CW: Implied sex
Percy can't believe he just went through with getting a tattoo. His arm feels like he got snapped with a rubber band about a million times. It stings. It itches.
Annabeth keeps assuring him that it's supposed to feel like that. The artist she found online in about two minutes did a great job, and Percy sat like a rock, which he now knows is a compliment.
"Stop touching it," Annabeth says.
"It's itchy," he complains again.
Annabeth switches the pastry bag to her other arm. "And it's going to look like shit if you keep touching it. I'll put Aquaphor on it for you when we find the hotel."
"You mean if we find the hotel," he says.
About an hour ago, Nico and Will sent a text to a group chat called QUESTIE BESTIES saying that they found a hotel, but neither had texted since then. Annabeth just found out that Will has her location, but she doesn't have his, so there's no way for them to find the hotel.
"If we don't find the hotel in the next couple of minutes, I am going to push a homeless man off one of those benches there, and I will rub Aquaphor on your arm like a braless love interest in an action movie," Annabeth declares.
"Sure, you will," he quips.
She taps her free fingers against her chin. "Actually, no, I won't. You're right. I'm going to stuff one of these pastries down my throat and then I'm going to push a homeless man."
"Have you texted Will?" Percy asks. "He's got to be worrying about you by now."
Annabeth looks at her phone and frowns. "My texts don't say they're delivering." She shows Percy a string of green text messages that have failed to send.
"Yeah, those aren't going through," he explains. "Is there a chance his phone's dead?"
Annabeth smacks her forehead with her palm. "Ugh. Yes. He never remembers to pack a charger for his computer when we go places, so I always have to bring it with my stuff."
"Oh," says Percy. "Well, I'll try to text Nico so someone knows we're alive." And so Will doesn't kill me, he adds silently.
Hey, we're on our way back. Can you text an address? He sends the text to Nico.
Nico's phone is set to Do Not Disturb. Notify anyway? the messaging app asks.
"Yes, notify anyway!" Percy taps the screen.
"Shit, Will's gonna kill you," Annabeth says.
Percy throws his hands in the air. "Ya think? He's practically been waiting to kill me all day!"
Annabeth scratches her neck. "Yeah..."
"Yeah?"
"Well, I can't exactly disagree," she says. "I'm sorry he's been an asshole; he usually only gets like that when I'm dating someone. He probably just got the wrong idea when Zebediah... you know."
Percy can't say he wouldn't be too embarrassed to admit to a hickey caused by a starfish.
"I'll clear things up when we get back," Annabeth says. "Don't worry about it."
At first, Percy does worry because Will can be scary when he wants to be. He remembers the day Will found out Nico hadn't received a vaccine since 1940. Percy thought it might be helpful if he said he didn't get an annual flu shot. That mistake ruined Labor Day.
He and Annabeth turn a corner and scare a small flock of pigeons. They look silly walking away when they could just fly. Then again, pigeons are silly birds. They'd walk a mile for water before drinking from the puddle right next to them.
And then Percy realizes he hasn't been heckled by the starfish in his Yeti water bottle for a suspiciously long time. Percy has done some things worth being heckled over in the past few hours, so he twists his backpack around to his front. The water bottle isn't in its usual pouch. "Oh no. No, no, no."
"What?" Annabeth asks.
He cannot have lost the one thing his father gave him for this quest. Zebediah might be an asshole, but he's a living creature.
"Zebediah's gone," Percy says. "We have to find him."
"Yeah, so remember how we were just talking about how Will was a dick to you?"
"Okay?"
Annabeth shrugs. "I might have put Zebediah in his man purse."
"You... You what?"
"You know I'm a petty person."
Percy was going to take care of Zebediah's water situation when he got to the hotel! He was going to ask Zebediah for questing directions and...
And none of that is his problem until he gets back to the hotel, where Nico and Will are in a locked room with Zebediah safely tucked into a water bottle. He can't bother them because they don't understand fish-speak.
It's a miracle.
"So you're telling me we were alone and I didn't even know?" he asks. "We could have gone out to dinner! We could have sat in a restaurant like two normal people and eaten..."
"Snails?" Annabeth supplies.
"We could have eaten snails! We could have had a private conversation!"
Annabeth cocks her head to the side. "Maybe I'm mistaken, but did we not just have a private and vulnerable conversation about my trauma?"
Oh, they did. Percy supposes he didn't feel alone because of the assumption that Zebediah was present and because of the tattoo artist, but Zebediah hasn't been here this whole time, and the tattoo artist had no idea what they were saying.
He won't ask her for confirmation, but if Annabeth went through all this effort to get some alone time with Percy, maybe she meant to tell him about her past. Maybe that wasn't so spontaneous after all.
"Hey," he says. "You probably don't want to talk about this anymore, but-"
"I don't," she says shortly. She looks at the ground and then back up at Percy. "Sorry. Go on."
"Thanks for trusting me with all that," he says. "That must have been hard. I know this is probably too little, too late, but if there's anything-"
"You've done enough," Annabeth says. "I mean it. You're... you're great, Percy. Thanks for letting me tag along, and for like, saving my life back on the train. I never got to thank you for that."
Percy takes the box of pastries from Annabeth so she can push the button at the intersection. "And I never got to properly thank you for saving my life when that boar knocked me out."
"And at the club," she says with a smirk.
"What happened at the club?"
She takes in a sharp breath through her teeth like she regrets saying that. "Don't be mad."
"No promises," Percy says, even though he's finding it increasingly difficult to become frustrated with her.
"So this guy gave us these drinks, and I could tell right away they were laced, so I might have drank yours too."
That and coke?
Wait.
"Annabeth, you could have died!"
"But I didn't," she says nonchalantly. Then, she stops in front of a building and purses her lips, as if contemplating going up the stairs and into the cozy... lobby?
"Wouldn't it be funny if this is where Will and Nico ended up?" Percy asks.
"Almost as funny as us forgetting to tell them they could have used the New Rome credit card to pay for the hotel room?" she responds, her speech broken by a yawn.
Maybe they should feed Nico and Will some of the delicious pastries they got, but it's been about five hours since they promised dinner. If those two haven't gotten their own food by now, then something is seriously wrong.
"I'm calling it," Percy declares. "Hold this." He passes the box of sweets to Annabeth and then types out a text for Nico: Annabeth and I are turning in for the night. Drop your location when you see this.
He reads that over and decides it's a little too formal, so he adds Good night! and then sends the message. He can't have Nico thinking he's mad. Gods, he's anything but mad. They're here to help out with the quest. That's a really good thing.
"I can use the card on a room with two beds if you want," Percy offers, holding the door open for Annabeth.
"It's okay," she says. "I mean, I think we'd both prefer two beds, but we just used the credit card on tattoos and expensive pastries. If I remember right from the itinerary I read on the plane, this might have actually been one of the honeymoon stops."
Per usual when Annabeth says something like this, about a million questions cross Percy's mind. How is she okay with sharing a bed with him? Were there really honeymoon itineraries printed out on the plane that Percy never read? How did Annabeth memorize the very French name of this hotel? How did she read it in the first place with her dyslexia? Where even is the plane right now?
More importantly, what happened to not caring about spending New Rome's money?
And because Percy is just so smart, he says, "What?"
Annabeth sighs and passes Percy the pastry bag, and then goes up to the concierge, folding her arms over the desk. "Anything under Zhang?" She spells out Frank and Hazel's last name while the concierge types away on an obnoxious keyboard.
Annabeth turns around, swinging the room key on her finger. "Ready for bed, fake husband?"
Percy smirks. "Depends. Do I get to sleep in the bed tonight?"
She chews on her lip as if pondering this and then says, "You know, this whole time I never said you couldn't sleep in the bed. That was all you, Seaweed Brain."
He opens his mouth to object and then he realizes.
That was all him. The only one sabotaging his sleep was himself.
***
Annabeth comes out of the bathroom, eyes glued to her phone to the point where Percy wonders if she remembered to wash her hands. Her thumbs are flying across the keyboard so fast, he's afraid they might fall off.
"What's up?" he asks.
"Will said his phone died," Annabeth explains.
"I still can't get over the fact that he went on a quest and didn't pack a portable charger."
She throws the phone onto the duvet. "That's what I said! And then he was all like, Oh, it was such a spur-of-the-moment thing!" Annabeth's Will impression is hilariously accurate. Percy can never get it right; he always went a little too heavy on the Texan accent.
"Anyway, I can't be too mad at him because he says he brought extra clothes," she says. "Got 'em for you too. He figured you'd need something more than the dress clothes you wore at the wedding."
Percy looks down at his blue-flowered Hawaiian shirt. "What? You don't want to quest with a stylish guy like me?"
"Will doesn't want to quest with a stylish guy like you. Besides, that shirt reeks of... something," she says, wrinkling her nose. "You need to change. Stop scratching."
He drops his hand to his side. He didn't even realize he was picking at his tattoo again. "Do you have the lotion stuff? It feels really weird." Honestly, he still can't believe he went through with that. Hell, he can't believe he suggested that in the first place.
Oh, gods, he's going to have to explain his new tattoo to his mom. What if he gets addicted to them like Annabeth? That's not something that happens to people, is it? That can't be real. Getting a tattoo hurts.
Annabeth screws off the blue top of the container and puts some of its gooey contents on her middle and index fingers. "Take the saran wrap off for me."
Percy obliges and then holds out the saran wrap. "Should we save this?"
She shakes her head. "I don't think so. Now hold still so I can rub this on your arm."
"Dumb question," he says. "Is this going to hurt?" He feels kind of stupid for asking, but when you care for a wound in battle, it usually feels worse before it feels better. Hell, he used to lie to his mom about scraping his knee on the playground because that anti-infection spray hurt like a bitch. It's a wonder he never got a nasty infection.
"No," she says. "It's... It's going to feel great."
There's no way she means that, so Percy tenses up, bracing himself for the pain.
Annabeth bites her lip and spreads the cool lotion across his forearm. "No volleyball at camp for a while, okay?" she jokes.
"Yes, ma'am."
"And you're not supposed to submerge it in water either, but I think you've got that under control. No direct sunlight for too long, either. Just be gentle."
Ah, gentle, like how she's being with his skin. It does feel good, much to Percy's surprise. His skin is all but cooing at the moisture.
Annabeth bites her lip in concentration, causing her piercings to jut out just a little bit. For a moment, Percy wonders what it might be like to kiss someone with a lip piercing, purely for scientific reasons, of course. Is the metal cold because it's metal, or hot because it's against her skin? Do they taste metallic? Would it hurt a little if he tugged on the silver hoops with his teeth? Would she like it if it hurt a little?
Woah. No more of that.
"Cool," she says with a heavy sigh. "So, just like, put more of that on when it starts to feel tight or itchy like it was."
"Alright, thanks," Percy says.
They stare at each other for a minute. It's awkward like there's some elephant in the room that needs addressing. But here's the thing: Percy's pretty sure everything's out in the open between him and Annabeth. They are in perfect agreement that they are both a little bit screwed up and have come to terms with the fact that they use very different coping mechanisms. Hell, they've even tried out each other's coping mechanisms. They're friends. They're good. They're cool. Maybe they'll like, send each other Christmas cards, and comment on each other's social media posts. They did it.
So why do things feel so weird? There's this tension that Percy can't describe. He's never felt this way with anyone before.
Annabeth clears her throat, and the color rising to her cheeks tells Percy that he isn't the only one who felt it... whatever it was.
"I should do my own," she says, slipping off her high-top sneakers and socks. The space between them is intentional. Is he going to have to build a pillow wall between them when they finish their pastries and go to bed? Gods know, there are plenty of pillows in this room.
Annabeth starts at her ankle, peeling the plastic wrap from the begonias and spreading some of the Aquaphor there.
Percy can't help but stare at her toned leg propped on the bed. A subtle change in color separates her foot from the rest of her leg. She must not wear sandals in the summer.
"It looks really good," he says, even though he's mentioned it a few times already. It's nice to know he hasn't ruined begonias for her, and that she can see the flowers and think of him fondly.
"Thanks," she says. "It's new."
"Oh really?" he asks despite being a witness to her new tattoo just a few hours ago.
"Yup," Annabeth says, popping the p. "So are these." She lathers the Aquaphor onto her bicep until the tattoos shine. Percy takes note, not of how defined her bicep is or how soft her skin looks, but of how the Aquaphor is supposed to be applied generously until it shines.
And when Annabeth reaches down the waistband of her shorts, Percy's a little thrown off, and he feels bad for staring.
"What's down there?" he asks, immediately feeling embarrassed at the question because he does not mean it like that.
Instead of making the joke Percy anticipates, she winces. "So I did get a tattoo in Prague when I was... you know."
"What is it?" he asks.
She looks at the carpeting. "It's not exactly the most badass tattoo I've ever gotten."
Percy shrugs. "Well, you were high, so I wouldn't expect it to be. We can get it removed when we get back to the States if you want."
"I'm not sure I want to get it removed, though," she says. "Like, I can see that it's really important to me; it's something I can't get rid of no matter how hard I try, but I don't know exactly how I feel about it."
Is it appropriate for Percy to ask if he can see it? Maybe not, but she has every right to refuse. "Can I see?"
Annabeth looks up at him with intense eyes, as if noticing that he has something on his face that she can't quite figure out. For someone who was yawning in the hotel lobby, she looks more awake than ever now.
Maybe Percy shouldn't have asked that question. "It's okay," he says. "You don't have to-"
"I want to."
"Only if you're comfortable."
She folds the top of her shorts down until Percy can see the new ink just above her hip. It makes sense that she was hesitant to show it to him; he can't say he'd be willing to show off something so blatantly obvious to the person in question.
Between her hip and her belly button is a tattoo of an anchor. It's simple; there's just some line art with some shading, but nevertheless, it's there. It's a nautical tattoo, the very thing she's been trying to steer clear of lately.
"Well?" she asks. "Say something."
Percy doesn't say anything; he's afraid of opening his mouth and saying something dumb because he's starting to suspect what might have been left unsaid between the two of them.
Instead, he takes the container of Aquaphor from her and coats some on the tattoo. Maybe what he's doing is more stupid and awkward than kind, but even if it isn't her favorite tattoo, it deserves to be cared for like the others.
Just because someone's capable of caring for herself doesn't mean it isn't nice to be cared for every once in a while. Percy knows that better than anyone.
Annabeth watches his fingers as they trace the shape of the ink on her skin. Her eyes are thoughtful but better than ever at disguising any emotion.
"Does it hurt?" he asks.
She shrugs. "I've had worse." She's said this before, always lighthearted and in such a way that might warrant a polite chuckle because yes, as demigods, she and Percy have certainly had worse. As far as mortal experiences go, however, Percy can't say he's had it as bad as her.
He looks up at her face. It's certainly seen better days. Her neck is still bruised from a starfish that calls her inappropriate names she can't hear, and at this point, Percy's starting to hope the cut she got from the dog on the train is the sort of thing that'll look worse before it heals.
Percy's seen her relatively unscathed recently. He's seen her with fierce cat-eye makeup and in a bridesmaid's dress and still, she's never looked as beautiful to him as she does right now. Maybe it's because he's seeing the whole of her now. It's probably more the intimacy of the situation he just put himself into than anything else.
Or maybe it's entirely because they're two damaged people with nothing stopping them from doing something incredibly stupid right now. The odds are stacked against them, so it's not like they'll have to face the repercussions of doing something stupid.
Percy traces his thumb over the bruise on her neck. Her pulse is fast. "Is this okay?" he asks.
She nods. "Yeah."
His thumb follows her jawline and then stops when he reaches the red cut. "Is this alright?"
Again, she nods. "Yes." She puts her hand against his, encouraging him to cradle her face. It's softer than he thought it would be.
They start to talk at the same time.
"Look, I-"
"I don't-"
Percy drops his hand and stands up to meet her eyes without straining his neck. "You go first."
"I don't want you to think that I'm taking advantage of you," Annabeth says. "I swear, you're not like other people."
"Neither are you," he says.
"I'm being serious."
"So am I."
She groans. "I am trying to have a serious conversation about consent with you, and you are screwing it up with your... with your... romantics!"
Percy puts his hands on her waist and looks into her stormy grey eyes. "Look, how's this? For some reason, I would like to kiss you, but only if you would like to kiss me."
"Shut the fuck up, Seaweed Brain." Annabeth grabs his face a little rougher than he's ready for and presses her lips to his.
He's shell-shocked, and for a time, he lets her do all the work. Percy may be out of practice, but he refuses to be a bad kisser. He moves his hands from her waist to her back rubbing circles with one hand and tugging at her chopsticks with the other.
Annabeth pulls away, and instead of scolding Percy for something he might deserve, she pulls the chopsticks from her hair, sending the golden curls cascading down her shoulders. She pulls her hair to the side and says, "Sorry, I am really frizzy right now."
"I don't care." He initiates the kiss this time, tasting her piercings with his tongue. They don't taste like much of anything, but he's perfectly fine with that because the muffled sound she makes when he sucks on the silver hoops is heaven and sin all at once.
Percy draws back. Something about having this woman in an emotional situation just a few hours ago and then doing whatever this is warrants a check-in, he thinks. He hasn't done this in a while.
Before he can ask, Annabeth does. "You okay?"
"It's just been a while for me," he says. "How about you?"
"I'm guessing a dry spell for me isn't exactly the same as it is for you," she says nonchalantly, "but if we're doing this, you should know I'm clean and on the pill, but I prefer to use a condom. You can never be too safe when you're only a couple of degrees away from Zeus."
He just stares blankly. He's never seen anyone so confident about sex, and sure, he knew that she was confident before their lips even touched, but seeing it in person is...
"Sorry," Annabeth says. "I've been told I can be intimidating, which some people are into, but uh..."
"No, it's fine," Percy says. "I didn't really anticipate this, so I don't have anything."
"I do," she says.
Percy cocks an eyebrow.
"Hey, you know us daughters of Athena—always prepared."
He chuckles and then closes the gap between them. "I'd like to go back to kissing you."
"Then what are you waiting for?" Annabeth laces her arms around his neck and plays with his hair while they kiss. Her tongue traces his bottom lip, so he opens his mouth, allowing her entrance.
Percy feels so goofy; she knows exactly what to do, and where to put her hands, and he's picking up right where he left off as an eighteen-year-old kid.
Then she reaches for the hem of his shirt and despite the clear conversation they had, Percy realizes just how real this is getting.
He is about to have sex with his ex-girlfriend, not knowing whether or not they'll acknowledge it tomorrow, and not caring either way. Is this how it feels to be free?
He replaces her hands on his shirt and lifts it over his head. Unceremoniously, Annabeth does the same with her own.
Beneath, she's wearing a simple deep purple bra. It looks so good on her that Percy tries to remember what underwear he's got on, and then he's at a complete loss. He's definitely wearing underwear; he just can't remember which pair. Maybe that's a good thing. It'd be kind of awkward if he responded to her sleek attire with the Finding Nemo undies he picked up in a six-pack from Costco. That would have been funny when they were together as kids but this is completely different. They are two completely different people.
Annabeth reaches for the clasp around the back and-
"Hey, slow down," Percy says, surprising himself. "I want to take my time with you."
And then Annabeth surprises him too. She blushes.
He didn't think it was possible, but he supposes some things do stay the same, like that and the fact that she likes neck kisses. Correction: Annabeth Chase loves neck kisses. Percy sucks on her pulse point, alternating between tongue and teeth. The low growl in her throat when he hits just the right spot is enough to calm any fear of leaving dark bruises that can't be blamed on a meddlesome starfish.
Finally, he reaches around her back, hoping that the way he snakes one arm around her waist is sexy. He drags his fingers up her spine until he reaches the clasp of her bra.
In trying to undo the clasp one-handed, he fumbles and accidentally grips her waist too hard. He used to be good at this.
"Sorry," Percy mutters.
"S'alright," Annabeth says through hooded eyes. "It's not a clasp." She backs out of Percy's grip and yanks the bra over her head like it's a t-shirt.
Before he can compliment the swiftness of her movements, he's distracted by her, so much so that he has to take a step back and admire the sight in front of him. With her pants unbuttoned and her shirt somewhere on the other side of the room, her new anchor tattoo from Prague is on full display.
Although she swore off nautical tattoos, that's not explicitly the symbol of Poseidon. An anchor keeps a boat grounded against a sea that doesn't like to be restrained. Percy's never met anyone in his life more than himself who doesn't like to be restrained; it's almost laughable the situation he's found himself in, having to turn down opportunities for the people he loves. Could it be possible his fatal flaw has become strong enough to restrain the sea within himself?
It's like the tide finally came back into Percy's life after ten years and washed Annabeth Chase onto the barren sandy shore, like some kind of beautiful miracle.
A bruise on her stomach has turned a pale purple since the wedding incident. He remembers being there when she got some of the scars on her waist; one particularly nasty burn from Mount Saint Helens has found a way to blend in with the curvature of her body over the years. Other scars are ones he's never seen before. He wonders if they're new from the fights she's gotten in since they broke up, or if he hadn't bothered to notice them before.
He's certainly noticing them now. He runs his fingers along them gently, tracing the outlines with as much admiration as you might show towards constellations if that's your thing.
"Bed?" she asks.
He nods like a kid in a candy store. "Bed." They giggle together like a pair of kids when he quite literally sweeps her off her feet and carries her off to bed bridal style.
When he lays her down, her blonde hair fans out across the pillow like a halo, which is ironic because Annabeth is no angel. Her face is painted with a shit-eating grin, and her body is a sin in itself. A shiver manages its way down his spine. Never has he felt so intimidated by a woman.
He wouldn't have it any other way.
***
Annabeth emerges from the bathroom, wearing Percy's souvenir t-shirt from Prague that just barely covers her ass. She's brushing out her hair, wincing a little when the brush gets caught in a knot.
"Hey," he says, turning down the bedsheets so she can climb in.
"Hey yourself," she replies.
Percy joins her under the covers. He was just inside her a few moments ago. She can stand to share some space with him. Besides, this bed is huge. It's not like they have to cuddle.
Annabeth tangles her legs in his and pulls the covers over her body. She rolls over and reaches for the lamp on the nightstand.
"Hey, wait," Percy says. "Should we... like, talk?"
She turns around and looks at him. "Look, Percy, that was great. I had a blast. I'm just really exhausted and it's kind of hard to think straight..."
"Oh."
"I promise, we can talk about it in the morning. I just need to sleep on it," she says. "Don't make that baby seal face; babe, you know I can't resist the baby seal face."
"What baby seal face?" he says, faking innocence.
"The one where your eyebrows get all squishy and you do that pouting thing," Annabeth says through a yawn.
"Oh? Like this?" He widens his eyes and sticks his bottom lip out even more.
"Get over here," she says, holding her arms out.
Yes, cuddles! Percy practically dives into the hug, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on her breasts. Octopus cuddles are his favorite, and not just because of the name. He loves the way she plays with his hair and presses kisses to the top of his head.
"We can talk in the morning," she says. "I think you need to sleep on it too." With that last word, Annabeth reaches for the switch on the lamp and turns off the light.
But Percy doesn't need to sleep on it. No matter how much he wants the best decision to be waiting until the morning to figure out his feelings, there's this feeling deep down in his gut.
He already has an inkling of what his feelings for Annabeth truly are, and he's never been more terrified in his entire life.