Chapter Text
“‘Agon’ means ‘contest’ in Ancient Greek,” Chiron told them. “What are you competing for?”
That was a rhetorical question. Unlike The Sleeping Beauty, Agon was a short neo-classical ballet with no clear story. The characters, if it could be said to have any, were entirely up to dancers’ discretion.
Soon after The Sleeping Beauty closed, cast lists for the rest of the season went up. Percy and Annabeth had been slotted to dance together again, this time in the pas de deux in Agon.
Percy had danced in it before in the pas de trois, but never in the pas de deux, only understudying it a handful of times in the last six years, usually under Beckendorf, who, no doubt would be dancing it with Annabeth if he weren’t still injured.
Percy tried not to dwell on his growing anxiety that his new-found success was only the result of a dear friend’s misfortune. Instead, he tried to revel in the fact that he had the opportunity to dance in Agon at all. The music and movements were wholly unique and captivating; it was a 180 from The Sleeping Beauty or Diamonds, and a welcome challenge and change of pace for both of he and Annabeth.
Agon pushed their balance and flexibility to their limits, especially for Annabeth, as the two of them performed moves together that were more like a circus act than a ballet. And that was its appeal. The Sleeping Beauty had certainly tested their technical strength, especially Annabeth’s, but Agon tested the limits of the human body itself; the contest, it seemed, was between Percy’s muscles and the choreography itself. He and Annabeth, though, didn’t need any help from Balanchine’s work of choreographed madness or Stravinsky’s unsettling string to appear in tense, silent competition with each other. That they carried off all on their own.
~*~*~
Despite the long days of rehearsals, offering them a lot of time and proximity to each other, the two hadn’t talked much since she kissed him after The Sleeping Beauty.
When she kissed him, Percy’s whole world stopped for a moment, and all he could think about was kissing her more. He wanted to place his hands on her face, pull her closer, deepen the kiss, and finally get a date with her. But the kiss was too short for any of that; it was a little more than a peck, but a little less than a kiss. Annabeth pulled away almost as soon as she had leaned in. She had smiled at him before walking off to her dressing room, leaving Percy stunned on the stage trying to remember his own name.
Since then, though, it felt like she had been avoiding him. Or maybe he was avoiding her.
They moved through the choreography, learning each spin, note, and circus act step that Stravinsky and Balanchine had dared to imagine. It was just them – the raw movements, the dancers, the choreography, and the music. The music dictated the movements, and the movements told the story of the choreography. The dancers and the dance were both in perfect balance with each other. They had to be; Balanchine, from beyond the grave, was forcing them into such precarious positions that one unbalanced step risked total collapse.
They moved quickly, the legs and hips moving ahead of the torso in most movements. Percy helped Annabeth balance on one leg as she wrapped her other leg around his shoulder and neck. He dropped her down into a split, and then lifted her up quickly. He pressed her into the air as she spread her legs in a straddle. It was modern, radical, and seductive. They pushed and pulled away from each other. He followed her around the stage, lifting her up or being pulled by her. He thought about Chiron’s first question to them: what are you competing for?
Percy stood in front of Annabeth, both of them sweaty and trying not to breath too hard as they moved into the most technically challenging move of the dance. Small wisps of her curly blonde hair were pressed onto her forehead with sweat, her cheeks were pink, and her leotard was dotted with sweat patches. Percy knew he looked about the same, thanks to the full-length mirrors inherent to a ballet studio.
Percy held her hand, as she went into a penche, a standing split, while still on pointe. While Percy held her hand to keep her balanced, he quickly dropped to the floor and onto his back, all the while helping Annabeth stay balanced. If he wasn’t aware of her balance, or if he was too close or too far from her, she would drop. It made Annabeth’s balances in The Sleeping Beauty look like child’s play.
Percy dropped on his back, but he was too far forward. He let go of her hand to keep from pulling her forward onto her face, and she dropped out of her balance. Mr. D had the pianist cut the music, and they ran the move again. Annabeth stayed balanced the second time, but barely. They were still off and keeping her up while he went down depended entity on their strength, not their balance. Percy felt her push her hand into his, as she tried to keep herself balance. His arm muscles strained, as he watched her muscles strain in return, the heal of her palm digging into his, her calf and ab muscles flexing as they tried to hold her up despite the circumstances. If they were on stage, they would have counted it a success, considering that Annabeth had stayed on pointe. In the rehearsal room, though, their struggle didn’t go unnoticed, and they ran it again, and again, and again, until Percy could find Annabeth’s balance in his sleep.
~*~*~
“Keep your eyes on each other,” Mr. D told them, “keep the tension throughout.” He walked over to them and re-demonstrated how exactly he wanted them to move. “This dance is a series of challenges. If I go here,” he did one of Annabeth’s steps, “will you follow?” He did one of Percy’s steps.
The repeated the steps themselves. Annabeth looked back to him – the challenge. Will you follow? Percy stepped forward, close behind her.
~*~*~
“Do you think we’re lovers?” Annabeth asked during lunch.
Percy looked up from his salad. “What?”
“In Agon, do you think we’re lovers?”
Percy thought for a moment. The two had to be in some kind of relationship; maybe the relationship was changing. Maybe it was new and growing and scary, or maybe it was old and challenging in other ways.
“There’s certainly an intimacy there,” Percy answered her. “I think, they’re either lovers or maybe they were almost-lovers.”
Annabeth nodded. “And the ending?”
“What about it?”
“Do you think there’s a winner?” Her gray eyes were wide with curiosity for his answer.
“I don’t think there’s a winner,” he told her, “I think they either resolved the issue, or they gave up.”
Annabeth pushed some food around on her plate. “That makes sense. Which do you think it was?”
“I don’t know,” Percy admitted, “but I hope they didn’t give up.”
“Me too.”
~*~*~
“You haven’t talked to her yet?” Grover asked him.
“No,” he admitted, resting his face in his palms.
Grover leaned back, relaxing into Percy’s couch. “Well no wonder things are weird between you two.”
Percy knew that Grover was right. Nearly every day for two weeks they had danced together, eaten lunch together, and walked to the subway together. And not once had Percy had the balls to just ask, “hey what the fuck was that about?”
“She’s probably not going to talk about it first,” Grover said.
“Why wouldn’t she?”
“Ball’s in your court, dude. She made a move, and you haven’t said anything. She’s probably afraid of being rejected anymore, so she’s just going to pretend nothing happened.”
Percy started straight ahead at the TV, trying to lose himself in the low-volume Office rerun that was playing. “Yeah, but she didn’t give me a chance to do anything. What if she kissed me, realized she didn’t like me, and now is hoping I forget the whole thing ever happened so that she doesn’t have to turn me down.”
Grover exhaled. “You know how you could solve all of this?”
“How?”
“Talk to her.”
~*~*~
Grover was right. Percy knew that. But he still wanted a second opinion. He walked down to the costume shop for his fitting hoping to find Silena. She knew Annabeth well enough. She might have a stronger insight on what the kiss might have meant.
He glanced around the costume shop but didn’t spot her.
“Hey,” he asked Mitchell, “is Silena around?”
“No, she just went home sick,” he told her.
“She puked in my trash can!” Drew yelled from the other side of the room, obviously annoyed and disgusted.
“It was quite the sight,” Mitchell said, almost laughting. Percy scrunched up his face at the image, before heading to Lacy’s workstation for his fitting.
~*~*~
About forty-five seconds into the pas de deux, they shared a choreographed moment of stillness. They face each other, silently staring each other down, waiting, daring the other to move. Percy looked at her. Why won’t you talk to me? What do you want from me? Why did you kiss me? Annabeth looked back at him, tall and proud, refusing to give an answer.
At the end of the dance, the music ends abruptly, and Annabeth drapes her body over Percy’s in a gentle embrace. He thought about her question again: Do you think there is a winner? Percy thought about the question as he caught his breath, but he still couldn’t figure out an answer.
~*~*~
They had far more productions of Agon than they had of The Sleeping Beauty. They performed about four times a week, every week, for a month. Sixteen shows. Eight hours of rehearsal in the morning and then the show at night. Twelve-hour days full of nothing but some unspoken contest.
Their interpersonal tension didn’t seem to affect Annabeth at all, so much so that Percy began to wonder if it was entirely one-sided. Maybe the kiss was a simple thank you between friends, the result of emotions running high at the close of successful show. Maybe it didn’t mean anything at all.
That possibility didn’t make Percy feel any better.
Still, Percy couldn’t let any of that get the better of him. He had seen Beckendorf in the PT room a few days a week. He was pretty sure he’d be back with the company come May. If Percy wanted to continue to be featured, to be promoted, he couldn’t let whatever was going on with Annabeth stand in the way of that.
The two stood in the wings during the third performance that first week, a random Thursday show for an audience full of old rich people. They watched the pas de trois complete their dance, waiting to walk on stage together and begin. They didn’t say anything to each other, they didn’t hug, they just stood in silence, looking forward.
“Did you ever figure out the ending?” Percy asked her, breaking the silence, as the crowd began to applaud.
Annabeth took a deep breath. “I think I did,” she said without explanation.
The dance progressed as it should until the balancing act. Percy, for just a moment, lost focus on where her balance was. As he dropped, she fell out of pointe. Her penche was still intact, and she simply rolled out of pointe. An audience member unfamiliar with the ballet might have thought it was part of the choreography. But Percy knew that it wasn’t. His stomach dropped, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. The rest of the dance was left.
When the curtain closed and they took their bows, Chiron had the two of them stay on stage and run the balance again. This time, Percy stayed focused. You know her, he thought, you know her body and her balance. Don’t let her fall. And he knew his own body, his own balance, better than anyone. Chiron counted out the beats of the music, and Percy dropped right when and where he was supposed to, keeping Annabeth supported and stable throughout.
“Good,” Chiron said, before having them quickly leave the stage so the next ballet could begin.
~*~*~
“I’m sorry,” Percy said to her as he walked her to the subway.
“For the balance?” She asked. Percy nodded.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” she said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Seriously, it’s okay, it happens. I’ve fallen off pointe with Beckendorf too. It’s a rough move.” Percy furrowed his brow, thrown off by her casual demeanor. He’d watched her beat herself up over falling out of The Sleeping Beauty balances, and that was just in rehearsal. Percy decided not to test his luck. He was relieved that she didn’t seem like she was about to push him in front of a moving train.
“I’m surprised you’re so cool about this. I thought you would claw my eyes right out.”
She shrugged. “Shit happens sometimes. I know you’re a good dancer, we we’re both just a little off,” Percy flushed a bit, “besides, we’ve got 13 more shows left.”
“I can’t believe the season is almost over,” Percy said.
“I know. Feels like we just started.”
Annabeth started down the subway steps ahead of him. Her winter jacket was gone, replaced with a lighter Spring coat. Her winter hat was gone too, replaced with a faded Yankees cap to hide her deflated show hair.
He caught up to her at the turnstile. “Beckendorf will probably be dancing next season,” he said.
“Yeah,” she said, her face and tone neutral. Percy had hoped she’d sound disappointed. Or even elated; at least then he’d have an idea of where he stood.
“Do you think we’ll get to dance together next season?”
Annabeth shrugged. “I hope so. I think we’ve proved we make a good team.” She turned to face him, and for a fleeting moment Percy felt like he had to confidence to pull her in close and kiss her, but that moment blew past them like an express train. Instead, she moved first, pulling him into a quick hug, reminding him not to stress too much about their mistake. She pulled away after a moment, and headed down the stairs to the downtown train, leaving Percy with more questions than answers.
~*~*~
The rest of the month passed without incident. Both of them managed to stay on their feet throughout Agon, and both managed to effectively avoid talking about their feelings in any meaningful way. Percy was starting to think that Grover had been right – maybe the kiss was a congratulations, celebration kiss, and she wasn’t talking about it was because it really didn’t mean anything.
“But if that’s true, should I not ask her out?” He asked Grover over the phone.
“I don’t know, dude. Might be worth it, but …”
“But what?”
“Wasn’t she engaged, like, a year ago?”
“Yeah? So?”
“So, she was getting married to a guy she had been with for, what? A century. And that ended not even a year ago.”
“So, it’s too soon to ask her out?”
Grover sighed. “I’m not going to tell you not to do it, but she might not be ready for something yet. It might not have anything to do with you.” Percy nodded, which of course, Grover couldn’t hear. “I know you like her, but she might need you to just be her friend right now.”
Percy sat down on his bed and sighed, a wordless admission that Grover was right.
“I’m rooting for you,” Grover told him, “but it might not the right time. Doesn’t mean it won’t ever be the right time.”
~*~*~
The season ended just as it was starting to actually feel like Spring. There wasn’t much ceremony attached to the final shows, just some bows, a few congratulations, and the promise of a great Summer season when everyone came back from break. A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Chiron told them, would be their big summer money maker. Percy could already see the cast list in his head. He’d likely be Lysander partnered with Piper as Hermia, always the shorter, dark-haired girl, while Annabeth would be Helena, the taller, blonde girl, partnered with Beckendorf. Chiron tended to be consistent with his casting of that ballet; Beckendorf had explained to Percy once that it was because of descriptions of the girls in Shakespeare’s play. Percy had thought it was kind of dumb to cast based on the words of a play when ballets, necessarily, were wordless. But as he stood in front of his bathroom mirror, buttoning up the top buttons on his blue collared shirt, he reconsidered his opinion. Maybe wordlessness wasn’t always easier.
~*~*~
Annabeth had invited him to her end-of-the-season company party. It was just fifteen of them or so, mostly principles and soloists, plus Lee Fletcher and Silena. Percy had been to a number of these kinds of parties over the years, and they always tended to be tame but fun affairs, with a decent amount of boozing and storytelling.
Percy stood outside Annabeth’s door, a tray of his mom’s cookies in his hand (“Can I bring anything?” “Actually, if you wanted to bring some of those chocolate chip cookies, I wouldn’t complain”), and listened to Beckendorf loudly tell the story of the time he dropped Annabeth during Romeo and Juliet. Percy smiled at the sound of the familiar voice, and then knocked on the door.
Annabeth opened the door after a moment, and she smiled when she saw him. Her hair was pulled over one shoulder, held back with an antique-style comb with green jewels. Her curls almost blended into the pale-yellow dress she was wearing, which seemed to be an early celebration of spring. The dress’s skirt stopped at her knees; her legs were bare, and she wasn’t wearing shoes, although she did have on a pair of light blue ankle socks, likely to cover up the blisters and band-aids that were hard at work healing her feet from the season. She looked charming. Percy felt his heart rate go up as she pulled him into a quick hug to say hello, before taking to tray of cookies away from him to set them on the table.
“Percy is here!” She announced to the room.
~*~*~
Most people were already there when he arrived. He poured himself a small glass of red wine to drink slowly and started to mingle. He laughed at Lee’s husband’s stories of mishaps backstage and on stage in various Broadway productions, he joined Piper and Reyna at chastising Jason when he complained that Nutcracker season was too hard (“You think it’s hard? Try being a woman in the corps! That’s hard!”), and he had toasted to Beckendorf’s announcement that he was planning on dancing in the summer season.
“That’s not all the good news,” Silena added when the toast ended. Everyone paused, waiting for part two. Silena held the silence for a moment, deliberately building anticipation. “We’re having a baby!” She yelled finally. The room erupted with cheers of congratulations, everyone rushing to hug the couple.
“I didn’t think you had it in you,” Piper joked to Beckendorf.
“It’s just my knee that’s busted,” he said, “everything else works just fine.”
“I knew it,” Annabeth said to them.
“You did not,” Silena said back.
“Please,” she said, “Beckendorf has been taking sips of your drink all night. And everyone knows he hates white wine.”
“You, Annabeth,” Beckendorf said, pointing at her, “are too observant for your own good.”
~*~*~
The party was still in full swing an hour later, but it didn’t take long for Percy to notice that Annabeth had disappeared from her own apartment.
“I think she stepped outside,” Piper said, when Percy asked if she knew where Annabeth was.
“Downstairs?” He asked.
Piper pointed to the bedroom. “Fire escape.”
~*~*~
Percy stepped out onto the fire escape. Annabeth was turned away from the window, staring out over the West Village. Percy noticed, then, that the jeweled hair comb was a butterfly. Percy stared at it for a moment, taking in the way its green jewels complimented her yellow hair and dress; the city lights bounced off of it in such a way that for moment, it looked like it was glowing.
Annabeth jumped a little when she heard Percy step onto the fire escape. She had set her wine glass down precariously on the grated bottom but reached down to pick it up when she saw it was him.
“Cute pin,” he said, pointing to the butterfly in her hair.
She touched it, like she had forgotten it was there. “Oh, thanks. It’s Silena’s. Part of her Titanic replica collection.”
“You’re both suckers for a good tragic romance, huh?” Percy joked, walking towards to railing of the fire escape.
“I feel bad for people who aren’t,” she said, gazing out at the village, not looking at him, “tragic ending or not, life always seems a little more lovely in those movies.”
“Everything okay?” Percy asked her.
“Yeah,” she said, rubbing her arms to warm them up. It wasn’t a windy night, but the late March air had an uncomfortable bite to it. “Just wanted some air.”
Percy put an arm around her to try and keep her warm, and she leaned into his chest before drinking the last of her wine. Percy’s heart was pounding hard enough that he was sure she could feel it or hear it as she rested against him. She didn’t say anything about it, though.
She looked up at him, her cheeks pink, maybe from the wine, maybe from the cold. Percy noticed that she had slipped on a pair of shoes, so she wasn’t standing barefoot against the cold metal.
Annabeth shifted. Percy’s arm wasn’t around her anymore. They were standing chest-to-chest, just staring at each other in unchoreographed silence.
If I go here, Percy thought, placing a hand on her waist, will you follow?
The next moment, before Percy could really understand how they got there, they were kissing. Not the quick nearly-peck they had already shared, but real, unquestionable kissing. His arms wrapped around her torso to pull her in close to him as her hands found anchor in his hair.
Just as Percy began to feel certain that the tension between them had shattered completely, Annabeth’s wine glass shattered instead.
The sound of the glass slipping from her hand and splintering on the grate pulled them apart. Before Percy could react to the bits of broken glass that decorated Annabeth’s fire escape and the fire escapes of her downstairs neighbors, Annabeth moved away from him and gripped the railing.
“Annabeth?” He asked.
Her breath was heavy and labored, like she had just broken through the surface of the ocean after being submerged without air for minutes. “I’m so sorry,” she said.
Percy moved close to her but didn’t touch her for fear of making it worse. “You don’t have to be sorry. Can I get you anything?”
Annabeth shook her head. “Just … please don’t hate me.”
Percy rested his hand on hers. “You know that would never happen.” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles to try and get her hand to relax. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She took a deep breath. This one seemed to be easier for her to take in. Her breathing began to regulate, and after a moment, she said, “Yeah. I guess we should.” She pulled her hands off the railing and shook them around a bit, like she was trying to expel her anxiety out of her fingertips. “I don’t want you to think that I’m leading you on,” she said after a moment.
Percy’s face fell. She didn’t like him after all. “Oh. Okay. Thanks for being honest –”
She cut him off. “But I don’t want you to think that I just kissed you because you were just some hot guy who was around.” Percy furrowed his brow. “Fuck, let me just, start over.”
“Okay.”
Annabeth took a deep breath. “I like you. A lot. Of course, I do. You are so kind, and so understanding,” she moved close to him and held his hand, “and you are too cute for your own good,” she said. “I’m just not ready. I …” she took a paused and stepped back from him, leaving about a foot of space between them. “I am so afraid of being in a relationship again. Not because I think you’d do anything to hurt me, or that I wouldn’t recognize if you were hurting me. It’s that,” she paused again, “when I was with Luke, I learned how to just say yes to anything he wanted. He didn’t want me to wear something? I didn’t wear it. He didn’t want me to watch Moulin Rouge, I didn’t watch it. Don’t hang out with him? I didn’t hang out with him? Don’t go out with her? I didn’t go out with her. It was so much easier to just say yes than to fight with him about it.
“When I kissed you after Sleeping Beauty or just now, it was because I forgot to be afraid. But I always remember again.
“And just before, I wanted to keep kissing you so badly, not just because I think you’re cute and think you’re a great kisser. I wanted to keep going because it would be easy. I wanted to, even though I know I’m not ready for that. And then maybe you would have asked me out. And I would have said yes, because we get along, and you’re so sweet, and I do like you. But also because saying yes is always the easy thing.
“And maybe we would go on that date and have an amazing time. I’m sure we would, actually. But then what happens when one night you want pizza, but I want Chines food, but I don’t tell you I want Chines food, I just agree to order pizza because that’s easier. And then what happens when you say let’s go to Long Island for a get away, but I don’t want to go to Long Island, I want to go to New Jersey, but I don’t say that, because it’s easier to just go to Long Island. And then what happens in a year or two when you say: ‘Let’s move in together,’ but I don’t want to move in together, but I do it, because I don’t want to fight?” She was looking slightly past Percy towards the left, like she was imagining a million different futures for them all at once, all of them bad.
“And I don’t think you’re the kind of man that Luke is. But that doesn’t matter. It’s not your shit, it’s mine. I don’t think I’ve learned how to be in a relationship without giving away parts of myself. And I can’t do that again. I just started to get those parts back.
“If I asked you to stay the night, or if we went on that date tomorrow, I would probably have an amazing time. But I might find myself on a beach on Long Island in July wishing tonight had never happened. And I don’t want that. When we go out, I want it to be perfect, so that even if it doesn’t work out, we never hate each other.” She moved close to him again. “I don’t ever want to hate you,” she leaned up and kissed his cheek, “because I want to keep dancing with you.”
Percy wanted to hug her, but he held back. He stared at her face. He wasn’t angry at her. He didn’t feel rejected either. But he wasn’t hopeful.
In the few silent moments they shared on the balcony, Percy traced his feelings to a deep melancholy resting at the bottom of his chest. He looked Annabeth’s face: her striking gray eyes, her cheeks pink from the cold, and her lipstick a little smudged around her mouth, and he wished he could go back in time just a few minutes and tell his past self to savor that kiss. To kiss back quickly and with intention. To hold onto her for a moment longer. To remember the outline of her lips on yours, the way her hand rested on the back of your neck as you stood there in stunned stillness like an idiot. To react faster. Because that might be the last chance you have.
~*~*~
Percy left the party soon after that, making quick goodbyes only to Piper, Beckendorf, and Silena, before sneaking out the front door.
He woke up feeling hungover, which, considering his solitary glass of wine, he figured was impossible. Still, there was a deep unpleasant feeling in his stomach that kept him from eating breakfast, and a tension behind his eyes that refused to subside even after water and a shower.
He thought about turning his phone off and wallowing in misery in front of the TV all day, but he decided his pity party would be more fun with one more person.
He was halfway through trying to convince Grover to come commiserate with him, when his phone started to ring.
Miami, FL.
Percy nearly ignored it, figuring it was some scam call about an extended warranty on a vehicle he didn’t own, but those calls were usually from New York numbers.
He answered expecting a bot.
“Hello?” He asked.
“Is this Percy Jackson?” An older woman asked him.
“This is he.” He sat up straighter on the couch as if she could hear his posture.
“This is Lupa Lopez from Miami City Ballet.”
Percy heart started to beat faster. “Hi, Ms. Lopez, how are you?”
“I’m great, thanks. I was just in New York a few weeks ago and caught your performance in Sleeping Beauty.”
“Really?”
“Yes, you were excellent. I still remember your audition for our company. I always knew you’d be great.”
Percy’s heart was beating even faster, unsure why she was calling, but flattered to hear that she remembered him. “Thanks,” he finally managed.
“Of course,” she said. “I was calling to see if you’d want to come down to Miami for a month or so and guest in our Spring season?”