Percabeth Dirty One Shots and Drabbles

When you get me alone, it's so simple

"Let's dance," she whispered, leading him to the living room. His hands came to her waist, and she let him clutch at her while they moved their hips from side to side. Her clothing, a simple little black dress from Versace that she'd gotten herself as a birthday gift, clung to her body just enough to accentuate the divots in her hips and her soft, slim waist.

"You look stunning, Beth," she heard him murmur in her ear. She fought the urge to say, I know .

After a few more songs, she sat down again, nursing a brand-new flute of champagne and chatting amiably with the drunk actresses sitting on her carpet. Piper came around with her disposable camera, snapping more photos of the night. Someone shouted that they'd brought Ketel One; a dozen people swarmed the bar; Annabeth watched Percy mingle and take a shot. The night seemed to be slipping away from her, but she didn't really mind all that much.

A while past midnight Annabeth stepped outside. A few people were situated in her garden, passing around a spliff. She waved the smoke away, hating the smell of weed, then stood by the glass door, waiting. Almost immediately she felt an arm around her waist, and a mouth was on hers, kissing her deeply until she was breathless. He tasted of whiskey and vodka.

He pulled a pack of Marlboros from his pocket and stuck one in his mouth, handing another to her and lighting them both with a silver Zippo. She smiled up at him in thanks. She wasn't really a smoker- she used to, as a teenager, to stay thin for modelling- but she never said no to a cigarette, especially when she was tipsy. She took a long puff and flicked the ash onto the ground.

"How're you?" she asked him. He nodded, his cheek dimpling as he sucked on the cigarette and exhaled a long stream of smoke.

"Good. Lots of auditions. Uh... I'm doing a shoot next week. GQ."

She hummed. The filter of the cigarette sparkled pink and gold from her lip gloss, and she took another puff. He looked dashing in his dress shirt and form-fitting pants. She'd gotten him a small necklace with a tiny silver shark tooth the week before, and it laid now on his chest, glinting ever so slightly in the dim light. She could hardly see it. Without thinking she reached up and undid two of his shirt buttons, then pressed her finger against the pendant. He watched her lazily, taking a long, slow drag from his cigarette; then, without warning, his hand came to the back of her head and he blew the smoke into her mouth. The buzz was immediate. She looked up at him, hanging onto his shoulders for support, then kissed him hungrily. The taste of tobacco lingered on his lips, as much as the taste of alcohol and strawberry cake, and his tongue came to her bottom lip as his arm encircled her waist.

"I still haven't given you your birthday present," he whispered against her lips. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a box, wrapped in pink-and-blue polka dot paper.

She looked up at him with a smile. "Let's go upstairs. I don't want to lose it in the party." She crushed her cigarette butt into an ashtray on the nearby garden table.

He took her hand wordlessly, following as she led him inside and through the din up to the first floor. Her bedroom was, thankfully, unoccupied- though there were people having deep conversations, sharing vapes or hooking up in every other room- so she pulled him in and closed the door. A lamp glowed in the corner; she turned on a second one on her dresser, so that the room wasn't completely dark.

"Here." He handed her the little package, which was about the size of her palm. She took it with a grin.

Attached to the front was a small card. Annabeth, you are the smartest, most beautiful woman I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. Happy birthday. Percy, he'd scrawled in blue ink. She tucked it safely into her nightstand, then unwrapped the gift.