~ * Art of Observation ~ *

Chapter Two

"Hmm, I love you."

"Are you talking about me or the cookies?" his mother teased as she pulled a fresh batch of her famous blue chocolate chip cookies from the oven.

"Both, but mostly you," Percy assured her, darting close to kiss her cheek, his hand sneaking behind to— "ouch!"

"Wait until they're cool," his mother scolded, kissing his cheek in turn and patting him loving on the shoulder, more or less because that was about all she could reach now that her not-so-little-boy had shot up like a weed and towered over her.

"Out with you, you can have some when they've cooled. You know I'll send most of them home with you."

"Most of them?" Percy repeated, letting himself be coaxed into the opposite side of the apartment where Paul, his stepfather, sat watching them in amusement.

"Hush you," his mother scolded affectionately, shoving him off onto his stepfather, who patted the seat next to him.

"So," Paul said as Sally shuffled back to the kitchenette and Percy squeezed his limbs into the small open square of sofa. "How's the expedition hunting coming along?"

It wasn't. After his internship ended two summers ago (the one that took him all the way around the world to the secluded waters of Sri Lanka where he caught his famed photograph) nobody seemed interested in him, one lucky photograph or not. Got a college degree? They'd always ask and his 2.7 high school GPA and associates degree in the arts from the local college were never enough.

"Oh, you know," Percy said awkwardly and Paul blessedly dropped it, giving his knee a brief squeeze before changing the subject.

As promised, Percy was sent off with a worn Tupperware bowl filled to the brim with gooey cookies.

"Hang in there champ," Paul said bracingly, pulling Percy into a big bear hug. "We're so proud of you, you know."

"Yeah, yeah," Percy said, not sure what there was to be proud of.

Sally gently elbowed her husband out of the way, holding her arms out to Percy, who gladly let himself be enveloped in his mother's tight embrace. Nearly a full head taller than his mother, Percy buried his nose in her hair, which no longer smelled like the artificial sweetness of the candy store she worked at to push him through high school but rather ink and sweet vanilla. It didn't make him feel any less safe or loved; despite it all, she somehow seemed to smell the same.

"Love you," she whispered, kissing his cheek when he pulled away.

Visiting his mother was like recharging his batteries, he actually hummed the whole way up the stairs, the container of cookies warm in his hands. It was only a quarter to seven, he had plenty of time to nip into his apartment, change, attempt (and likely fail) to tame his hair, brush his teeth because he probably smelled like sugar—

Aaaand Annabeth Chase was leaning against his apartment door, waiting for him.

"You seemed to have . . . dropped something," was her greeting and Percy's eyes dropped in horror to his shirt, which was sporting an unimpressive and large chocolate stain.

He didn't even want to know what his face might look like, although he imagined it wasn't unlike an overgrown toddler.

"Um," his brain helpfully stalled out, staring at his very attractive, very put together and so out of his league neighbor. "Cookie?"

And he all but shoved the Tupperware into her face. She stared at him, her perfect face morphed thanks to his view via cheap plastic.

"No, thank you," she said, reaching out to lower the Tupperware and Percy only hoped his face wasn't as red as it felt.

"Right well, ah—" dear lord somebody just strike him down now.

"Come on, we need to talk," Annabeth commanded, overruling his stalled brain. She pushed herself away from the door, head held tall and proud.

So out of my league, Percy thought as he obediently trailed after her. She held open the door to her apartment, holding the door open expectedly and Percy rushed to step through, only to freeze in the doorway as he took in his new surroundings. Logically, he knew that her apartment was the same as his—on the surface anyway. All the apartments on his floor were cookie cutter copies—kitchenette immediately to the left, conjoined with a living room, one small bathroom, one bedroom—but Annabeth's apartment felt entirely alien.

He could see the floor—and it was white. Was his carpet supposed to be white too? She hadn't repainted any of the rooms, sterile white walls that had clearly been washed (did people seriously do that, wash walls? He didn't know those people even existed). A posh, off-gray couch sat in the living area, a polished black end table opposite and a matching off-gray chair. The kitchenette was immaculate, and an honest to god fruit bowl sat next to an expensive looking . . . coffee machine? Expresso machine? Percy wasn't sure. He felt like he had stepped into a client's house, one of those snooty, rich mothers whose husbands made millions and never came home.

"Shoes."

"Huh?"

Percy whirled, a little wide-eyed. Annabeth stared at him expectantly. When he didn't respond in a reasonable span of time, she pointed to his feet.

"Your shoes, if you don't mind."

"Right, right," Percy said, his brain catching up.

He bent over, remembering only when he went to untie his, like, hundred-year-old converse that he still held the cookies. He hesitated, not sure if he could put them on the floor because it looked so clean and what if there was chocolate on the container? Flustered, he held it awkwardly in one hand and hobbled up and down, managing to one-handedly untie his shoe on the second or third try.

You absolute train wreck of a human being, he heard a voice distinctly like his overbearing cousin Thalia scold him.

"Come on in and sit," Annabeth invited, blessedly not watching the disaster that was his life as she headed towards the couch.

Shoes properly taken care of, Percy followed her in, situating himself on the chair as she perched on the couch, the cookies awkwardly cradled in his lap.

"Would you like anything to drink?" she offered out of what was obviously mere politeness as she gestured to her own cup of tea, steam wafting from the brim of a delicate porcelain cup.

"Ah, no, thanks, I'm, ah, good, ah—"

"My father and Helena will be in town for two weeks," Annabeth said, saving him from further embarrassing himself by skipping right to the point. "Now, if you would be willing to put on a face for them for a few brief—"

"Sure."

Annabeth pulled herself up short, blinking at him.

"Sure?"

"Yeah, sure," Percy repeated with a shrug.

"I didn't," Annabeth's brow puckered. "I haven't even offered you anything yet."

"Offered?" Percy echoed in confusion, not sure what she meant. "You did offer me something to drink?"

"No I mean," she looked frustrated. "Money or compensation of your choice for helping me deal with this situation."

"Oh," Percy shifted awkwardly. "Well, it's not like it's a hardship or anything. I mean, it's not exactly terrible to pretend to be the boyfriend of someone as beautiful and talented as you." The word slipped out of his mouth without his permission. Her lips hitched up a fraction and, his face burning, he hastily added, "you know, and your parents aren't bad people, they were kind of nice to talk to."

"Helena's not my mother," Annabeth said, still looking rather pleased by the beautiful comment.

"Oh?" Percy asked and, because curiosity killed the cat and he never learned better, pressed, "step-mom?"

"Yes," Annabeth said, looking none too happy about it. She sat back in her seat, reaching out for her tea and taking a long drink. Percy, never the most patient person in the world, tried not to squirm or repeat the curiosity.

"My parents were never married. My father married Helena when I was a girl but . . ." she pursed her lips, a careful emotionless mask descending over her features. "We were never close."

"My parents were never married either," Percy volunteered, sensing this was a touchy topic and trying desperately to make it better. He instantly winced the second the words left his mouth—yeah way to go, undermine her experience with his own sob backstory way to go.

"Did he ever marry?" Annabeth asked, staring into her tea as if it held all the answers to the universe. (It might—Percy's ex-girlfriend believed in that sort of thing and she had an unnerving knack of predicting things before they happened passed. Thalia said that predicting they were going to break up wasn't a prediction but a breakup line, but Thalia never liked Rachel. Besides, Rachel once predicted Nico would meet his long-lost sister and that came true so.)

"Ah, well, he was kind of already married," Percy said, scratching the back of his head as his face burned. And because he could practically feel her judging his mom, jumped immediately to her defense. "My mom didn't know. She was pretty upset when she found out. So was my stepmom. Obviously."

Her face was still blank and Percy found himself panicking a little. It really shouldn't matter what she thought about his birth—this was the twenty-first century, after all, it wasn't like his lot in life was determined by his parent's marital status. So what if his dad was a serial adulterer, it had nothing to do with Percy's character. He had learned to tune other children out in elementary school after a few dozen brawls and explosions. His mom loved him, his mom was a good person. Poseidon loved him, Poseidon was sometimes a shitty person but he had his moments.

Amphitrite even loved him, so he wasn't lacking in validation on any front so the opinion of this random stranger he had literally just started talking to didn't matter. So why was he so desperate she understood? It wasn't like she was the first pretty girl he'd seen in a while (in his line of business, he saw plenty of beautiful women and while it did render him tongue-tied on occasion, he never had such a strong urge to impress someone in a while.) There was something about Annabeth, something different.

Might have to do with the fact that her dad and stepmom burst into his apartment and made him feel wanted and special, but that meant confronting his dismal self-esteem so he ignored it.

"Do you get along with your stepmom?"

"Amphitrite and I didn't get along at first, but I grew on her. She introduces me as her son now so, yeah we're pretty good."

Percy wasn't sure if that was the wrong or right thing to say because Annabeth gave out a frustrated sigh and leaned back in her chair.

"Helena and I are . . . well, it doesn't matter. She's my dad's wife and they're here for two weeks and I need a fake boyfriend."

"One fake boyfriend at your service," Percy said, jumping on the topic change with pleasure.

Annabeth snorted at that, taking another drink of her tea. "Alright," she said, leaning forward to set her coffee down and picking up a notebook and fountain pen that lay on the table between them. The switch from begrudging stepdaughter to efficient businesswoman was immediate, and her new no-nonsense attitude was kind of hot.

"So we need to iron out the details," Annabeth flipped opened up the notebook, turning to a page that was already three-quarters full of neat albeit it large scrawl. "I told my father I had a boyfriend back in April so we've been dating for three months."

"Should make it five," Percy suggested.

Annabeth's pen froze. "Why?"

"Well," Percy shrugged awkwardly as her steel-gray eyes lasered in on him. "It just seems like you're not the kind of person who jumps up and tells dad you have a boyfriend the second after you get one? I mean, I wouldn't even tell my mom for a few weeks until I was sure it was a thing and we're really close. Not that I think you and your dad aren't—maybe I'm wrong and that is the kind of person you are, I barely know you I know, and if I'm—"

"No, no you're right," Annabeth interrupted, which thank god. "I wouldn't have told him right away. Five months is . . . is actually perfect. Five months." She made a note on the page, scratching something out and carefully writing above it.

"Okay, so we've been dating for five months. We just need to get a story straight on how we met, because I know that's a question Helena will ask and we should have stories that are similar enough but also different enough because we don't want it to sound rehearsed—"

"Okay, yeah, makes sense," Percy agreed.

"I thought about it while you were at your mother's," Annabeth plowed on, tapping the pen against her lips. "I'm the museum curator at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I'll tell them a few months back we hosted a temporary exhibit on local photography and you were one of the contacts I got in touch with and that's how we met."

"Sounds . . . reasonable," Percy hedged, wishing a museum was actually interested in getting in touch with him.

"I asked you out because I'm forward and you—" she pulled herself up short here, clearly afraid of insulting him when he so easily agreed to help her free of charge.

"And my masculinity is not threatened by forward women," Percy deadpanned. "Also I'm a bumbling mess. I probably dropped my entire portfolio over your floor when I saw how beautiful you were."

Annabeth gave a stifled laugh.

"Our first date was coffee."

"Coffee? Ugh really, isn't that so cliché?"

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. "You mean normal? That's what normal people do."

"Boring, you're not dating normal, you're dating me," Percy objected, grinning.

"Okay then, where did we go?"

"The carnival."

"What are you five?"

"Disney on Ice."

"What am I, your niece?"

"Okay that was pretty bad," Percy agreed with a laugh and to his enormous satisfaction, Annabeth Chase laughed with him.

"Alright, how about dinner on the boardwalk uptown?" Annabeth suggested.

"That sounds perfect actually, I could have nerded out and shown you the tide pools."

He winked cheekily at her and she grinned back before leaning over to scribble that down.

"So Dad and Helena will be over tomorrow, but I can just tell them you're at work. You can probably relax until Friday when I'm sure we'll get an invite out to dinner," Annabeth went on, the gears in her head obviously turning as she plotted ahead.

"Yep, that's fine, I'm here when you need me," Percy said, spreading his arms out slightly and clapping them down on his knee.

"We'll need to exchange phone numbers so I can contact you—"

"'S also like normal to have your boyfriend's phone number."

"That too. So after that, I'll just text you the details as they appear and we can go from there." Her statement was punctuated with the sharp click of the pen as she capped it, looking satisfied.

"Wait a minute," Percy said confused as she started to pack up the notebook. "We can't be done, we just got started."

Annabeth frowned at him, her nose wrinkling. "What do you mean? We have a backstory, a first date, how we met, I have your number—"

"Okay so we have one story but like," Percy floundered with his hands, gesturing vaguely, "we don't actually know each other. How are we supposed to pretend to have been dating for so long and not know a thing about each other?"

Annabeth chewed on her lip, eyes narrowing in what Percy knew was annoyance, but like he was pretty sure it was at herself for the entire situation and not him for opening his stupid (not so stupid?) mouth.

"Right," she said. "But what do you expect me to do about it? It's not like I can go back in time and change when we met."

"Yeah I know, but like we could . . . talk?"

"Talk?"

"Yeah, I mean, like right now just . . . talk and, ah, get to know each other. I mean we should at least have one real conversation with each other right?"

Annabeth thought it over, picking up her tea and draining it. "No, no that's . . . another really good idea. Let me make more tea, are you sure you don't want any?"

Percy thought about how awkward he was taking off his shoes and balancing the stupid box of cookies. No, he didn't think he could handle another object without embarrassing himself, especially if it was a liquid.

"No, I'm, ah, good thanks."

Annabeth nodded, standing and walking over to the counter. She fiddled with the maybe-espresso machine, pulling out a jar of loose leaf tea (and Percy only knew it was loose leaf tea because his aunt was obsessed with it) and busied herself making a new cup.

"So ah, big tea drinker than?" Percy asked because a) they were supposed to get to know each better and this seemed like an obvious question to ask and b) the silence literally killed him.

"It's the caffeine really," Annabeth admitted. "I tried coffee but it makes me too jittery." The machine began dispensing steaming water, Annabeth's hands on either side of it.

"I'm . . ." she paused, frowning at the machine. "I have ADHD. It's a lot better now as an adult but some things just—yeah. And coffee's one of the things that makes jittery but I still need to stay awake so, tea it is instead. It doesn't hit me as fast or something."

"You have ADHD?" Percy asked, surveying his put together neighbor in surprise. Her shoulders tensed and Percy quickly blathered out, "I mean, I have ADHD too so I was just—it's always kind of nice, I guess, to talk to someone else who has it too, because people are normally kind of assholes about it and it's crazy 'cause I thought people were jerks about it when I was kid 'cause like you're a kid but they're still jerks about it now as an adult and it's crazy because I think it's actually gotten worse and . . . ." He realized he was babbling and for a second he feverously wished he had asked for a cup of tea just so he could have an excuse to abruptly shut himself up.

Annabeth was staring at him. "Yeah," she agreed as the machine fell silent and the last drop of water fell. She reached out and grabbed the cup. "I thought . . . but you're right. People are just assholes."

Percy wasn't sure why the vulgarity sounded so funny coming from Annabeth but it made him crack a grin. She settled back down across from him, crossing her legs and pulling the notebook back out.

"So . . ." Percy asked, "What's your favorite color?"

Annabeth snorted, the question startling her so much that the tea jerked in her hands, precariously close to spilling over. "That's what you lead with? Of all the things you could ask to get to know me as a person and you ask what my favorite color is?"

Percy shrugged, "Colors tell a lot about people. Besides, what should I have lead with? Questions about your childhood?"

"I don't have a favorite color," Annabeth said quickly, wincing. She tapped the pen against the notebook, and Percy had a feeling the action was unconscious. "But I used to love silver as a girl."

Percy nodded, taking that information in. Silver, huh, that made sense. "Nice, I can see it." Annabeth's brow furrowed as if he were crazy but he plowed on before she could question the declaration. "Blue for me."

"Blue?" Annabeth's eyes trailed down to the blue chocolate chip cookies on his lap. "Now that I can see."

"Knew you had a sense of humor," Percy laughed, grinning as he gave the box a little shake. "Don't knock 'em, my mom made them and she makes the best cookies in all of New York."

"So you're a Momma's boy."

"Through and through," Percy agreed, unrepentant. "If you met my mom you'd understand."

"Should I have met your mother?"

"I mean, would that be moving too fast for you?"

"She does live in our apartment building, she was probably at your apartment one day when I came over."

"And she embarrassed me by bringing out the baby pictures she has saved on her phone."

Annabeth laughed like this was the best thing she had heard all day. "Bet she dressed you in a sailor's outfit."

"Nope, but I was an adorable baby."

"And humble to boot. What embarrassing picture did I see?"

"The time I got into her art supplies and spilled blue paint all over myself. I looked like a smurf and the stuff didn't come out for like a month apparently."

Annabeth threw a hand up to her mouth to stifle a bark of laughter, her shoulders shaking. Percy grinning, leaning forward to lean his elbows on his knees as he watched. She seemed almost like a different person, laughing freely as she casually reclined with her tea and notebook. He couldn't deny it was an attractive sight.

"Okay, I told an embarrassing story, now it's your turn."

"Oh no, see you were stupid enough to freely give that one," Annabeth snickered, shaking her head. Her hair, normally pulled back in an impeccable bun or ponytail (today it was a bun), tumbled around, a few brave blonde tendrils making a bid for freedom and cascading around her face.

"Hey, no fair!"

"Life's not fair," Annabeth countered. "I grew up in Virginia."

"No kidding, not a city girl, huh?"

"You were born and raised in the city?

"How'd ya guess?"

"Well the accent for one," Annabeth drawled, clearly amused. "And the snobbish attitude."

"Fair enough, but come on, New York is the greatest city in the world."

"Yes, this cesspool is my idea of perfection."

"Okay, so like where in Virginia?"

Annabeth told him about the quaint little Virginia house she first called home, about how much she hated the classic small house with its low bearing ceilings, and how her mother's apartment in San Francisco wasn't much better.

"I'd go to mom's every summer," Annabeth explained, voice distant. "When I was around twelve, her business became focused back in San Francisco. She threatened to take full custody of me so Dad moved out there. I think Helena's always resented me for that."

Percy recalled how excited Helena had been earlier that night, how she had called Annabeth dear and honey and seemed genuinely invested in the whole 'meet the boyfriend' experience. He bit the side of his mouth to prevent himself from opening his fat gib and ticking his neighbor off. Privately, however, he had to wonder at it.

"Well I'm a New York brat through and through," Percy admitted. "My parents were never married – well to each other at least but ah, yeah. Dad lives on Long Island with his wife and their two children—my half siblings I guess. We get along really well. Ah, a half-brother, Triton, and a half-sister, Rhode. Rhode's like eleven years older than me, Triton like eight I think. Ah, my parents had shared custody but they lived so close to each other that it was never like a thing. I mean, when mom worked I was at my dad's and when dad was gone I was with mom. My mom remarried when I was like thirteen. His name's Paul. He's really awesome, we get along well."

"Must be nice," Annabeth muttered and, if he wasn't mistaken, that was a hint of bitter jealousy in those words.

"Um, yeah," Percy admitted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. "So ah, that's like it, I guess. Nothing very exciting."

He opened his mouth to ask how she ended up in New York, when Annabeth's phone went off. She took the time to set the tea down, laying her pen carefully to the side before picking up the phone.

"Sorry, work email," Annabeth apologized as her eyes scanned the message. "I have to answer this."

"Ah, right," Percy said, scrambling to his feet and almost spilling the gooey chocolate chip cookies all over her nice, clean floor. He recovered himself, hoping his face wasn't as red as it felt.

"Here, add your number," Annabeth said, carelessly handing her phone over. Which was a terrible and dangerous decision really, Percy thought in panic as he prayed there was no chocolate on his fingers.

He added his name and number as Annabeth took another drip of tea, and the blonde took her phone back with the barest glance down at the newly added contact. She set the phone next to the pen, rising to walk him to the door, tea in hand.

"Alright, I'll text you more details as they come," Annabeth told him as they walked to the apartment door.

"Right, got it," Percy agreed, bobbing his head in agreement as he ducked down to collect his shoes.

Annabeth leaned against the wall, sipping her tea as she watched him put his shoes back on (without incident this time, thank god). It felt weirdly like the end of a date and when he turned around to face her, he got the sudden urge to brush one of the wayward strands of hair out of her face or something equally idiotic.

"So I'll be seeing you around then," Percy said, clutching the now lukewarm Tupperware to his chest.

"Yeah, I guess," Annabeth agreed and the corner of her mouth hitched up. "Thank you, Percy."

"Any time."

"You keep saying that."

"I keep meaning it," he said as he swept out of the apartment in what he hoped was a cool, dramatic way (it was probably bumbling and awkward but a guy could dream).

He told himself not to be a weirdo and look back as he left but the instructions got scrambled somewhere along the way from his brain to his body; his head turned and Annabeth Chase gave him an honest, full-blown smile that seared itself into his brain before she closed the door. Percy's feet took him into his apartment, his hands laid the cookies on the counter, limbs disrobing and pulling on faded pajamas. He sprawled out on the bed, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling, barely able to believe this day was real. Annabeth Chase's smile replayed in his head like a broken record on repeat.

What on Earth have you gotten yourself into? Percy thought as he let darkness pull him under.

A/n Oh wow you guys have blown me away with your responses to this stories. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, just thank you. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Shout out to my amazing beta, rhig122, for all her support.

Drop me a note, let me know what you thought, and, as always, I hope you enjoyed ~ *