Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Percy was little, he fell from a tree. 

He remembered clearly looking up to the sky through the branches, the sun cutting through the leaves, making him narrow his eyes, and the feeling of the bark of the tree under his fingers. He also remembered vividly how, in the next instant, he fell to the floor, but he never recalled how the fall actually felt, though.

He once told this story to some mortal friends he had invited over to his apartment during the school year. His mother had laughed, amused at his very detailed story, and proceeded to tell him that it never happened. 

“Maybe you confused it when you fell from the climbing wall at the park.” She said, while his friends laughed at him, and she served them sandwiches. Percy had also broken his elbow in that fall, but his mother left that part out to let him have some dignity left. 

Either way, Percy was convinced to this day that he wasn't mistaking both falls, because he remembered both falls very clearly. He remembered being on top of the climbing wall, some kid yelling at his side, then he was on the floor, a blinding ache surging from his elbow, and then his mother appearing over him. He didn't remember more. 

But he never shook the feeling of the fall from the tree. Every once in a while, he would dream about it. He remembered every dream very clearly, especially the last couple of years, because every time his grandpa, or any evil side of the family from his father, wouldn't show up in his dreams, he cherished it. 

Percy dreamed that same fall the first sleep he got after the war was over. He woke up as always, before he hit the floor, jumping out of his skin and waking up groggy on his bedroom bed in Manhattan. He was lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling, and Annabeth's shoulder was right over his. He had half a mind to shove her over, but then remembered that was the shoulder she literally took a knife for him, and his stomach turned over. 

They had gone back to his mother before heading to camp. After they had hauled everyone on the buses and moved everything that had to be moved from the city for it to be ready when everyone woke up, Percy had forced Annabeth back to his apartment, with the excuse that he was exhausted (he was) and he didn't want her going back to camp alone (he didn't) even when she would be going back with all the other campers. 

His mother had said they could share a bed, Percy had blushed and nodded, but he didn’t know if it was such a good idea, even if his teenage heart wanted to, because his bed was as big as Annabeth was tall. 

So he stayed still like a statue, so tense he probably was forcing his jaw so much, it would hurt later. The sun was already out, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Annabeth's braids were everywhere around the pillow. She shifted, grunted, then let out a huff of hair. 

“It's humid here.” She murmured, and Percy turned his head to her.

“You are awake.”

“You almost touched the ceiling with the jump you did. What were you dreaming?” She sat up and slowly pulled her shoulder up. She had gauze around it, and his mother had lent her a pajama shirt with just straps so that it wouldn't bother her. The skin around it was slightly purple, and Percy couldn't look at it without feeling sorry.

He stayed down, while she rubbed sleep out of her eyes, braids cascading back, and Percy's brain a little hazy, not really because of sleep.

“I fell.” He replied, not giving more details, and Annabeth deadpanned down at him over her bad shoulder. 

Her thigh was pressed against his under the cover, and she was warm. Too warm.

When Percy realized that, he processed in his brain once he got over the blank that left the skin-to-skin contact, that she had said the room was humid, which it wasn't. Annabeth's forehead was a bit shiny, and her cheeks were rosier than normal. She was sweating. 

“Let me open the window.” He said, while sitting up and moving carefully around her to avoid hitting her on the shoulder. 

Once he opened the window, the morning breeze entered, moving the curtains and letting in some stray rays of sunshine. Annabeth closed her eyes, relieved, and Percy wondered if she had a fever.

“Do you feel okay?” He asked, moving closer. 

She hummed, still with her eyes closed, and maybe it was because of that that Percy put the back of his hand against her forehead. She was warm, but not as warm as she had been on the hotel balcony. 

At the contact, she opened her eyes slowly and settled them over him. Her eyes were soft, and with the sunlight, they looked like melted caramel. She looked at him in a way that made him feel a little raw; his lower back pulsated once, and her eyes fluttered. 

His stomach grumbled, ruining the moment. Or maybe not, because Annabeth smiled, slow and lazy, her eyes had a trace of sleep, and Percy thought if she could hear her stomach, she probably could hear his heart too. 

They went out of the room with the smell of overcooked bacon and scrambled eggs. When they reached the dinner table, there was a stack of blue pancakes on his usual seat and a number sixteen candle burning. 

"Happy birthday!" His mother came out of the kitchen, surprising them with a plate of bacon, the table set for breakfast. 

Her and Annabeth started to sing him Happy Birthday, and for the awkward moment where they sang, Percy focused on the number on top of the pacakes, and the image got a little blurry. 

Percy had been granted a wish the day before, anything he wanted, so now he blew out the candles with only one wish on his mind. The one thing the gods will not be intruding on. 

***

Later, when they were dressed again, Percy packed more clothes for camp and told his mother he would be back by the end of August with Annabeth. 

"Oh, you'll be here this semester?" His mother asked her between bites of eggs and a sip of orange juice. 

Annabeth nodded. 

"That's nice. Percy missed you last year."

"Mom."

"It's nice to tell your friends you miss them, Perce." She told him, even though she was holding back a grin, and Percy's ears were red. 

Percy didn't say Annabeth had been in New York last year, too, or at least, part of the year. They just didn't look for each other.

Annabeth had to put on the same clothes she had the day before, and couldn't bathe properly because she couldn't move her arm too well. 

"I'll ask one of my sisters to help me back in camp." She replied to his mom's request when she had offered to help her. Sally had not insisted after noticing the girl's embarrassed expression, and Percy was glad for that.

Argus picked them up outside his apartment a little past midday. They stumbled inside and sighed in relief at the air conditioner. 

"Why the fuck is it so hot?" Annabeth complained, holding her braids up with her good arm.

"New York to ya, Wise Girl." He looked at her, struggling to hold all her hair up with just one hand. "Do you need help tying it up?" He asked without even realising what his question implied. 

Annabeth had a satin scrunchie on her wrist that his mother had gifted her half an hour ago. He got a watch for his sister's sixteenth birthday and hugged her so hard because she had bought him something, even when he wasn't sure he would be there. 

Annabeth excused herself to the bathroom when she noticed his shoulders started to shake. 

"Uhm, yeah, kinda." She looked unsure, but Percy offered his hand, asking for the scrunchie. 

She turned a little stiff, so he would have better access to her hair, and he did his best job at not pulling her head. 

Annabeth was warmer than he was, and probably than anyone, and if it wouldn't be weird, he would be touching her forehead every ten minutes, trying to check if she was warmer than before or not. Percy would do it. Percy did not think it was because of the temperature of the day. 

He wanted to check that as soon as they got to camp with Will, before they took Annabeth into what he knew was fixing the chaos that must be Camp at that moment. 

She rested back, hummed, and closed her eyes. Percy, like the creep he was, stared at her for a little too long, enough for her to open one eye to look back.

"Stop staring at me." 

"You can lean on me." He said automatically, pathetically, too fast.

She frowned.

"What?"

"Your—your bad shoulder is to the window. If you want to sleep, you can—" He moved his shoulder, and he cringed at how lame he sounded. 

She blinked twice with big eyes. An owl looking back at him, basically. 

Annabeth stayed quiet for enough time that Percy was starting to feel as warm as she felt. But then she scooted closer, and for a stunned second, Percy didn't do anything, but then he moved closer to her, too. 

She lay her head over his shoulder, stiff and unnatural. Argus looked at them over the rearview mirror quickly, and Percy wanted to die, but at the same time, not move, not a single inch. 

For a while, the only sound was the tires humming over the road. The city slid past the windows in streaks of gray and gold. Early afternoon light bounced off glass and brick. Percy focused very hard on breathing normally. 

In. Out. Don’t be weird. Don’t be weird.

Annabeth’s hair tickled his neck; her shoulder was warm. He could feel how tense she still was.

They passed an intersection, then another. Traffic slowed. A bus hissed beside them.

Percy cleared his throat softly.

“Hey,” he said, keeping his voice low so it wouldn’t vibrate through his shoulder too much. “Look.”

She made a small noise. “Hm?”

He nodded toward the window. “That one. The skinny one with the green roof.”

She squinted.

“The— oh. Wait. No way.”

“Yeah,” Percy said. “The Flatiron-ish one you wouldn’t shut up about last year. The… uh… what did you call it… the Beaux-Arts wedge thing?”

“The Flatiron Building, Seaweed Brain,” she muttered automatically, but there wasn’t any bite to it.

“Hey, I said ‘ish.’”

A pause.

Then, quieter, “You remember that?”

Percy shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “You made me stand there for, like, twenty minutes while you explained wind loads and how they thought it was gonna fall over.”

“It’s a steel skeleton structure,” she said, reflexively.

“Right. That.”

“And it didn’t fall over.”

“Yeah, well. I figured if you talk about something for twenty minutes straight, it’s probably important.”

She lifted her head just enough to look at him. Her eyes were soft and still, that golden color they were back in his room. Percy might not have died the day before, but he might just die then.

“You remembered the wind loads,” she said.

He felt his ears go hot. “Don’t make it weird.”

“I’m not.”

But she smiled. A small sleepy one, then she settled back against him, less stiff this time. Her weight shifted, heavier, and more comfortable.

They passed the red-brick apartments near the river, a water tower, and a fire escape zigzagging down a building. Percy kept quietly pointing things out, half to fill the silence.

“Isn’t that the library with the lion statues you like?”

“Mmm.”

“And that park where you made me walk six blocks because the pavement pattern was ‘historically significant’?”

“That was cast-iron detailing,” she mumbled.

“Obviously. My bad.”

She huffed a tiny laugh against his shoulder, and Percy peeked a look from the side of his eye.

Each time she answered, her voice got softer. Slower. Her fingers, which had been curled tight in her pants, loosened, and probably without really thinking about it, she grabbed a fistful of Percy’s shirt. Like she was anchoring herself, or maybe him. Maybe both. 

She was good at anchoring him.

His heart did a weird, painful flip at the thought.

Outside, the buildings started thinning. More sky, fewer horns, until the city started fading behind them.

Her breathing evened out.

Percy waited a second.

“Annabeth?” he whispered.

She didn't answer.

He glanced down.

Her mouth was slightly open, and her eyelashes were resting on her cheeks. 

She was completely out.

Asleep.

On him.

Like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like Percy's heart was healthy enough to take it. 

Percy didn’t move. Didn’t dare.

Argus caught his eye in the mirror again, one of his eyes squinting like he knew exactly what was happening. Percy very subtly glared at him.

Argus just kept driving, and Percy looked back down at Annabeth.

Carefully, he tilted his head so it rested lightly against hers.

“Happy birthday to me,” he muttered under his breath.

***

Later that day, his birthday wish came true.

***

That night, he didn't dream of falls from trees, or mad titans that wanted to kill him, or weird visions of his friends in danger. Instead, he dreamed of fingers stained with blue coloring and a kiss that tasted like chocolate. The light from the bottom of the lake.

***

The first week wasn’t a week so much as a blur.

Funerals first. Too many.

Smoke from the shrouds curled into the sky day after day, the air thick with salt and ash and that awful silence everyone kept falling into after the flames died down. Names Percy knew. Names he didn’t. Empty beds in cabins that still had shoes tucked under them, like their owners were coming back.

Nobody really talked during meals anymore.

Then came rebuilding.

Because apparently the world didn’t pause just because theirs did.

Cabins with holes blasted through walls, roofs caved in, splintered wood everywhere. The Apollo cabin missing half its porch. Hephaestus looked like it had lost a fight with a tank. Athena’s roof had partially collapsed on one side.

Annabeth took one look at it and went straight into commander mode.

Clipboards were being passed around between her and Malcolm, leaving him officially in charge of the rebuilding of camp. Sketches of the new cabin, and a measuring tape hooked to her belt, discussing with the Hefestous cabin.

And then she was gone. 

Olympus meetings.

“Godly consultations,” Chiron called them.

Which Percy thought was a fancy way of saying the gods couldn’t make up their minds and wanted Annabeth to fix it.

She’d leave early in the mornings with a stack of rolled-up plans and come back late smelling like marble dust and storm clouds, exhausted and already half asleep on her feet. Or come back to supervise how the rebuilding was going, or got lost in the Ares cabin for hours. 

Sometimes he’d just catch a glimpse of her across camp.

Talking to Chiron, discussing something with Malcolm, gesturing wildly at blueprints.

Once, she waved at him from the Big House porch like they were just classmates passing in a hallway. When she was around for meal time, they would sit together, and she would talk his ear off about the rebuilding and ask him how he was, how he really was. Once she squeezed his hand while walking by like she meant to stop, but someone called her name, and she was gone again.

Neither of them really talked about anything more than the now. 

One time, he was brave enough to hook his foot around hers at meal time while Grover told him about how the nymphs wanted to help. She didn't look at him when he did it, but she didn't move away.

It was ridiculous.

They’d crossed oceans together, fought Titans.

They had kissed. Actually kissed. For hours.

And now?

Now, Percy somehow saw her less than the year before.

The whole thing left him off-balance.

By the fourth day, something in his chest felt… crooked, like the dock under his feet wasn’t tied down right, because they still hadn’t talked.

Not about the kiss. Not about what they were. Not about anything that mattered.

It had just… happened.

And every time Percy thought about bringing it up, what Grover said to him a couple of months ago after he caught them kissing came to mind. How they always did the same, kissed, and didn't talk about it like everything was fine. 

At the moment Percy understood, he really did. Now, he supposed, the excuses would never run out. 

What if this was just… that?

What if now that the war ended, and they kissed, she realized she didn't want this?

What if this was his quiet way of dumbing him? 

Percy couldn't be dumped twice in less than a week when he had been in zero relationships.

He could not let Annabweth dump him, ever.

“Yo, Jackson, you planning on moving that beam today or writing it a poem?”

Percy blinked.

Right.

Work.

He adjusted his grip on the busted chunk of roof and helped Malcolm lift it off the rubble pile.

Athena's cabin looked worse up close. Half the front steps gone, stone cracked, and plastered with dust everywhere. It felt wrong seeing it like this.

Malcolm worked beside him, sleeves rolled up, dreads up in a bun, smudges of dirt on his cheek like war paint.

He and Annabeth had the same focused frown when they concentrated.

They’d been hauling debris all morning. Wood, broken columns, chunks of stone. Percy mostly volunteered because if he stopped moving, he started thinking. And thinking was dangerous.

They dumped the beam onto the scrap pile.

Malcolm wiped his hands on his jeans, then glanced at Percy sideways.

“So.”

Percy instantly didn’t trust that tone.

“So… what?”

Malcolm shrugged, too casual. “You and my sister.”

Percy nearly dropped the next plank.

“What about— what— why— what do you mean?”

Malcolm raised an eyebrow. “Relax, dude. I’m not threatening you.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You went red in, like, two seconds.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

Percy opened his mouth, then closed it. Because arguing would make it worse.

Percy froze.

Apparently, he could fight monsters, survive wars, and hold up the sky.

But one random, mildly curious question from Annabeth’s brother?

System failure.

“Uh,” he said intelligently.

Malcolm waited.

Percy stared at the rubble like it might offer answers.

“…we’re,” he tried.

Nothing.

His brain supplied: Shoulder. Car. Almost. Grover. Kissing. What if she doesn’t—

Malcolm snorted. “Wow. Okay. That bad, huh?”

“It’s not bad,” Percy said quickly. “It’s just— it’s not— we’re fine.”

"Then what's going on?"

Percy didn’t actually know how to answer.

They’d kissed.

They’d almost died.

They trusted each other with their lives.

But what were they?

Friends-who-kissed?

Almost-something?

Something that kept getting interrupted by apocalypses?

“…I don’t know,” Percy admitted finally.

Malcolm blinked. “You don’t know?”

“We just—” Percy gestured vaguely. “Stuff keeps happening. Wars. Prophecies. Near-death experiences. It’s kind of hard to schedule a feelings talk.”

Malcolm stared at him.

“…You’re unbelievable.”

“Hey.”

“No, I mean it. You two are the most obvious pair in camp history, and somehow you’re still confused.”

“…Wait. What?”

Malcolm gave him a look like seriously?

“She talks about you constantly, Jackson. Half our cabin meetings turn into ‘Percy suggested this’ or ‘Percy would hate that’ or ‘Percy likes blueprints with—’ whatever. It’s annoying.”

Percy’s brain went completely blank.

“She does?”

Malcolm barked out a laugh. “Gods, you’re doomed. Emotionally,” he added. “Structurally, you’re great.”

Percy groaned and grabbed another piece of debris just so he had something to do with his hands.

Right now, he could ask Beckendorf to try and help him decipher what everything meant, but he wouldn't know anything, then Silena would come into the conversation, leaving Percy embarrassed, because it meant Clarisse would also find out. 

Percy couldn't do this, and suddenly he remembered why figuring out what they were was probably very low on Annabeth's list. 

Because somehow fighting a Titan army had been easier than this.

At least monsters didn’t ask what you were to each other.

They worked in silence for a bit.

Trying to pretend everything wasn’t still cracked down the middle.

Malcolm tossed a broken chunk of column aside and wiped his forehead with his sleeve.

“Look,” he said, quieter now. “I’m not trying to interrogate you or whatever.”

Percy glanced at him.

“It’s just… after everything?” Malcolm gestured around. “The war. The funerals. Half the cabins wrecked.”

His voice lost some of its sarcasm.

“People feel like crap, man.”

Percy nodded. His throat felt tight all of a sudden.

“Yeah,” he said.

“And every time you two are actually together?” Malcolm went on, “It’s like— I don’t know. Things feel a little less heavy.”

Percy frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re different around each other. Less… wrecked.” He shrugged. “Like the world didn’t totally break you even though it tried like hell.”

Percy didn’t know what to say to that.

Malcolm kicked a loose stone aside.

“You make sense,” he said. “You and her. Structurally sound. No weird stress fractures.” A small smirk. “Very Athena-approved design.”

Percy huffed. “Are you comparing us to a building?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.”

“I’m serious, though.” Malcolm’s smile faded. “It’d be good for her. And probably for you. And honestly?”

He looked toward the rest of camp, the smoke-stained cabins, the bandaged campers carrying lumber, the empty spaces where people should’ve been.

“Maybe for everyone.”

Percy blinked. “Everyone?”

“Yeah.” Malcolm shrugged. “After a year like this? Seeing something actually… work? Something not tragic or cursed or ending in a funeral?” He shook his head. “That’d be kinda healing.”

Healing was something Percy didn't think would happen in a long time. 

"Think about it? We all came together to throw you into the lake the other day." He smiled at him, not as amused as he had been before. 

Healing.

Not epic, or prophecy-level. But a good, simple thing.

Two people choosing each other. For once.

Malcolm nudged him with his elbow. “So stop overthinking it and go talk to her, Seaweed Brain.”

Percy frowned. “Did you just—”

“She says it constantly. It’s infectious.”

“…Great. I’m getting bullied by her entire family now.”

“Correct.”

Percy sighed, staring at the Athena cabin, trying to picture it whole again.

Trying to picture them all whole too.

***

By the end of the week, Percy decided on two things;

One: rebuilding a camp was somehow more exhausting than fighting a war.

Two: Chiron had discovered the concept of meetings and was abusing it.

Another one had been called just before dinner. Head counselors only. Because apparently, saving the world also came with paperwork now.

Percy showed up late.

Not on purpose, Malcolm had needed help moving a stack of stone blocks, then the naiads had started arguing about the canoe dock, then someone from the Apollo cabin had asked him to look at a leak. By the time he jogged up the hill toward the Big House porch, the sun was already low and orange through the trees.

Voices drifted out through the open doors. Inside, they were already gathered in a loose circle of chairs.

Clarisse leaned back, as if she owned the place, her boots up on another chair, her arms crossed, a scowl permanently installed. Katie sat forward with her elbows on her knees, twirling a leaf between her fingers like she was trying not to set something on fire out of boredom. Connor and Travis were shoulder to shoulder, of course, whispering something that made both of them snort at the exact same time.

Percy shook his head.

Some things survived the apocalypse, apparently.

The Stolls couldn’t even be separated for a leadership position. He was pretty sure that if one of them ever got kidnapped, the other would just show up automatically like a buy-one-get-one-free deal.

And then there was Annabeth.

She was sitting next to Clarisse, a notebook balanced on her thigh, a pencil tucked behind her ear, talking with her hands while she explained something.

Even tired, even with faint shadows under her eyes, she still looked… steady. Like the center of the room. Everyone angled toward her without realizing.

There was one empty chair right next to her, like it had been left there on purpose, and Percy’s heart did a stupid little flip.

He stepped inside.

The floor creaked.

Connor looked up first. “Oh, look, the celebrity finally arrived.”

“Shut up,” Percy muttered.

“Nice of you to join us, Jackson,” Clarisse said. “We were about to elect a new leader in your absence.”

“Cool. Pick someone responsible.”

“That’s why we didn’t,” Travis said.

Percy dragged the empty chair over and sat down in it.

Close enough that their shoulders brushed.

Annabeth glanced up and smiled at him, tired, soft, that smile that she had been giving him since his birthday.

“Hey,” she said quietly.

“Hey.”

For a second, the rest of the room blurred out, which was embarrassing, considering there were four other people there and the rest around.

Clarisse was saying something like, “—I’m just saying, if Chiron calls one more meeting to ‘check in,’ I’m checking out—”

“We already sent him the supply lists,” Katie added. “And the repair schedule. And the memorial roster. What else does he want?”

“Maybe he’s lonely,” Connor offered.

“Maybe he likes watching us suffer,” Travis said.

“Valid,” Clarisse muttered.

They all laughed, but it was that tired kind of laugh. The kind that ended too fast. Nobody had the energy to really commit to it.

Percy leaned a little closer to Annabeth, lowering his voice.

“When’d you get back?” he asked. “From Olympus.”

Her pencil stilled.

“An hour ago,” she said. “Maybe less.”

“You just came straight here?”

She shrugged. “Chiron said it was important.”

“You look exhausted.”

“So do you.”

“Yeah, but I’m always like this. You’re supposed to be impressive and intimidating.”

She nudged him with her knee under the chair. “Shut up.” But she was smiling.

Up close, he could see marble dust still clinging faintly to her sleeves. She was wearing a sleeveless shirt, and the scar on her shoulder was visible.

"How have you felt?" he said, nodding to it.

"Fine, no more fever, and Will thinks the poison has officially left my body." She did jazz hands, and Percy felt the urge to hug her, to keep her safe forever, to tell the gods they could rebuild their little play city and make her sleep 20 hours in a row. 

“You eat yet?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Didn’t have time.”

Percy frowned. “Wise Girl…”

“I’m fine.” She said it automatically. Then, softer, “I’m glad you’re here, though.”

It was quiet enough that only he heard it. And just like that, the weird off-balance feeling he’d had all week tilted back into place a little. 

He leaned a little closer, his arm resting over the back of her chair casually.

Across the circle, Travis snapped his fingers.

“Okay, but seriously,” he said, “if this meeting could’ve been an iris-message, I’m going to riot.”

Connor nodded. “Same. Democratically. But still.”

Clarisse groaned. “If he makes us do icebreakers, I’m leaving.”

“‘Hi, I’m Clarisse, and my fun fact is I killed three dracaenae,’” Katie deadpanned.

Percy huffed a laugh.

Annabeth’s shoulder brushed his.

Neither of them moved away.

For the first time all week, things felt almost normal.

Chiron arrived five minutes late. Which, considering that it was Chiron, meant that something was wrong.

His hooves thudded softly against the wooden floor as he crossed the attic. The sound echoed more than it used to.

Or maybe Percy just noticed echoes more now.

There were too many empty beds lately. Too many empty seats at dinner. It made every room feel bigger than it should.

Chiron rested his hands on the back of one of the chairs and looked at them, really looked at them, like he was checking who was still here. He did that at every meeting now.

“Thank you for coming,” Chiron said gently.

Clarisse grunted something that might’ve been “yeah.”

Nobody else spoke.

“I will keep this brief,” he continued. “I know you are all tired.”

Katie snorted softly. “That’s one word for it.”

A few weak smiles. Gone fast.

Chiron nodded. “Even so… I am worried about the camp’s morale.”

That got their attention a little. Not because they disagreed, but because it felt pointless to say out loud.

Of course morale was low.

They’d burned more shrouds this week alone than people had been claimed.

“The younger campers are quieter than usual,” Chiron said. “The year-rounders are overextending themselves. There is grief that has not had time to settle. Camp Half-Blood does not feel like… home, at the moment.”

Nobody argued.

Connor stared at the floor. Travis rubbed his eyes. Clarisse picked at a crack in the table like she wanted to punch something.

“I was hoping,” Chiron went on, “that you, as leaders, might suggest something to help. Something to lift spirits. Something to remind everyone that we are still… us.”

Silence.

Katie finally said, “We’re already rotating rebuild shifts.”

“We’re short on supplies,” Connor added. “Half the Hermes kids are basically doing deliveries all day.”

“I can run more combat training,” Clarisse muttered automatically.

“Please don’t,” Travis said. “If I have to hold a sword again this week, I’m faking my own death.”

Nobody laughed.

Annabeth hadn’t said anything.

Percy glanced at her.

Her notebook was open, with a sketch from some temple inside, half finished. She was staring at it, and Percy was reminded of when he wouldn't make eye contact with the professor so they wouldn't call on you.

The thing about the smarter people in the room was that they always got called on.

Chiron’s voice softened. “Annabeth?”

She blinked up at him.

After a long pause, she finally spoke, a bit hollow.

“…I don’t know,” she said finally. Almost frustrated with herself. “I’ve been on Olympus most days with things to do. I haven’t really been here enough to… see what people need.”

Hearing her say that felt wrong.

If Annabeth didn’t know what to do, then yeah, things were bad.

The silence came back thicker than before.

Nobody looked at each other. Nobody volunteered anything.

They just sat there, tired and blank, like their brains had been scraped clean.

Percy didn’t even mean to talk; the words just slipped out.

“…Camp games.”

Every head lifted, slowly. Like he’d just suggested, they summon another Titan for fun.

Clarisse squinted at him. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Camp games,” Percy repeated, already regretting existing.

Will blinked. “Dude. We just finished a war.”

“Yeah,” Connor said. “We’re not exactly pumped for the three-day-long games round two.”

“No, not like that,” Percy said quickly. “Not training. Not war stuff.” He waved his hands, trying to explain the mess in his head. “I mean, dumb stuff. Stupid stuff.”

They kept staring. He pushed through anyway.

“Like sack races. Three-legged races. Canoe relays. Tug-of-war. Just… normal camp junk. No weapons. No armor. No ‘simulate battle conditions.’”

Katie frowned. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah.”

Clarisse snorted. “You want field day.”

“When you say it like that, it sounds lame,” Percy muttered.

“It is lame.”

“Exactly,” he said.

That made her pause.

Percy shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. But then he turned to look at Anabeth to see what she thought. She was taking him in; that little proud smile she got every time he said something right, something brave, and he sat up straighter. 

She nodded.

"It's a good idea." She muttered just so he would listen, for him to keep going.

“Everything lately is heavy. Funerals, repairs, meetings, training. It’s all ‘be ready for the next disaster.’” He said, still looking at her. “Maybe we'll get a day where nothing bad is supposed to happen. Where the worst thing is that you fall on your face in a potato sack. Especially before the summer campers go home. Let them leave with something that isn’t just… this.”

He gestured vaguely at the tired room. The dust, and the silence, the tiredness that was so present lately in the air.

“For once, we’re not training to survive. We’re just being kids.”

There was a tick of silence after he finished. Nobody objected, but nobody really jumped to agree. They all looked at him in silence, even Chiron. 

For a second, Percy thought maybe he’d said something stupid.

Maybe it sounded childish.

Maybe—

He glanced sideways again.

Annabeth was already looking at him. Her eyes were warmer than they’d been all week, and the same smile she had before was still there.

She turned back to Chiron before he could overthink it.

“I think it’s a good idea,” she said. Her voice was steadier now. More like her. “We could organize it for the day before the summer campers leave. Give everyone something to look forward to. Low risk, low stress. Just… normal activities.”

Chiron studied her, then Percy.

Slowly, he nodded.

“Yes,” he said. “I believe Mr. Jackson may be exactly right. A day of games. Food. Music. Community. We will make it a celebration.”

Before Percy could process that, Annabeth’s hand found his under the table. She squeezed his hand, assuring him, like making sure he knew he did well. 

Heat rushed to his face faster than any compliment ever had, but as quickly as she did it, she let go and leaned forward, already slipping into strategist mode.

“We can divide responsibilities by cabin,” she said. “Each one handles an activity or a station. That way, no one gets overwhelmed.”

Connor straightened a little. “We could build those knock-down targets. Like the ones at carnivals. Throwing balls, prizes, that kind of thing.”

“Yeah,” Travis added, rubbing his eyes. “Low effort. Easy setup.”

Katie spoke up next, pushing her hair back. “Demeter's cabin can handle food. We’ve got enough produce to feed half of Long Island anyway. We’ll do snacks, drinks, maybe pies.”

“Music’s easy,” Will said. “We’ll set up speakers. Live stuff too. Keep it chill.”

“Tug-of-war,” Clarisse muttered. “Team stuff. Nothing sharp.”

Ideas started stacking on top of each other.

Sack races, three-legged races, canoe relays down the lake, face paint, stupid prizes, and all different ideas. Things that had absolutely nothing to do with fighting monsters.

And as more ideas came, the vibe of the whole room changed. For the first time at the meeting, people weren’t staring at the floor, but actually excitedly giving ideas, already planning how they would set everything up. 

Annabeth said that the most violent thing she wanted was dodgeball, and Connor winked at her, telling her she got it. 

Percy leaned back in his chair, a little stunned. He hadn’t meant to fix anything. He’d just wanted everyone to stop looking like ghosts.

Annabeth bumped her shoulder against his.

“You realize,” she murmured, barely above a whisper, “I just volunteered us to plan half of this, right?”

He sighed. “Yeah. Good thing you aren't busy or something.”

A tiny smile tugged at her mouth, but she didn’t look tired when she said it.

“Good thing.”

***

It turned out that Annabeth wasn't that busy anymore, or well, she was, but she was done with the trips to Olympus. 

"I already know what they want. Now I have to make it." She told him over dinner after the meeting.

That had been two days ago. Now, Percy opened the door of his cabin, waiting for her because she asked him for help with something, and because the Athena cabin still was a bit of a mess, he proposed his cabin. 

Percy was pretty sure he’d been standing outside Cabin Three for at least ten minutes. It was going to be the first time they would actually be alone, together, without anything to do more than what she needed from him. 

He leaned against the doorframe of the cabin, arms crossed, then uncrossed, then kicked at the step to do something.

The camp felt weirdly quiet for mid-afternoon. Even though he could hear hammers in the distance and smell sawdust, he could also hear someone yelling measurements near the Athena cabin rebuild.

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked up, and froze.

Annabeth was coming down the path, but she wasn’t alone. Rachel Elizabeth Dare walked next to her, bright red hair practically glowing in the sun.

They were talking.

Not just talking, animatedly talking. Hands moving, and laughing.

Annabeth was balancing a stack of blueprints under one arm, a half-open box full of cardboard and foam board under the other, plus what looked like three rulers sticking out at weird angles. Rachel had two paint containers and a tote bag slung over her shoulder like it weighed nothing.

They looked like they’d just raided an arts-and-crafts store.

Percy blinked.

Once.

Twice.

His brain did not compute.

Because, since when did Annabeth and Rachel just… hang out?

They were talking fast, stepping around each other like they’d already figured out each other’s rhythm.

Annabeth smiled at something Rachel said.

They reached the steps still talking away.

Rachel handed Percy the paint buckets without ceremony. “Here. Before she drops everything.”

“Hey—” Annabeth protested.

Percy automatically took the box too. It was lighter than it looked, but awkward, full of loose pieces sliding around.

“What is all this?” he asked.

“Supplies,” Annabeth said. “I kind of… raided the arts shed.”

Rachel adjusted the tote on her shoulder. “I gotta go now, Will wants help setting some things up.”

Annabeth nodded. “Yeah, you’re still good for face painting for the games, right?”

“Obviously,” Rachel said. “If we’re doing camp games, we’re doing it properly.” She flashed Percy a quick grin. “Later, Perce.”

And just like that, she jogged off down the path.

Percy watched her disappear between cabins, then looked back at Annabeth. She was already digging through the box, counting pieces under her breath.

“…Since when are you two working together?” he asked before he could stop himself.

She glanced up. “Rachel?”

“Yeah. I mean, face paint? Supplies? You guys looked very… coordinated.”

Annabeth shrugged. “She volunteered when I got to the arts shed; she was already there. And she’s good at this stuff. Plus, she actually likes dealing with little kids covered in paint. I do not.”

“That’s fair.”

“She cares about camp,” Annabeth added. “It’s nice having help.” She said it simply. No tension, ot weirdness. Which somehow made Percy feel a little dumb for even noticing.

It was as if everyone was finding their footing again, slipping back into some place, but not him, not them. 

“Come on,” she said, nudging the door open with her foot. “Before I drop this.”

They went inside.

Cabin Three was cool and dim, the water light flickering against the ceiling. Quiet, just the water slapping gently.

Annabeth dumped everything on the table with a clatter. There were foam sheets, cardboard, glue, rulers, pencils, and tiny wooden sticks. It looked like a kindergarten explosion.

Percy stared at the pile.

“…Okay, I’ll bite. Why do you own half of Michaels craft store?”

She sighed and looked at him, resting her hands on her hips.

“Guess who asked me for a detailed scale model of her temple?”

Percy snorted. “Your mom?”

Annabeth gave him a flat look.

“No.”

She held up a blueprint dramatically.

“Hera.”

They both groaned at the exact same time, then laughed a little at their mutual reaction.

“Oh come on,” Percy muttered. “We literally just saved Olympus, and she’s assigning homework?”

“She wants to ‘evaluate architectural dignity,’” Annabeth said, doing air quotes. “Which I’m pretty sure means she wants something she can criticize.”

“She hates us.”

“She really does.”

They shared a long, tired eye roll.

Then Annabeth started sorting pieces into neat stacks, slipping automatically into work mode.

“The annoying part?” she added. “Everyone else was actually cooperative. Athena, Apollo, even Ares just grunted and signed off.”

Percy blinked. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. They basically said ‘whatever you need.’”

“And Hera’s the only one being difficult.”

“Of course she is,” Annabeth said dryly.

Lighting could be heard somewhere in the distance, and Percy huffed a laugh and started lining up rulers without thinking.

The quiet stretched between them.

He watched her sketch quick measurements, tongue peeking out slightly, and the crease between her eyebrows, like always when she concentrated.

God, he’d barely seen her all week.

Meetings. Rebuilds. Olympus. Responsibilities.

And now she had Rachel helping. Malcolm helping. The gods assigning projects, like her world kept moving.

And he was just… trying not to get left behind.

His brain, helpfully, whispered: Maybe this is what you guys do. Get close. Kiss. Then never actually talk about it.

Grover’s voice, from months ago.

You two always dance around it.

Percy swallowed.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

She hummed, still drawing.

“Thanks. For… asking me to help.”

That got her attention.

She looked up, confused. “Sure, we haven't spent much time together, and you are good with this kind of stuff.”

“Oh.”

“Someone else would glue the columns upside down.”

He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

“Now,” she said, sliding a sheet of foam toward him and handing him a knife, “cut me twelve columns. Try not to destroy ancient Greek architecture.”

“No promises.”

“Seaweed Brain.”

He grinned and sat down next to her, cutting exactly what she told him to do, as she marked other things he would probably have to cut later. 

The cabin slowly turned into a disaster zone.

Foam scraps everywhere, glue strings stuck to Percy’s fingers, one ruler already missing like it had evaporated into another dimension.

Annabeth had taken over the table, sketching precise measurements and muttering things like “no, that column ratio is ugly,” and then changed everything again.

Percy sat cross-legged on the floor, cutting strips of cardboard.

Cut. Slide. Stack.

Cut. Slide. Stack.

The sound of their breaths, Annabeth's offhanded comments, and paper being cut. 

It should’ve been relaxing. It almost was.

Except his brain wouldn’t shut up.

Because every time he looked up, Annabeth was focused, calm, and efficient, but earlier she’d been walking down the path with Rachel like they’d been friends for years, laughing like it was easy. Like nothing was weird.

Like nothing was complicated.

Like they actually talked about stuff.

Which—

His scissors slipped.

He frowned at the crooked cut.

Why did that bother him?

Rachel was nice, Rachel was fine.

He liked Rachel. In a total platonic way.

This wasn’t jealousy of the sudden friendship.

It wasn’t.

It was just his brain doing that thing where it connected dots that probably didn’t exist.

What if Rachel said something?

What if they talked about… stuff?

What if Annabeth realized something and just didn’t tell him?

Cut. Stack. Glue. No. It was glue then stack. 

His stomach twisted.

Because there were definitely things Rachel could say.

Stuff Percy had done.

Stupid stuff.

Embarrassing stuff.

Things that sounded worse out loud.

Like—

His brain, traitor that it was, supplied:

The kiss.

Oh gods.

Why was he thinking about that now?

He stared at the half-built column in his hand, almost with disgust.

Before he could stop himself—

“Hey,” he blurted.

Annabeth hummed, not looking up. “Mm?”

“Rachel kissed me once.”

Silence.

It seemed like even the water had stopped, which was very probable with him there.

Annabeth slowly looked up.

“…What?”

Percy immediately wanted to launch himself into the ocean.

“I mean—not— I mean— not like—”

Fantastic. Incredible recovery.

He scrubbed a hand down his face.

“She kissed me. I didn’t kiss her. Just before. A while ago. I just thought you should know. In case she ever— I don’t know— mentioned it or something.”

Annabeth blinked at him, processing what he just said.

“You’re… telling me this now?” she asked carefully.

“Yeah.”

“While we’re building Hera’s temple.”

“…Yeah.”

She stared another second, then, somehow, she didn’t look mad, just confused.

“Percy,” she said slowly, “why would Rachel randomly bring that up?”

“I don’t know!” he said too fast. “Girls talk! Maybe she was like, ‘oh yeah, by the way, I kissed your— Percy once,’ and then you’d be like—”

"Your Percy?" She asked, confused, and Percy blushed even further cause he was going to say your boyfriend, because he had been thinking about that for a while, and it was the only thing that quieted his mind at night when all he could hear was the screams and noise from the war. “Seaweed Brain,” she said quietly, trying to calm his panicked expression. “Rachel didn’t say anything.”

He nodded too fast. “I just— you two seemed… close. And we haven’t really talked about— you know. Us. And I thought maybe she said something that made you change your mind about me or something.”

“Percy.”

He stopped.

She tilted her head at him.

“Are you spiraling right now?”

“…Maybe.”

He looked back down at the cardboard.

There was a soft shuffle.

Annabeth slid off her chair and sat down across from him on the floor, crossing her legs. Close enough, their shoes almost touched.

She looked everywhere around, shifting and playing with her thumbs. She let out a sigh, and Percy could tell she was nervous. He could only wait for her to stop looking around and look at him.

"Okay, so what you're saying is you think Rachel said something to me and now you're worried I talked to Rachel and suddenly decided you’re terrible.” She finally laid her eyes on him. 

The thing about Annabeth's eyes was that they always left him mesmerized. It was embarrassing the number of times he had gotten too distracted by them while he should have been listening to her.

But he nodded all the same. A little anxious too.

"Okay, so, I think we gotta talk about some things." She blew out air from her mouth.

"Yes." His voice cracked a little.

Annabeth picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. For once, she didn’t look sure of herself.

“I—” She stopped. Tried again. “Okay. This is probably going to come out wrong, so just… let me talk first?”

Percy nodded immediately. 

She glanced up at him, then back down.

“I like you,” she said.

Just like that. She said it like it was so simple, and Percy’s brain went completely blank.

“I think that’s… kind of obvious,” she added quickly. “It’s been obvious for a while. Like. Painfully obvious.”

His ears were ringing.

“Oh,” he managed.

She huffed a tiny nervous laugh, and the tip of her fingers, where she was pulling at her pants, were white.

“I’m just bad at saying things. Especially feelings things. Especially after everything.”

Her hands twisted together.

“And the Rachel thing— the kiss— it surprised me, but not really.”

Percy frowned. “Not really?”

“When we were apart,” she said quietly, “I figured… that’s what was happening. You moving on. Her being easier. Less complicated.”

“That’s not—”

“I know,” she said fast. “I know now. But back then, it made sense in my head. Like— of course Percy would like the girl who doesn’t argue with him every five seconds and get every mortal thing he likes.”

“That’s not—” he tried again, more urgently. “Annabeth, no. She kissed me. I didn’t— I didn’t kiss her.”

She looked up.

“I swear,” he said. “I just kind of stood there like an idiot. And then—”

His throat tightened at the thought of what he was going to say. 

“—and then Beckendorf came to get me.” Even saying the name felt like stepping on glass. He swallowed hard. “It was right before that. So it’s not like I was out there having some romantic moment or anything. It was just… bad timing. And confusing. And everything exploded.”

Annabeth watched him carefully, then nodded slowly.

“Okay,” she said. 

Percy picked at the dried glue on his fingers.

“Can I say something without you getting mad?” he asked.

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s never a good start.”

“Yeah, well. Too late.” He swallowed. “The Connor thing.”

She stilled, and her eyes got a little bigger, surprised.

“Grover told me,” he said. “By accident. After he interrupted us that night. He just— blurted it out.”

Annabeth closed her eyes. “Of course he did.”

“I didn’t say anything at the time,” Percy went on. “But… it bothered me.” He kinda felt silly saying that out loud, but they were talking about all of this stuff, and he was going to say it.

She looked at him carefully.

“I figured it would,” she said softly.

“I was stupid about it,” he added quickly. “Like, we weren’t even— anything. So I didn’t have the right to be mad. But I was. I hated seeing you laugh with him like it was nothing.” His voice dropped. “And every time you talked to me, we were arguing.”

Annabeth winced.

“I thought maybe you just… liked him more. Or that he was easier. And I was just the annoying guy you had to drag out of trouble all the time.”

“Percy,” she said quietly.

“And it’s dumb,” he rushed on. “Because I know it wasn’t like that. I know that now. But back then? You were so relaxed around him, so smily, and then I got closer, and your eyes were stuck to your head of how much you rolled them, annoyed at me.”

The cabin went very still. Annabeth shifted closer without even seeming to realize it. Their knees touched, and her fingers reached to touch his knee.

“Connor was a bit of an escapatory,” she said. “That’s why it looked easy. He didn't care that I was very much hung up on you, and that the war was coming, or any of that.”

He blinked.

“With you,” she added, “everything felt like it could say one thing and something would explode between us. Of course, I wasn’t relaxed. I was terrified all the time.”

“Terrified of what?”

“Losing you,” she said immediately.

Oh.

She let out a shaky breath.

“I was twelve and already acting like an idiot because I didn’t know what to do with how much I cared about you. So yeah. I made bad decisions. Including that.”

Percy huffed a soft laugh. “We’re kind of a mess, huh?”

“Historically,” she said.

A small smile.

Then quieter:

“I didn’t realize it hurt you that much.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Well. It still kinda does. A little.”

Her fingers curled into the fabric of his jeans.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He nodded.

"It's fine." He muttered, reaching for her fingers and resting them over hers.

“Rachel still bugs me, too,” she added. “Not because of you. Just because I thought… maybe she was what you wanted instead.”

He shook his head immediately. “No. Never.”

Their eyes met. During the conversation, they had leaned closer, but still, the way they were sitting wasn't only uncomfortable to get closer, but also made Percy feel like there was too much space between them.

“So,” Percy asked carefully, “you’re not… mad? Or trying to back away? Or deciding we should just be friends?”

Her answer came fast.

“No.”

Relief hit so hard he almost laughed.

“Okay,” he breathed. “Good. Because that would suck.”

She smiled.

“Yeah,” she said. “It would.”

They stayed there on the floor, knees and fingers touching, surrounded by half-built columns and glue strings and years of things they probably should’ve said sooner, but couldn't.

The cabin was quiet except for the water and their breathing.

Percy traced a line in the dust on the floor with his finger, pretending he wasn’t hyper aware of how close she was.

She didn’t move away. If anything, she leaned a little closer.

His brain, for once, didn’t spiral.

This is real, he thought. No more almost. No more ignoring it.

No more someday.

Real, now, them.

He looked up.

Annabeth was already watching him. Eyes as beautiful as always, expectant and the deepest brown that Percy could drown in. It was almost like she was waiting. 

Which was terrifying and also kind of amazing.

Before he could overthink it, he said quietly, “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

He didn’t answer; he just leaned in.

Slow enough that she could’ve pulled away if she wanted to, but she didn’t.

When their lips met, it wasn’t rushed or clumsy. It was soft, and her hand that was previously under his moved to his cheek. It was barely a touch of lips compared to the last one they shared, but it felt like they weren't running on borrowed time; they didn't have to take everything before it slipped away. 

It was the calm and settledness of two dumb teenager that finally got their shit together. 

Gods, Percy was so glad. 

They were still sitting like two idiots three feet apart, necks and upper bodies stretched awkwardly.

He huffed a quiet laugh against her mouth.

She smiled into the kiss. “What?”

“This is a terrible angle,” he muttered.

“Yeah,” she whispered back, also laughing a little.

He slid a hand to her waist and gently pulled her closer. She shifted automatically, knees sliding against his legs until she was practically in his lap, one hand braced on his shoulder to steady herself.

Better.

Way better.

He kissed her again, deeper this time, less hesitant, a little more daring. He was done asking the universe for permission and opportunities.

When they broke apart, their foreheads rested together. Her fingers curled in his shirt on his shoulder.

She was smiling, but there was something nervous behind it.

“Can I ask you something?” she murmured.

“Yeah.”

Her eyes searched his.

“Do you… like me?”

Percy blinked.

“What?”

“You never actually said it,” she said softly. “Not out loud.”

He stared at her like that might be the dumbest question he’d ever heard, which was impossible considering that Annabeth was the smartest Percy in the world. Then he groaned.

“You’re kidding.”

“Percy.” She poked his chest. “Words.”

He rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. Then his expression softened.

“Yeah,” he said. “I like you.”

She waited.

He sighed dramatically.

“I really like you. Like. A lot. Stupid amount. Happy?”

Her smile spread slow and bright, and a little relieved.

“Yeah,” she said quietly.

Then she kissed him again.

And this time, neither of them overthought it at all.

***

That night, Percy dreamed. 

He was on top of a tree, the branches against the blue sky, and his fingers touching the bark. He knew how it went. 

But then he heard someone call his name. He looked down, and Annabeth was standing at the roots, smiling up at him. She said something he didn't understand and started climbing. 

It looked like she was miles down, but she got up fast, right next to him. She was wearing her Yankees cap, but he could see her; her braids were loose, and her eyelids had sparkly blue eyeshadow, and Percy knew where his head had gotten this Annabeth from. 

Annabeth smiled at him, then kept climbing. He followed her.

For the first time, Percy could tell his mother was right; he probably never fell from the tree, and it was always just a dream. 

They got to the top, and when he looked around, Percy could see the whole camp as it was before, when he got there. The original cabins, Thalia's tree, and the strawberry field. 

Annabeth smiled at him, bright and big, her eyes shone, and Percy wanted to kiss her, but he woke up.

***

The days of the games, Percy knocked on Annabeth's cabin, already fixed but not really finished, early in the morning. 

“Morning.”

She looked up, surprised when she opened the door. “Perce? It’s—” she checked her watch “—six.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m concerned too.”

She smiled, and for the first time, even at the absurd time, she didn't look tired. Her eyes were wide open, the bags under her eyes had disappeared like his, and she wore a blue silk scarf on her head, pulling her loose braids out of her face.

There were blueprints spread across her desk. A clipboard. A pencil tucked behind her ear. Three different maps of the camp with little notes scribbled everywhere.

“For something that’s supposed to be ‘relaxing,’” Percy said, “this looks suspiciously like military strategy.”

“It’s called organization,” she said. “You should try it sometime.”

"But I have you." He gave her a cheeky smile, and Annabeth tried to hide hers. She handed him a stack of papers.

“Food tables go near the pavilion. Games field stays clear. Apollo gets the stage. Demeter needs shade, or they’ll riot. And we need someone to make sure the Stoll brothers don’t ‘improve’ anything.”

“Ah,” Percy nodded. “So my job is Travis and Connor containment.”

“Exactly.”

They fell into step together as they left the cabin. 

The sun was just starting to come up, painting everything gold, and for a while, they didn’t talk, just walked shoulder to shoulder through the quiet camp, checking spots, moving benches, dragging tables across the grass.

It felt weirdly calm, the early morning with few people awake, helping.

At one point, their hands brushed when they both reached for the same crate. Neither of them pulled away.

Annabeth just bumped his shoulder lightly.

“Thanks for getting up early,” she said.

He shrugged. “Well, I'm your second in command, I had to.”

“Excited?”

“Terrified this is going to flop, and everyone’s just gonna stare at us like we made them attend a mandatory fun day.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Same.”

Across the field, a couple of Apollo kids were setting up speakers. Someone from the Demeter cabin carried trays of fruit. In the distance, Percy could already hear the Stolls arguing over a megaphone that they couldn't find.

Camp was waking up.

By nine, everything was set.

Tables lined the edge of the field, streamers, slightly crooked, hung between cabins, and the Apollo stage crackled with feedback every few seconds. Demeter's cabin had already claimed three entire tables for food like they were preparing for the apocalypse.

And the field itself was—

Empty.

Percy stood next to Annabeth in the middle of it, hands on his hips, trying not to feel like they’d just set up the world’s saddest birthday party.

“This is it,” he said. “We built an entire festival, and no one came.”

“Give them five minutes,” she said, checking her clipboard for the hundredth time. "They must be finishing breakfast by now."

“You’ve reorganized that paper like six times.”

“It calms me.”

She elbowed him lightly.

From Pavilon, a few campers started to come out. A couple of younger campers wandered out first, squinting at the sunlight.

Then more.

Someone pointed at the tables. Someone else ran toward the food.

Percy felt his shoulders loosen a little.

Okay, good.

They weren’t going to be alone out here like two weird camp counselors forcing fun.

Clarisse showed up next, arms crossed, looking like she’d rather fight a hydra than attend a “festival,” but she still came. Which honestly meant a lot. Behind her, Connor and Travis were already arguing over something again.

Katie jogged over from the pavilion, flour on her shirt.

“Food’s ready,” she announced. “If anyone complains, I’m poisoning them.”

“Good morning to you, too,” Percy said.

Connor raised a megaphone triumphantly. “I found this.”

Annabeth froze. “Where did you find that?”

“…Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

The feedback screech nearly killed three birds.

“OH YEAH,” Connor’s voice boomed way too loud across the entire camp. “TESTING—”

Annabeth snatched it.

“No screaming,” she said. “And no pranks. And no fake announcements about monster attacks.”

Travis looked offended. “You ruin everything fun.”

She handed the megaphone to Percy.

He stared at it as if it might explode.

“…Why me?”

“Because,” she said calmly, “if Connor does it, we’ll somehow end up hosting a gladiator arena. And it was your idea, you led.”

Percy nodded, regretting having given the idea.

She shoved the clipboard into his chest, too.

“You’re announcing the schedule.”

Percy blinked at the pages.

There were bullet points, time slots, and color coding.

“Wise Girl,” he said, “this looks like a military briefing.”

“It’s a flexible itinerary.”

“This has subcategories.”

“Percy.”

“Fine, fine.”

Connor grinned. “Public speaking, bro. Don’t faint.”

“I will drown you,” Percy muttered.

He lifted the megaphone and immediately regretted it.

There were way too many people now. Campers sitting on tables, walking around. Watching for something to happen.

Oh gods.

He cleared his throat.

“Uh— hey. Hi. So. Welcome to—”

Feedback screamed again.

He winced.

“Welcome to the Camp Games thing. Festival. Day. Whatever we’re calling it.”

A few laughs were heard, and Percy relaxed a little.

“So, uh, we’ve got stuff happening all day. Like games and races, challenges. Nothing too big, but small stuff, fun stuff.”

More heads lifted now.

Annabeth stood beside him, arms crossed, pretending she wasn’t nervous. He could tell she was, though. Her fingers kept tapping the clipboard.

He glanced down.

“Okay, schedule. Morning games on the main field — sack race, three-legged race, obstacle course, that kind of chaos. Food’s open basically all day because Demeter cabin doesn’t believe in portion control.”

Katie cheered next to them like she wasn't the one in charge of that.

“Lunch break around noon. Music over by Apollo. Face painting with Rachel. Try not to scare her.”

Someone wolf-whistled, probably Rachel herself.

“And—” Percy squinted at the last note, “every once in a while, there’ll be random challenges. Like surprise ones. So if someone starts yelling ‘new quest,’ don’t panic, it’s probably just Connor being annoying.”

Connor grabbed the megaphone for half a second. “FIRST CHALLENGE MIGHT INVOLVE STEALING CHIRON—”

Annabeth elbowed him so hard he folded.

Percy continued, “Anyway. They’ll be stupid. Low stakes. Bragging rights only. So… participate or don’t, but—”

He hesitated. The next words came out softer.

“Just… have fun, okay?”

The field went quiet for half a second. Then someone clapped, then a few more.

Then Clarisse yelled, “ARE WE RACING OR WHAT?”

And just like that, everyone started to move.

Campers running to the sacks, the music started blasting from the speakers, someone already stealing food, and Connor shouting something illegal into the megaphone.

The quiet, heavy feeling that had been sitting over camp for weeks finally cracked.

Annabeth bumped Percy’s shoulder.

“You didn’t even mess it up,” she said.

“Low bar.”

She smiled anyway.

“Yeah,” she said. “But still.”

The first game was supposed to be simple.

Keyword: supposed.

Percy and Annabeth had planned one neat little sack race. One line. One whistle. Done. Instead, half the camp showed up.

“Okay— no— not everyone at once—” Percy said, trying to herd forty demigods into something resembling order. “We’re doing heats! Heats! Like— groups of ten!”

“Line up by height!” Annabeth called.

“That’s not efficient—”

“It’s visually faster!”

Connor was already inside a sack, hopping in circles for no reason.

Travis was commentating through the megaphone like it was the Olympics. “AND IN LANE THREE WE HAVE A KID WHO LOOKS DEEPLY CONFUSED—”

“That’s just his face!” someone yelled.

Percy blew the whistle.

The first group lasted approximately four seconds before three people tripped, two collided, and one Apollo kid just lay down and accepted defeat.

It got worse from there.

Dust everywhere. Screaming. Someone lost a sandal.

Annabeth kept adjusting brackets like this was some kind of tactical operation. Percy mostly ran around, grabbing fallen campers and untangling limbs.

By the third heat, people were actually cheering.

By the fifth, Demeter's cabin had started taking bets.

And then Connor cupped his hands around his mouth because Annabeth had confiscated the megaphone rights.

“COUNSELOR ROUND!”

Percy froze.

Oh no.

“Nope,” he said immediately. “We’re supervising. Responsible—”

Clarisse grabbed a sack and tossed it at his face.

“Get in, Jackson.”

“I’m literally running this event!”

Katie shoved Annabeth forward. “You too, strategist.”

Will was already laughing as he stepped into one. Travis and Connor jumped into theirs dramatically.

“Oh yeah,” Travis said. “Easy win.”

“We were born for this,” Connor added.

They both fell over immediately, before it even started. Just tipped sideways like fainting goats.

The entire field lost it. Even Percy barked out a laugh before he could stop himself.

“Idiots,” Clarisse muttered, but she was grinning.

They lined up.

Annabeth tied her hair up, focused like this was an Olympic final.

“You’re taking this seriously?” Percy asked.

“I don’t lose,” she said simply.

The whistle blew.

Percy hopped twice and immediately slammed shoulders with Clarisse.

“Move, Jackson!”

“You’re literally sabotaging me!”

She hip-checked him.

He tried to regain balance.

They both tangled, and then they were down. Dust in his mouth, his sack twisted around his legs, and Clarisse swearing next to him.

Somewhere to the left, Travis and Connor were still on the ground, laughing too hard to function.

Ahead, Annabeth was, of course, in perfect rhythm. Katie and Will were right behind her.

Percy tried to stand and just fell again.

“Traitor legs,” he muttered.

Then he heard laughter, but a particular one. Sharp and surprised.

He looked up.

Nico di Angelo was doubled over, actually laughing, one hand over his face, pointing at Percy on the floor, rolling uselessly on the grass. It was like he forgot how to be gloomy for five whole seconds.

Percy stared for a little while, then smiled, because if Nico was laughing at him, it was fine; the good thing was that, like everyone else, he was having a good time.

Annabeth crossed the finish line first, obviously. Katie and Will crashed through right after.

Clarisse finally got up just to tackle Percy out of spite.

“Rematch,” she growled.

“You cheated!”

“I call it strategy!”

Around them, campers were cheering, arguing, demanding another round.

Percy lay back on the grass, breathing hard, smiling like an idiot until Annabeth appeared over him, blinding smile even more than the sun in his eyes, and declaring she won. 

She offered her hand, and he took it. 

"Would it be unfair if I took one of the cupcakes that we were giving as prizes?"

"Well, no. Because you won, it would be unfair if Connor did it, like he is doing right now." 

Annabeth turned and scolded him over the megaphone. The cupcake was inches away from his mouth, and Percy hadn't even noticed she had the megaphone with her, but he laughed anyway.

He left it on the table and walked over to them. 

“Okay, bossy counselor, give me that. I have to announce the first challenge.”

Annabeth held the megaphone out of reach, which was behind Percy's back, because that was the most out of reach she could do, and that put two obstacles between it.'

“You forfeit megaphone privileges when you commit cupcake crimes.”

“That’s not a rule!”

“It is now.”

He jumped for it. She sidestepped easily. He tried again. She pivoted away like she was dodging arrows. Percy stayed still, watching the two of them circle him. And he wasn't annoyed, but they could cut it short. 

“Just give it to him,” Percy called. “Before he hurts himself.”

“I’m being oppressed!” Connor yelled.

“By gravity, mostly,” Travis said.

Percy gently pried the megaphone from Annabeth’s hands. She let go with a dramatic sigh and shoved it into Connor’s chest.

“Fine. But if one cupcake goes missing, I’m auditing your entire cabin.”

Connor paled. “You’re terrifying.”

He lifted the megaphone.

“ALRIGHT, CAMPERS—”

Feedback screeched. Everyone winced.

“—FIRST OFFICIAL CHALLENGE OF THE MORNING—”

That got everyone’s attention way faster than the schedule had. Campers perked up like someone had yelled free food, and Connor climbed on top of a picnic table like a chaotic prophet.

“YOU HAVE TWO MINUTES,” he announced, “TO BRING—”

He paused dramatically.

“The WEIRDEST thing you can find.”

Silence.

Then absolute mayhem.

Campers scattered in every direction.

“What does that even mean?” Percy yelled over everyone trying to reach them.

“That’s the point!” Travis shouted.

Within seconds, people were coming back with different things. A broken spear tip, a strawberry plant in a helmet, a rubber chicken, something from Hephaestus's cabin that was definitely humming

Katie brought a ladle “with emotional history.”

Will brought an entire skeleton model from the infirmary.

Someone tried to drag a canoe.

“That’s not weird, that’s theft!” Percy yelled.

And then—

“Hey!”

Percy turned.

Grover was jogging up the hill, slightly out of breath, tin can clinking on his belt, holding… something that looked like a giant wooden spoon duct-taped to a lacrosse stick with ribbons tied to it.

Percy blinked. 

“What is that?” Annabeth asked once he reached them.

“It’s a nature-friendly baton-slingshot-horn thing,” Grover said. “For morale.”

They all looked at him as the other campers were still running before the minutes were over.

When the timer went off like a fucking alarm that left Percy disoriented for being literally next to Connor, he screamed again.

"WE GOT A WINNER."

"What?" Grover said as Connor took his weird object, and Travis and Katie pushed him up the table next to Connor. 

Annabeth and Percy just stared at them, pushing their friend and doing absolutely nothing about it.

Thirty seconds later, the megaphone was shoved into his hands.

“What— no— I just got here—”

“You’re commentary,” Travis said.

“I don’t commentate!”

“You do now,” Annabeth said sweetly.

Grover, flustered and rambling, started narrating everything.

“Okay, I think we gotta do honorary mentions. The Hermes cabin appears to be— stealing a chair? Is that allowed? Percy, is that allowed— oh gods, why is that glowing—”

Percy watched him, smiling.

Grover hadn’t really hung around much lately. Always helping rebuild, running errands for Chiron, disappearing into the woods.

Seeing him here, getting bullied into being the announcer like old times, made it an even better day.

Connor reclaimed the megaphone.

“ALRIGHT, NEXT EVENT— THREE-LEGGED RACE!”

The field erupted.

"COUNSELORS FIRST OR YOU’RE COWARDS!”

Percy barely had time to blink before teams started forming.

Travis slung an arm around Katie and smirked at her, walking her to the start line. Across the grass, Will casually looped the rope around his ankle and Nico's. Both kids were blushing but determined to participate. 

Which left Connor looking between the remaining options and landing on Clarisse.

Clarisse cracked her knuckles.

Connor looked at Percy. “Trade?”

“Hell no,” Percy said quickly. 

He grabbed Annabeth’s hand and pulled her toward the starting line.

Clarisse grabbed Connor by the back of his shirt like he weighed nothing. “You’re with me, shrimp.”

“I don’t consent to this partnership—”

But it was too late. She was already dragging him across the grass.

They crouched while someone tied their inside legs together.

And then Percy remembered the thing about Annabeth being significantly shorter. Their knees didn’t line up. Their strides didn’t match. Every test step felt like trying to run with a determined backpack.

She noticed too.

“This is inefficient,” she muttered.

“You think?”

She tightened the knot herself. “We’re still winning.” She gave him this look that Percy had always thought made her look hot, and every time he would feel bad afterwards for thinking that. 

Now he thought it without shame and grinned at her, resting his arm over her shoulders and bringing her closer.

“That’s the spirit.”

The whistle blew, and they lurched forward.

Katie and Travis took off in perfect sync. Will and Nico weren’t far behind, surprisingly coordinated.

Percy and Annabeth, though, well, they were getting by. Stumbling and hoping. Nearly face-plant.

“Left— no, your other left!”

“I KNOW WHICH LEFT IS LEFT!”

They wobbled past halfway.

Connor’s scream echoed behind them.

“CLARISSE SLOW DOWN—”

“I AM GOING FULL SPEED.”

Percy risked a glance back. Clarisse was basically dragging Connor like a sack of potatoes.

“Okay,” Annabeth panted, “we’re about to be third.”

“Not happening.”

“What do you—”

Percy slid an arm around her waist.

“Percy—?!”

“Trust me.”

He lifted just enough that her feet barely skimmed the grass and then sprinted. Not fully carrying her, just enough to take most of her weight.

She clutched his shoulder, half laughing, half scandalized. “This is cheating!”

“It’s called creative engineering!”

“That’s not what engineering is!”

They shot forward, legs awkward but faster, nearly colliding with Will and Nico as they crossed.

They got second place.

They stumbled to a stop in a heap.

Annabeth shoved his chest, breathless and grinning, still leaning into him. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But we got second, which means we get a cupcake.” He smiled brightly at her and brushed some dirt she had on her cheek. He thought of kissing her, but the sound of Connor shrieking while being physically towed across the line distracted him.

“I CAN’T FEEL MY LEGS—”

Clarisse dropped the rope. “Weak.”

"Well, we have the losers," Grover said over the megaphone, and a cupcake landed perfectly across his cheek courtesy of Clarisse.

***

By the time they finally called lunch, Percy felt like he’d already lived three separate days.

They ate sitting on the grass with everyone else, paper plates balanced on their knees, the noise of camp loud and easy around them. People were trading food, arguing about scores, Grover commenting on some details they missed, and making the younger kids laugh.

Annabeth stole half his fries without asking. He stole her cupcake. She laughed into his shoulder, leaning on his side. Percy turned to her every time she did, and he was so relaxed he could float away. 

After that, the rest of the games sort of blurred together.

The sun got higher, and the grass got warmer. Everyone stopped caring about who won and started caring about who they could tackle.

Connor yelled, "Dodgeball time," and suddenly they were being shoved onto Clarisse’s team. Which, honestly, should’ve counted as a war crime.

Clarisse launched foam balls like artillery and took down like 3 people with one ball. Percy barely had time to react before one nailed him in the shoulder hard enough to spin him around.

Across the field, Annabeth ducked two throws in a row, graceful as ever, focused and probably calculating trajectories like it was a battle simulation, until a ball smacked her right in the face. 

She staggered back, blinking. Percy laughed before he could even help it, but he covered his mouth as fast as it came out.

It was the most undignified, surprised expression he’d ever seen on her, and Percy loved it.

She pointed at him like, "Don’t you dare," and a ball already pointing at him, and before he could apologize and tell her, "Please, no", the ball hit him square in the mouth.

"That's not how the game works." He screamed at her as she laughed. 

He tasted rubber for five minutes, but he tackled Annabeth as payback, and their team won anyway, mostly because nobody managed to eliminate Clarisse. Everybody tried, balls bounced off her shoulders like she was made of stone, and at one point, she caught three at once and used them as ammo.

And even though Percy was technically on her team, she still whipped one at his back “for fun.”

He didn’t question it because it felt safer that way. 

After that, things got hazy again, water breaks, random mini-games, and Grover yelling statistics no one asked for. 

At some point, someone pushed him into a water balloon fight that he won. Annabeth disappeared, trying not to get wet. He found her thirty minutes later, walking back from the arts tables. Rachel had clearly gotten hold of her.

The side of Annabeth’s face was painted, soft streaks of blue and white and violet sweeping over her cheekbone and around her eye like war paint, or frost, or something mythic and unfairly pretty. Her eyes looked bigger, and the brown in her eyes looked richer. 

The blue matched the scarf around her head, and her braids were blonder than normal, and the gray streak they shared was loose on the front, which he loved, how it was half silver, half copper, that made him do stupid things like walk up to her, grab her face, and kiss her. 

This earned them a rain of balloon waters. Percy made sure all the water stayed away from Annabeth's hair, and he flipped them off as Annabeth laughed against his mouth. 

At one point in the afternoon, Travis screamed for another challenge. 

"BRING ME THE SMALEST THING YOU CAN FIND."

Campers scattered instantly. Percy looked down at Annabeth. She looked up at him, and he could see when she realized what he was thinking.

“…Don’t,” she warned.

But it was too late. He hooked an arm around her waist and hoisted her over his shoulder like she weighed absolutely nothing. He jogged across the field while she smacked his back.

“Percy Jackson—!”

He dumped her gently at Travis’s feet at the table. Travis blinked down at them.

“…You know what,” he said slowly, raising the megaphone, “I respect it. Winner for creativity.”

The whole camp cracked up, and Annabeth went bright red.

When they handed Percy his cupcake prize, he barely got one bite before Annabeth took it and smashed it into Percy’s face.

"Put me down next time." 

Percy couldn't really blame her, but the smile she was trying to bite down told him she wasn't really that mad. And somewhere between the frosting in his hair, Annabeth trying not to laugh, and the sound of the entire camp yelling over each other, he didn't think of anything else but that moment right there. 

He threw an arm around Annabeth's waist, brought her close to him, and smiled. 

"What are you smiling at, weirdo?" She said, sniffling a laugh and taking some frosting from his cheek with her finger and eating it. 

"Just so you know, I like you a lot." He smiled when she rolled her eyes, the colors across her cheekbone made her look like a painting, and he thought in the very back of his mind, in a part he wasn't going to review until much further, that he didnt only like her, but for now, with the smile that earned him when he said it, it was enough. 

Later, Connor shoved the megaphone into Percy's hand and told him it was his turn to make a challenge. And Percy, with his great imagination, asked for something blue. Annabeth, who was right next to him, took her scarf from her head and handed it to him with an unimpressed face. 

He was left stunned, and the rest of the campers running with something blue groaned when they noticed what happened.

"That doesn't count," Percy said, throwing the scarf back to Annabeth, who scoffed and put it back on. 

Once Percy handed a little girl from the Demeter cabin her cupcake, he turned around, and Annabeth was looking at him with the same expression, arms crossed, and her right hip out. And even though she was clearly annoyed and pouting a bit, Percy couldn't stop the giddy smile from her raised eyebrow as he reached her. 

"You are the winner in my heart." He said, and offered her a cupcake, he was hiding behind his back. 

She rolled her eyes.

"I won either way. It's not my fault you have zero creativity." 

He barked out a laugh, and she took the cake. This one didn't end up in his face, but she shared half of it with him.

Slowly, the sun started to dip lower, the stands started to close, the music faded, and people started stacking chairs. And then, like it always happened at camp, everything moved toward the fire pit.

Everyone crowded around the bonfire with blankets and stolen snacks and way too much sugar still in their systems. The Demter cabin started to hand out their famous punch to the older campers. A kid from Apollo cabin brought guitars. Then someone else started drumming on an empty cooler.

They sang badly, loudly, and completely off-key. Percy didn’t think he’d ever heard so many demigods butcher perfectly good songs with so much confidence.

Grover tried to harmonize and somehow made it worse. Travis kept changing lyrics to be about food. Clarisse shouted the chorus of everything, whether she knew it or not.

Somewhere between Sweet Home Alabama and Home, the songs turned into stories. Then ghost stories. Then increasingly stupid “horror” stories that were mostly just people trying to scare the younger campers.

Connor told one so dramatic that he scared himself halfway through. Katie threw popcorn at him. Even Nico, sitting a little off to the side, snorted at one of the punchlines.

Percy sat on one of the logs with Annabeth tucked against his side. At some point during the night, she’d leaned into him without either of them really noticing. Her head rested against his shoulder, curls brushing his neck, warm through his camp shirt. He thought she had fallen asleep, but when he finished his story about a sinking ship and a big shark that he swore was the megalodon, Annabeth snorted, and Percy couldn't help but smile, a little because of her, a little because the whole story was totally made up. 

After they all screamed at him because they didn't believe him, Percy sat in silence, with his arms around Annabeth and his cheek over her head. 

The firelight painted everything gold, and it made her eyes look almost golden when she glanced up at the flames. Her fingers were loosely hooked in the fabric of his sleeve, and Percy thought about the day, the games, and the food, the laughter and the groans. 

It had been a good day, better than Percy expected. 

After a while, her voice came out soft.

“I think I’m gonna take a walk.”

Percy blinked, pulled back from his thoughts. “Now?”

“Yeah. Just… air.”

She started to sit up, but he was already standing.

“I’ll go with you.”

She looked up at him, surprised. “You don’t have to—”

But he just held out his hand. She sighed, pretending to be annoyed, then slipped her hand into his anyway.

“Fine,” she muttered.

He smiled.

They left the circle of firelight behind with catwhistles and people screaming things that made Percy blush and give them the finger behind his back while Annabeth led him into the woods.

Songs turned into background hum, then into nothing, just the crickets, the wind in the trees, and their footsteps on the dirt path.

Her hand still in his, and he swung their arms a little, just to bug her and to dissipate the tension the catcalling had left on them.

“Stop that.”

“No.”

“Percy.”

“Annabeth.”

But she didn’t let go.

They kept walking until the trees thinned out and the sand started under their shoes. The lake stretched out dark and quiet, moonlight skimming across the surface like glass. Waves lapped softly at the shore, and the air was cooler here.

Percy squeezed her hand once, gently.

“It was a good day,” he said softly. Annabeth looked up at him and gave him a small smile, then nodded. 

"It was." 

They sat down on the shore, the same place they had sat days before on his sixteenth birthday. Their shoulders were almost touching. 

The air smelled like smoke from the bonfire, clean water, and summer.

For a while, they didn’t talk, just listened to the waves.

Percy leaned back on his hands, watching the stars blink into view one by one. He could hear her breathing next to him, steady and quiet, but not relaxed.

He knew her too well. She only got that still when she was thinking too hard.

He turned his head.

“You okay?”

She glanced at him. “Yeah.” It was too quick.

He waited.

She didn’t look away, but she didn’t look convinced either. Something was sitting behind her eyes. 

He swallowed.

“We haven’t really talked lately,” he said gently. “Like… actually talked. About real stuff.”

She stayed quiet.

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine,” he added quickly. “But if you do… I’m here. I can listen. You don’t have to figure it out alone or whatever.” He shrugged, suddenly awkward. “I’m good at listening. Sometimes.”

That got the tiniest smile out of her.

“Sometimes,” she agreed.

The smile faded, though.

She pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them, staring out at the lake.

“The day was great,” she said softly. “Everyone laughing like that… it felt normal. For a second.”

Percy nodded.

“Yeah.”

“But it also…” She hesitated.

He didn’t interrupt.

“It reminded me of last time we did the games.”

His chest tightened.

She kept talking, voice quieter now.

“Silena was there. Charlie too. Bronte. And so many others.”

She swallowed.

“It just felt like they were supposed to still be there,” she said. “Like if I turned around, they’d be arguing over cupcakes or something. And I know they’re not,” she added quickly. “I’m not pretending they are. It’s just—" Her fingers tightened around her sleeves. “Today made it… real again. How much we lost. never forgot, but today kind of… solidified it.”

Percy nodded slowly.

“Yeah,” he said. “I kept looking for Beckendorf, too.”

She glanced at him.

He shrugged, staring at the water.

“Every time something broke, my brain was like, ‘Charlie’ll fix it.’” A small breath of a laugh. “Then I remembered.”

Silence settled again.

Their shoulders brushed. This time, neither of them moved away.

Percy bumped hers lightly.

“They would’ve liked today,” he said.

Annabeth nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Silena would’ve destroyed everyone at face paint.”

“She absolutely would’ve.”

“Charlie would’ve eaten all the prizes.”

“Without competing.”

“Obviously.”

"And I think Bronte would've actually gotten Clarisse at dogeball."

A tiny smile crept back onto her face, soft and real, her eyes a little bright from unshed tears, and Percy would fight monsters for it, maybe he already had.

After a moment, her hand slid until her pinky hooked with his.

He laced their fingers together.

They stayed like that for a while. Hands tangled, and shoulders touching.

Percy watched the moonlight ripple across the lake and tried not to think too hard about anything.

“There’s this dream I keep having,” he said suddenly.

Annabeth didn’t look surprised he’d broken the silence. She just hummed softly.

“Yeah?”

“It’s… weirdly normal. Not monster weird. Just regular weird.”

That got a tiny smile out of her.

“The worst kind,” she said.

“Exactly.”

He brushed her knuckles with his thumb.

“I’m up in a tree, like, really high up. I can see the sky through the branches. I can feel the bark and everything. It’s super detailed. The wind, the wood, the leaves moving.” He frowned a little. “And then I fall.”

Annabeth’s fingers tightened slightly around his.

“But here’s the thing,” he continued. “I never feel the fall. It just cuts off. Every time. Like my brain skips it and I wake up.”

She tilted her head, listening carefully now.

“I always thought it was a memory,” he said. “Like something from when I was a kid. I figured I climbed too high once and wiped out or something.”

“…But?”

“A couple of months ago, I told this story, and my mom told me I never fell out of a tree. Ever. Apparently, I was scared of heights when I was little because of another fall I took. Wouldn’t even climb the low branches.”

Annabeth blinked. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. So now I don’t even know where it came from.”

Annabeth tapped her finger lightly against his knuckles, thinking.

“There’s a term for that,” she said.

Percy squinted at her. “For fake tree trauma?”

She huffed a laugh. “No. When people confuse dreams with memories. When your brain files something imaginary like it actually happened.”

He waited.

“…Paramnesia,” she said.

“…Para-what-now?”

“Paramnesia,” she repeated patiently. “Memory distortion. Your mind blends dreams and reality together.”

Percy stared at her.

“…You just carry words like that around for fun, Wise Girl?”

“I read, Seaweed Brain.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He shook his head, smiling.

“Well, that explains about half my life.”

She bumped her shoulder into his. “Half?”

“At this point? Please. I’m basically a professional dream interpreter.” He gestured vaguely. “Prophecies. Visions. Random nightmares that turn out to be real. If there’s a demigod degree for confusing dreams with reality, I have a PhD.”

Annabeth laughed quietly.

Gods, he liked that sound.

The quiet stretched again.

Percy watched their joined hands for a second.

“Okay,” he said.

Annabeth glanced at him. “Okay… what?”

“There’s more. About the dream.”

She shifted a little, giving him her full attention.

“Okay, let's hear it.”

“The day we—” He gestured vaguely between them. “You know. Talked. About us. Actually talked.”

She looked away from him for a second, then turned back. 

“Yeah.”

“I had it again that night.”

Her brows knit together.

“The tree one?”

“Yeah. Same thing at first. Same branches, same sky. Same stupid falling feeling.” He swallowed. “But you were there.”

Annabeth stilled.

“Down on the ground,” he continued. “You called my name. Like you were trying to get my attention.”

Her fingers tightened around his again.

“And then you climbed up.”

She blinked. “I climbed a tree in your dream?”

He nodded.

“You were wearing your Yankees cap, but I could see you, so I realized it was a dream.”

Annabeth tilted her head. 

“And then what?” she asked softly.

Percy looked back out at the lake.

“We got to the top together.” His voice dropped a little. "And when we looked around… we weren’t in some random forest or whatever.”

He paused.

“It was camp.”

She frowned. “Camp?”

“But not now. Not rebuilt. Not the cabins we fixed. The old one. The way it looked when I first got here. Broken climbing wall. Messy strawberry fields. The Hermes cabin looking like it was about to collapse.”

Annabeth went very quiet.

“Oh,” she said.

“Yeah.”

It was a little nostalgic to think about it. His heart squished a little in his chest, and the waves got a little higher, reaching the bottom of his shoes.

It was before everything. Before the losses and funerals. Before growing up too fast.

“Like… the beginning,” she murmured.

“Yeah. Like the beginning.”

Maybe that was the whole meaning of the dream. But then he laughed under his breath before he could continue with the analysis.

"What?"

He shrugged, embarrassed.

“I was gonna say something really stupid.”

She smiled. “You usually do.”

“Wow. Rude.”

“Go on.”

He groaned. “You’re gonna hate it.”

“Percy.”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Maybe I just… dreamed you because you’re my dream girl.”

There was a silence before Annabeth burst out laughing. Head tipped back, shoulders shaking.

“Oh my gods,” she said. “You are laying it on thick.”

“I warned you!”

“That is the worst line I’ve ever heard.”

“Hey, it came from the heart, okay? My brain doesn’t do poetry.”

She bumped her forehead lightly against his shoulder, still smiling, a little flustered.

“Seaweed Brain,” she muttered, fond.

He smiled too, softer now.

“I just…” he said quietly, “after everything— after that whole weird limbo thing we were stuck in for years, where we almost said stuff but didn’t and kept almost losing each other—”

He exhaled.

“I’m just really happy we’re… here. Like, actually here. Together. Not almost.”

Annabeth didn’t joke this time.

She just squeezed his hand and reached up to kiss his cheek. Percy turned his face and stole a kiss anyway, making her smile against his lips.

She nuzzled at his side, tucked under his arm, and hugged his waist. He looked ahead at the water, the minimal light from the moon making it shine while it moved.

Maybe it wasn’t just some random brain glitch, maybe it wasn’t just paramnesia or prophecy leftovers or whatever.

Maybe it was simpler than that.

Maybe climbing meant moving forward, growing up, and finally getting to look past the next branch. And falling probably meant that he couldn't reach that, not before anyway, not when he thought for the longest time, he hadn’t had a future.

Sixteen was the deadline; everything beyond that was the unknown.

But now, now there was tomorrow, next summer. College, maybe. Stupid normal things.

A life.

And that was somehow scarier than dying ever had been, because now there was something to lose, something he thought he would never have.

Someone.

He glanced at Annabeth.

Moonlight caught in her blonde braids and the silver, her brown eyes reflecting black pools from the lake.

She wasn’t the fall.

She was the one climbing up with him. Meeting him halfway.

If he slipped, she’d still be there.

If the future were a jump, they’d jump together.

And yeah, the past would always be behind them. Ghosts at the edge of the trees, and names they’d never stop missing. But that didn’t mean they had to stay there.

They could carry them forward, build something better for all of them.

Percy intertwined their fingers again, tighter this time.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Yeah?”

“Next time I dream about climbing a tree…”

She looked at him.

“Don’t let me fall, okay?”

Annabeth smiled.

“Never,” she said.