So I had the idea to continue this using one-shotish prompts for every one with Percy, there'll be one with Annabeth like with His Hair, Her Hair; and so on.

He always noticed her hair for some reason. When they had first met, on the porch of the Big House, that was the emfirst /emthing he noticed. The way it shone when the sun bounced off of her hair in waves. Most blonde hair got lighter when in the bright sun, but her hair got almost darker, more accentuated by the light, bringing out the dark blonde (almost brown) streaks in her hair. How it framed her face as a halo would.

The moment he saw it, he wanted to run his fingers through it over and over again. But he didn't because, well come on; having your best friend randomly run his fingers through your hair, that's like a seven on the 1-10 scale of weirdness. But as soon as they kissed on his birthday, he basically put a sign on her hair that said "Property of Percy Jackson."

Any time they were together, he had his fingers in her hair. Like right now for example: he had his back against a wide oak tree while she was laying down on the freshly cut green grass with her head in his lap. She was reading a book while he was concentrating completely on her hair, his fingers running slowly through her soft, bright princess curls. Peaches. Her hair always smelled of peaches, even when they had been on the road during a quest for days without showering, her hair always seemed to maintain this serene scent.

"What is with you and my hair?"

He was startled out of his stupor by her sudden words. He looked down at her face only to see that her storm cloud eyes were scanning the pages of her book quickly, as though she had said nothing.

"Says the girl who chauffeured me around so people could touch my 'mega super soft hair,'" he smirked.

He had the audacity to smirk. But he did have a valid point. She finally looked away from her book only to blush when she looked him in the eyes.

"So? That was like a month after we started dating. You've been obsessed with my hair sense before we started dating."
A fire hydrant would have been jealous of his facial colors.

"I think it looks really pretty and it always smells like peaches which is awesome 'cause I love peaches, and the way it curls and shines in the sunlight makes it look like a halo that frames your whole face and makes you look even more beautiful than you already are and did I mention it smells like peaches?" He said in a single huge breath.

She blinked; stunned that he had said all those things about her. Then she smiled. He had said all those things about her. And the way he said it was hilarious. So she did what people usually do at hilarious things: she laughed. After she started laughing, he blushed furiously.

"What? You asked me why I was always obsessed with your hair and I told you." She nodded and then leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. He smiled at her charmingly.

"What was that for?"

"You called me beautiful. Although I think I should be somewhat worried about the fact that you kept mentioning peaches. Obsessed much?"

"I again refer to the time when you drug me around camp, forcing everyone to touch my hair, against my will, I might add."

She blushed; they'd both been doing that a lot within the past few minutes haven't they?

"Well, it's soft!" They both laughed at the statement. She slightly shook her head and went back to reading her book. He continued to stare and play with her hair, twirling it between his fingers, slightly twisting the curls. He had seen her hair in so many forms; curled up into a bun while letting the majority flow down her back, plastered to her face and shoulders with sweat or water from the ocean, covered in blood and monster dust. All of these forms were beautiful to him because they were emAnnabeth/em. All of these things were a part of her and he loved every bit of it.

She smiled again, knowing he was in complete fascination with her golden, shinning locks.

When they both stood to leave back to their cabins, as Apollo had pulled his Sun Chariot almost past the horizon, illuminating the trees into a beautifully unimaginable scene, he walked her back to her cabin and as she turned to walk through the door, she did so quickly so she would fling her hair past his face. She laughed heartily when she heard him sigh mockingly as though he could die happily just because she flung her hair into his range of smell.

Percy had two things on his mind that night before the unconsciousness of sleep pulled him under: Annabeth and her hair.