoke and something like pee. Instinctively, she reaches out for Percy's hand. She finds it quickly, her fingers wrapping around his before she can really realise what she's doing, and by the time she does and has flushed to the roots of her hair Percy has already adjusted their grip so their fingers are laced together.
Above them, someone yells and there's a shattering of glass. They pass a group of drunk minors yelling lewd things about girls, and Annabeth stiffens when one them yells, "Yo, Princess! Fancy a snog, eh?"
Percy's hand tightens around hers. "Ignore them," he mutters to her. "They're always there. All they do is talk. They won't actually hurt you."
Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be true today.
When Annabeth doesn't respond, the boy who catcalled her pushes himself off the wall. "Hey, I'm talking to you! What, you too good for me or something?"
Percy keeps moving, but Annabeth can feel her palm become slippery with sweat. She lets go of Percy's hand to wipe hers down the leg of her trousers and the boy takes the opportunity to grab her arm. "Hey!"
Percy lets out a startled little squeak but before he can do anything Annabeth whirls on the boy. His fingers are clamped around her bicep, his nails stained yellow and his breath reeking of beer. He looks maybe a year younger than her.
It takes Annabeth two seconds to Study him.
"You mute or something?" the boy jeers. He shakes her arm. "Talk to me."
"Let her go," Percy says bravely.
Annabeth ignores him. Instead, she stares at the boy right in the eyes. "If you don't get your hand off of me within the next five seconds," she says calmly, "I'll call the headteacher of Vineyard Middle School and tell her that her son is committing quite a serious felony."
The boy removes his hand like he's been burned. The other boys, the ones who two seconds ago had been whooping and hooting, fall silent. He stares at her.
"How did you know?" he whispers.
Annabeth really can't be bothered to explain it. Like. It was so obvious. He's got a good haircut and his trainers are expensive. He can't live around here – it's a dump and his family has definitely got the money to live somewhere much nicer. He's drinking in the daytime with a bunch of his friends – all of whom look like they do come from around here, because their hair is shaggier and their clothes are ripped and fraying – and even an idiot wouldn't day drink unless he had a real reason to. It was probably absent parents. The dad didn't matter – it was the mom that did, because if he really hated her he wouldn't wear the clothes (they were nice but they had definitely been chosen by a mom). And to know she was a headteacher? Well, he looks sensible enough. She can't be anything exciting, but she makes too much money to be your average teacher.
Honestly. It was so simple.
"I know places," is all she says. "Now. Scram."
She doesn't need to say it twice. Immediately the boy scarpers off, his mates lumbering after him with their six-packs of beer and dollar bin plimsolls.
She turns to see Percy staring at her in awe.
"How did you do that?" he asks in a hushed voice. "How–?" He falls silent. All he can do is marvel, like she had just sucker-punched her way out of it or turned into a flying horse.
Annabeth shrugs bashfully. "I, um. Guessed?"
Percy laughs disbelievingly. "That was a pretty lucky guess."
"Yeah. I wasn't even sure it was Vineyard."
That's a lie. She was. The boy was wearing jeans and a polo shirt to indicate he went to a public school but he had a Vineyard middle school pen poking out of his back pocket, and it looked too new for him to have had it since he attended.
"Well." Percy is still looking at her like she just descended from heaven. "I mean – wait, I haven't even asked if you were okay. Did he– he didn't try anything, did he?"
Annabeth shakes her head. "I'm okay."
Percy gives her a dead look. "Yeah, right. Let me look."
"I promise."
Percy doesn't stop staring at her until she relents and shows him her arm where the boy grabbed her. She will admit, it does actually hurt a bit – nothing massive compared to what she's used to – but she definitely is not expecting the ring of purple where the boy's fingers used to be. She stares it, almost as shocked as Percy.
"Lois, that's a bruise," Percy says, astonished. "We need to get to the hospital."
"No, it's okay," Annabeth says. "It doesn't hurt."
And it doesn't, not really. She's surprised that it's as dark as it is.
"That looks pretty serious."
"It's fine. Honestly. I have no idea why it's bruised so much."
Percy stares at her long and hard. Finally, he says, "Fine. But you're letting me have a look at it when we get home."
"Doctor Percy."
"Damn straight."
"Since when could you give people proper check-ups, Jackson?"
"Gabe," Percy says, so dismissively that the mood doesn't drop. "I got beat up a lot. I learnt how to take care of myself."
"Oh."
"Don't look so sad. It's not a big deal. We all do it."
He probably meant it in terms of learning how to put on a plaster, but for Annabeth it meant breaking her ankles and having to fix herself up in under three minutes before the bomb she had jumped out of a window for exploded.
Maybe they were more similar than she thought.
(Their general wellbeing, she means. Not the bomb.)
"Yeah," says Annabeth.
"I might actually want to be a doctor when I grow up," Percy says.
Annabeth cocks her head. "I thought you wanted to be a marine biologist."
"I do. But also a doctor."
"Marine biologist by day, doctor by night."
"Coming soon from Marvel."
They start moving again. They've been standing in a dark alley for so long that Annabeth hadn't noticed the sky slowly getting thicker with clouds, because once they're out and Annabeth peers upwards she's mildly surprised to see it blanketed in angry grey clouds.
"Percy," she says.
"Hm?"
"I think it's going to rain."
And, as if on cue, thunder booms in the distance and rain rumbles around them like confetti.
Annabeth absolutely loves Percy's mom.
After the rain starts, they both make a run for it. It's coming down hard and heavy, the raindrops hitting their bare arms almost painfully, and by the time they reach Percy's apartment block – which is still pretty unpleasant; it's covered in graffiti and it has a suspicious smell about it far too similar to pee for Annabeth's taste – they're out of breath, giggling and soaked completely to the bone.
As they're climbing the stairs to his apartment, Percy shakes his head like a dog, spraying the walls with water.
"I would complain," Annabeth tells him, "but I'm so wet and cold I can no longer feel anything."
"Oh dear," Percy says insincerely.
"At least try to make it sound meaningful."
Percy laughs. "I'm sorry. When we get home you can borrow some trackies and a T-shirt. Maybe that'll warm you up."
"Key word: maybe."
He groans. "Bloody hell, you're difficult."
Annabeth preens. "You love it."
When Percy grumbles, "Unfortunately," he does it almost too quietly for Annabeth to hear. But she does and she goes scarlet.
Luckily, he's too busy wringing out his shirt on the steps to notice.
He and Annabeth trudge all the way to his front door, trailing water behind them like capes. He unlocks the door and kicks off his shoes at the welcome mat, nodding at Annabeth to do the same, before throwing his keys on a hook by the door. "We're home, Mom!" he calls.
As soon as Annabeth steps in the house she's engulfed by warmth. While the area and the apartment block itself were shocking Percy's apartment was the homiest, loveliest place she's ever seen. It's not expensively furnished, not in the slightest, but there are books stacked up against the wall and photos all across the wall and framed quotes hanging absolutely everywhere. It smells like cookies and laundry soap and when Percy's mom comes around the corner Annabeth almost cries.
She doesn't even acknowledge Percy. Instead, she looks straight at Annabeth – tangled, stringy dark hair, wet clothes and sheepish expression – squealed and then wrapped her up in a hug that felt like summer and love.
"Oh, Lois!" she coos. "You're so pretty, sweetheart!" She turns to Percy for the first time, who looks a little disgruntled that he hadn't been noted of yet, and bats at his shoulder. "You didn't do her any justice whatsoever!"
"Nice to see you, too, Mom," Percy mutters, but there's no heat behind it. Percy's mom laughs and he rolls his eyes, stripping his shirt off.
And– yes. That happens. Annabeth has to pinch her knee very firmly to stop herself looking.
Maybe she should add it to her arm. Or write it on a bracelet. It might be more easily accessible that way. She could sell them. Have s'il enlève sa chemise ne regardez pas (1) sewn into them.
"Oh, for goodness sake, Percy," Ms Jackson says exasperatedly, her eyes twinkling. "Don't get naked in front of your guest. Go into your room – and watch how you hold that shirt, you're dripping water all over my floor."
Percy laughs and swings it above his head like a lasso, splattering water everywhere.
"Perseus Jackson – "
"All right, all right, I'm going."
Cheekily, he wiggles his bottom as he walks out the room. Annabeth is too busy admiring the way his back muscles flex to see Ms Jackson's fond eye roll, but she turns her attention back to her multicoloured eyes when she starts to speak again.
"It's so lovely to meet you, Lois," Ms Jackson says. "Percy's already told me so much about you already."
"You too, Ms Jackson." Then she suddenly becomes aware that she's standing in the middle of her hall covered head to toe in rainwater, and she takes an apologetic step backwards. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I'm covering your floor in water–"
"Oh, it's not a problem, love," Sally says. "I just harped at Percy because he's my son."
"I heard that!" Percy shouts.
Sally laughs. "How about you go over to Percy's room and see if he has any clothes to give you?"
"Sure."
Annabeth pads down the corridor. Sally disappears in the kitchen and Annabeth pokes her head through various doors until she comes across one through which she can hear Percy loudly serenading his wardrobe with an out-of-tune rendition of Under The Sea.
"Percy?" she calls, and the singing abruptly stops.
"Yeah?"
"Can I come in?"
"Can you?"
"Oh, shut up. I meant, 'are you decent'?"
"That depends what your take on decent is."
"Is your penis and/or butt hanging out?"
There's a pause and then a burst of laughter. "No."
"Great, I'm coming in."
Percy's room is almost exactly how she expects it to be when she opens the door. It's small and simple, with a mattress on the ground a lot like her and clothes everywhere. The walls have been whitewashed and there's something that looks like mould growing on the ceiling but it smells like boy and the sea and there are photos taped up on the wall. There are so many one of the walls is simply a sea of faces and colours, and Annabeth is briefly taken aback.
"Impressive, huh?" Percy materialises next to her. With a suppressed grimace, Annabeth notices quite quickly that by not classifying that a shirt would have also had to be worn in order for decency to be achieved she's standing remarkably close to a topless Percy Jackson.
Which is quite hard to easily dismiss. Because. Shirtless.
"Yeah," she says. "I like it."
"Thanks. It took ages, especially since Grover refuses to cooperate when it comes to pictures."
"Photo shy?"
"Picky. He's always like, 'no, I look awful!'"
"Huh." Annabeth sucks her bottom lip into her mouth. "I would have thought Jason would be like that."
"He is. It's just he looks perfect in every picture so he never needs to."
He's not wrong. Annabeth does another quick survey and notices that indeed, all the pictures that include Jason he always looks like a model at a professional photoshoot. Annabeth wonders if he smolders like that all the time or he has an inner radar that detects when a photo is being taken that switches it on.
"He looks like a Calvin Klein model."
Percy nods excitedly. "See, that's what I tell him. But he doesn't believe me."
"Does he have abs?"
Percy lets out a girlish sigh. "Does he."
Annabeth giggles. If she didn't know better she would assume Percy had a crush on Jason.
"Also," she says, "um, before I forgot, can I borrow some clothes? I'm a bit wet."
"Oh no, of course." Percy leans down and starts looking through one of his drawers. "Do you have any preferences?"
"Um, something dry?"
"Excellent choice." He lobs a T-shirt at her over his shoulder and then a pair of trackie bottoms. "I'll camp out in the bathroom, you get changed. You can leave your wet stuff in a pile there, and I'll get Mom to wash them to bring in tomorrow."
"Cool, thanks."
Percy smiles at her as he pads into the bathroom.
Annabeth slowly peels off her wet clothes. It's kind of gross, because they've half-dried now so they're stuck to her body and when she throws them on the ground they land with a wet smack, but she manages to take everything off. Unfortunately, her bra and knickers will have to stay on, and they're the wettest thing, but she supposes she can't everything.
She slides on Percy's trousers first. They're soft and warm and smell like him, and she has to hairpin the waistband so it fits around her hips and roll up the legs so she doesn't trip (because Percy has legs six hundred miles along and normal human beings can't fit into things like that). However, things go slightly askew when Annabeth begins to unfold the T-shirt, because at that moment Percy strolls in.
Annabeth screeches in alarm. "Get out!"
He doesn't. He just stands and gapes. "You're not wearing a shirt."
"Yes, I'm quite aware of that. Now please can you get out?"
"Oh, yes, sorry." He shuffles towards the door. "Um. I like your bra."
"Oh, thank you." Annabeth glances down. "It was on sale."
They stay like that for a bit.
Then Percy bows his head and says, "Well, I'll, uh, leave you to it," and waddles away.
As soon as he's gone, Annabeth glances down at her tummy. Months of living off of processed food with little exercise has gotten rid of her flat stomach and now it's a little soft – she pulls at it unhappily. Why, the first time a boy sees her with no shirt, does it have to be when she has some pudge on her? Ugh.
Crossly, she pulls on the shirt. It comes down to her thighs.
Abs are overrated, anyway.
Percy and Sally are in the kitchen when Annabeth pads in a few minutes later.
Percy shuffles up on the bench so Annabeth can wiggle in next to him. Their legs are tightly pressed together and Annabeth is quite hyperaware of everything that he does, whether it be reaching for another biscuit or even breathing heavily. The bare skin where their arms touch feels like it's on fire.
"Lois, sweetheart," Sally says, pushing her a cookie (for some reason they're blue, but Annabeth doesn't question it). "Tell me about yourself."
"Oh my God, Mom," Percy groans.
"No, it's okay," Annabeth says. "Well. I'm sixteen years old. I used to live in Florida. Uh. I like English. I don't like Biology. Algebra's cool."
Percy nudges her. "Insightful."
"Oh, hush," Sally chides. "What about your parents? What do they do?"
"This isn't an interrogation, Mom."
"They work in stocks. They're in Alabama at the moment for a conference."
"Ah." Sally stirs her tea. "That's lovely. Do you know what you want to do when you grow up?"
"An architect would be fun."
Annabeth has never told that to anyone. She bites down on her lip. Why the hell did she just say that?
But Sally seems delighted. "Oh, that's wonderful! Do you like designing buildings?"
Annabeth is about to say 'no'. Being an architect has been one of her secret dreams for years. If she weren't a spy, she would kill to be architect. Nowadays, it's more like she just kills. But then Percy sighs into his cookie a little, and Annabeth remembers that she's pressed up against the boy she has a crush on, wearing his clothes with her wet hair brushed behind her ears, and for a second it feels so homey that she lets herself get carried away.
"Yeah," she says. "It's, um. Sometimes I redesign popular buildings, just to see what I would do differently. Like the Empire State Building. If you rebuilt it in the modern era you could probably add a few different arches to it, like in the doorway. You would have to rearrange the measurements, because, like, you can't have a turret arch when the whole building is built like it is, but if you adjust the way it curves and make it so the base is flatter and more squat, then I think you'd be able to do it fine."
Sally watches her with soft eyes. It's such a mothering look that Annabeth almost cries. "That's wonderful, Lois. Follow your dream."
"Personally," Percy interjects through a mouthful of cookie, "You lost me at 'I redesign popular buildings'."
"That's because I'm smart," Annabeth says.
"Rude."
"I never said anything against you."
"You implied it."
"Implications don't exist."
Percy creases his eyes. "What– what does that even mean?"
Annabeth laughs, and so does Sally.
Annabeth wishes she could stay here forever. In a little bubble, with Percy and Sally and these blue cookies and the kitchen counters in a boy's clothes with inspirational quotes on the walls.
She looks over at Percy, who's laughing with his pretty eyes sparkling, and she thinks that maybe she could fall in love.
French Translation:
(1) - if he takes off his shirt, do not look
A/N GUYS WE HIT 100 REVIEWS
that's absolutely nuts. Literally thank you all so much for your endless support you're the best. And because I want to show you how much I love you I'm gonna do a quick respond thing because i want to all to know how much your reviews mean:
TheWritingManiac: where do i even BEGIN with you? you leave the loveliest loveliest loveliest comments actually ever and you're just amazing thank you so much xx (also she writes great stuff check her out i would suggest Give Me Your Hand [there's mayonnaise in your hair] it was be guaranteered to rip your heart in two)
WisePhoenix: you are amazing pal xx thank you for offering to help with French (i'll definitely take you up for that) and thank you for all your reviews you're amazing x
Captinjar: thank you! thanks for wishing me happy birthday and im so glad you liked the chapter!
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ImpossibleThings12: okay YOU friend you are so lovely xx you've commented on almost every chapter and they've always been so so nice thank you so so so much (also your pms are like the nicest thing ever) (also guys her poetry is amazing do check it out)
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all the guests who have reviewed: GUYS. You are the actual best. thank you all so much for all your reviews im just so so pleased and happy you guys like it and that we reached 100? like what?
anyway again thank you all i never would have done this without you guys and i'll see you next saturday! (also sorry this chapter isn't incredible and it's so late ahh) Bye! xxx