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Percy should have been studying. But it was just one of those days all ADHD people had where you had all the time and energy and motivation in the world to do exactly one task which wasn’t what you actually needed to get done.
He was mixing the blue food coloring into the second batch of cookie dough when he heard the door open and smiled to himself, knowing that Annabeth was home, just on the other side of the wall of their little student apartment.
“Hey Wise Girl.” He called. He glanced at the clock. He probably should have at least made dinner instead of baking so much. But he was already up to his elbow in flour. Maybe they could order in. New Rome, unlike Rome Rome, had great pizza, and offered good discounts to university students and former praetors.
“Percy,” Annabeth called back, and he hadn’t heard her sound that unsure in a really long time, especially not when saying his name. He paused in his task, his fingers deep in marbled blue dough. “I’m really sorry. Please don’t be too upset.” She sounded so hesitant. Like that time senior year of high school, when she had to ask him for help with Latin homework, and she’d been afraid it would shatter his entire impression of her.
That was worrying. Very worrying. He took a deep breath, and had the presence of mind to turn on the sink, washing at least most of the sticky dough and flour off his hands, even if they were stained blue. “Give me a second.” He said out loud. We’re together, it will be ok. He said to himself. When things got bad, he reminded himself as he shed his apron. It always did the trick, and he knew when he rounded the little wall into the small living area, his face was naturally pleasant, and not grim determination.
When his eyes fell on Annabeth, it probably changed. Because she wasn’t really what he’d expected.
She’d left in the late morning to meet her father for lunch in San Francisco, and had mentioned doing some stuff in the city, going to a store Hazel had recommended, and getting a haircut at some place one of her classmates had suggested. She’d left the apartment with her long blonde hair held in a ponytail. He'd gotten a little carried away after breakfast when they’d been lounging on the couch together, putting off the day's duties. Between his hands and the cheap college issue couch upholstery, her pale ringlets had gone wild and frizzy. He loved her hair like that, but she’d stuck her tongue out at him via the reflection in the little decorative mirror that hung next to the TV, as she ran her fingers through it and pulled it on top of her head.
“I can’t meet my father for lunch with sex hair,” she insisted with a smile, “especially not couch sex hair.”
Percy had watched her try and set the ringlets right for a few minutes. Even pulled up, the ends of her hair brushed down her to her strong back muscles. It didn’t brush her ass, but he stared at that a little, too. Down, her hair had almost been long enough.
Now, the ends of her hair curled over her forehead. He could see the back of her head reflected in the same mirror. It was cut so short at the back and side that those bits didn’t even have room to curl. He could see the shape of her head.
She had definitely not mentioned planning on doing this when she’d gone over her plans today. A haircut, yes, but not so much. If he’d known, he’d have probably tangled his hand in it a lot more before she left. He blinked a few times and then mentally shook himself. Whatever she’d decided to do with her hair was really not pressing, the worried frown on her face was.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, reaching her and leaning in for a kiss she gave without hesitation, the wispy ends of her hair brushed his forehead.
She looked up at him as he pulled away. He wasn’t that much taller than her, in the grand scheme of things, but those early teenage years, where she’d been taller than him, and he’d been an absolute dork about his feelings were seared into his brain. Being shorter than Annabeth, in his mind, was mostly associated with failing to be with Annabeth. He was happy to be past that.
“What’s wrong?” She repeated, and then flung her hands up at her head in explanation.
Percy stared for a few seconds. She didn’t look injured, the only difference was “your hair?”
She looked miserable when she nodded.
“You mentioned you were going to get it cut, but not what you were going to do.” He offered, “it looks nice.” She’d apologized and asked him not to be mad, but had yet to produce anything for him to be mad about. He was just about to ask, when she promptly burst into tears.
It was pretty unwanted, but he did have a script for a crying Annabeth, as much as he wished she never had need to cry. He was already so close, he folded her into his arms.
He walked them both back to the couch and flopped down on it, she followed on top of him and curled up against his chest, he let her tears stain his t-shirt. Her ponytail didn’t fly forward and land in his mouth, and no messy bun hit his nose as she nuzzled into his grasp, but it was the same as always, the perfect weight of Annabeth Chase in his arms, even if the situation wasn’t perfect.
He ran his hand across her back. Soothing circles with the palm of his hand. He could feel the heat of her skin through her thin tank top. With his other hand, he cupped her exposed neck, massaging the sides with his fingers like he did when she had a headache. Over her head he could see the line of it, long and pale and not blocked by anything.
“One of these girls in one of my Berkley classes has these really nice curls, and she swears by this stylist,” Annabeth finally said. Her voice wasn’t wet with sobs, but it was muffled against his body. He liked the hum of her voice, vibrating through him, despite himself.
“I remember” Percy promised. It was one of the reasons he was so surprised by the cut she ended up with. She’d been talking about getting a haircut for several weeks. It was a big decision and Annabeth only made those two ways, after long, careful, thoughtful deliberation or in a rush of impulse.
The last time she’d gotten a haircut had been something like four year ago. It was at the end of the summer after the War with Gaia, after the Roman’s left and before their one year anniversary. He doesn’t actually remember the specifics. Hanging out with Annabeth and his camp friends. Jason had probably been there. Percy had only, really, known Jason Grace for ten months, but he burned bright through his memories. But Annabeth had been lying with her head in his lap, at the beach or on the common or around the campfire, and as he’d been running his fingers through her hair and it caught in the tangles of her curls. She’d started to complain about how dry and tangled the ends had gotten from the trip to Tartarus. Piper, master of the homemade haircuts, had produced scissors and cut it off then and there, so it curled and flipped just below her shoulders. He is sure he remembered how Annabeth smiled and laughed through it, and then threw her discarded hair at him. He also remembered that by the time school started, she’d not liked it at all, and had spent the next couple of years diligently growing it out, before she got distracted with college and California.
She'd approached this differently on purpose, giving it a classic daughter of Athena plan. But normally those plans ended in other people in tears, not Annabeth.
“It was stupid,” Annabeth said, her worst insult, at least in English. “I should have done more research. I should have talked to more people and done some comparison shopping and-” Her voice sounded watery again, like the tears were about to come back.
“Annabeth,” He cut her off, and kissed the top of her head. Not a reprimand, a reminder, a grounding presence.
She took a deep breath against him, and started again, “Well, I didn’t go in prepared enough, anyway,” She mumbled, “I was kind of distracted, maybe. So I told her I wanted something new for Summer and going back to New York and she just kind of nodded. And then it all happened so fast. And the salon was so busy, so much was going on that I couldn’t really pay attention.” The curse of ADHD or maybe the gods, same difference, for them, really, “And so I only noticed what she’d done when she’d cut most of it off.” She lifted a hand and brushed her jaw, maybe demonstrating how short it was, or maybe just reacting to a phantom, dangling flyaway hair that wasn’t there anymore. “And she started talking about how it would be so easy because it would only take 45 minutes to do and then I- I don’t know. I think I freaked out but like, mostly I just listed all the reasons that was bad, because my hair use to take five minutes to do if I was going to be fancy about it and we’re going to camp this summer where there are communal bathrooms and also sword fighting and I’m not a not an Aphrodite girl,” Percy saw one of her cheeks flush pink from his vantage point, “I might have actually said that. To a mortal stylist. Who knows what she thought of me. She said something about having a better option and then I ended up with this.”
She started crying again, but Percy was too concerned with her to remember to keep the wet spot on his shirt wet, and the tears dried as soon as they hit him.
“Hey,” He said, his hand on her neck brushing the short hair at the back of her head. It felt nice against his palm, though it kind of reminded him of the haircut he’d had in fifth grade, at that military school in Jersey. He didn’t mention that, but he did bring his hand up and run his fingers against it. He liked the soft, prickly feeling against his finger tips. He’d love tangling his hands in her hair, but there was something almost more intimate about this. An exposed vulnerability he could reach out and touch and love. “It's ok.” He promised, “I mean, it sucks that the haircutting lady didn’t really listen or do what you wanted. But it's going to be ok.”
She sat up then and pulled away from him, out of his arms. One of her legs was still half way across his lap, but she reached up to wipe at her eyes. They were still a little red, but the storm gray cut through the sadness. Her lip still trembled. “You,” She started, almost an accusation, “You always talk about how much you love- loved my hair.” Which was true enough. “You tell that story of the first time we met, and how you thought my long hair made me look like a princess and how much you loved the curls and just- look at me now.”
Percy did look at her.
Percy had seen Annabeth in a lot of situations that would normally be unflattering. Drenched in sewer water, half dead after supporting the sky for another guy she had a crush on, half dead after taking a knife for him, half dead in Tartarus, after she’d lost a bet with Piper and had to submit to an old fashioned Aphrodite Cabin makeover. Every time, no matter what was caked on her, he’d found her beautiful beyond belief. And Percy Jackson had a lot of belief in beauty, he’d once met Aphrodite in the throes of puberty.
But this wasn’t an unflattering situation. She was sitting on their couch, in their apartment.They were in New Rome, so monsters couldn’t even show up at their door. She had worn a skirt that didn’t reach her knees out today, so her long bare leg rested against his own. It was Sunday, and so no classes, no volunteering down at Camp Jupiter, no internship. The April sun came through the living room window, encircling her in a warm glow. They were together and no one was in immediate danger of dying.
Annabeth would have been always breathtaking in this situation. In her long winter flannel pajamas. In his old sweats and rattie hoodie. In full armor and camo. Her hair long and styled perfectly, or tumbling around her shoulders, or messy from Percy’s intervention, or, really, completely gone, shaved to the scalp.
He looked at her.
Her shirt was gray and brought out her eyes. It left her arms completely uncovered, so he could see every muscle and scar that said, I’m still here and I can kick your ass. It just exposed a hint of her cleavage, but it left her collarbone on full display and easy to reach, and also kiss, he knew how to work around her ever present camp necklace. Her skirt was blue, which was always a bonus, and she wore sandals that left most of her feet exposed. He could see nearly all of her legs, reach out and run a hand up her calf, or trace a finger up a scar that disappeared under her skirt. Her nails were blue, too. A result of a girls night she and Hazel had had a couple of days ago, color chosen of course for him. Around her finger, the magical glow not visible in the sunlight, sat her pearl engagement ring. She’d worn more or less this plenty of times.
Her hair was pretty different. The last time she’d gotten a haircut it hadn’t actually been.
“I am looking at you,” He said, “You look beautiful.” He reached out to brush a couple of relatively longer strands behind her ear, most of them couldn’t reach, and fell back into her face. He pulled on one of the fallen ringlets, lightly, until it straightened. It reached just to her eye.
The short curls were soft and silky under his hands, though, he ran his fingers through the longer part, and then down over the buzzed part below, again. She leaned into his touch and he leaned into her. Kissing her again. Longer, this time, properly. His hand, already on her head, grasped for hair that wasn’t there, instead scratching against her scalp.
She made a noise in the back of her throat. It wasn’t a new noise, Percy had discovered most of her noises years ago in his little Manhattan bedroom, Cabin 3, the Argo II, and her AHS dorm room, but it was a good noise, a pleased noise, and so he rubbed her short hair again and pulled her back closer to him with his other arm.
They were barely getting into anything when Annabeth drew back again, the kind of frown on her face no guy wanted to see when his hand was half way up a woman’s thigh.
“Are you kissing me so you don’t have to look at me.”
“Annabeth!” He probably sounded unfairly exasperated, but this was its own kind of strange. He leaned back from her on the couch, just a little bit. A sliver of distance so nothing really distracted him “Annabeth,” he repeated “what’s wrong?” He reaches up to cup her face again. “I know you don’t like your hair. It sucks that this happened and that you feel bad. But since when do you doubt that I want to look at you?”
The advantage of falling into Tartarus together was that it basically burned relationship insecurity from their minds. Every problem could be put into perspective. Percy had wanted to look at her when she was a walking, rotting, corpse.
Annabeth looked embarrassed, so Percy knew he was onto something. “I just-it’s just everything’s changing.” She finally said. “Everything’s changing again and I don’t know if I’m ready.”
Percy frowned. It was mid-April, they were about to ramp up for finals and then spend the Summer back in New York at Camp Half Blood. Nothing about this semester had been particularly different. Annabeth was talking about half her classes at Berkeley instead of NRU, because of the Architecture program, and he was doing his internship at the Aquarium of the Bay, but they both made it home at night, and only had to deal with a couple of monsters a week. They saw Frank and Hazel and the rest of their Roman friends all the time. Grover was based out of So Cal still, and they saw him at least once a month. Holographic scrolls, Iris messages, and even phone calls and emails kept them in contact with everyone else. Estelle was spouting facts about the Hoover Dam and sea creatures during any conversation lull that went on for more than 30 seconds. They even got along great with Annabeth’s family, which was good because they were right across the bay. It was kind of weird. Percy would have figured he wasn’t the type of boy a girl wanted to take home, but Frederick and him got along great, and Bobby had once declared that Annabeth wasn’t ever allowed to breakup with Percy.
As far as Percy was concerned, things were settled and they’d hit a real stride. If life as a demigod had taught him anything, it was to expect the unexpected, but he didn’t go around anticipating that kind of thing. That was the point of it being unexpected.
“What changes?” He asked.
“All of them“ Annabeth said. “ My dad- he kept asking about the future. And last week one of my professors at Berkeley was asking about the same things, internships and grad school. I mean, even my advisor at New Rome was saying last time we met that I had to think about how to translate my design experience with the Camps and temples and Olympus into stuff for jobs. I have a meeting with the mist advisor at the career center next week about it.”
“Ok,” Percy said, “All that’s over a year away.” He reminded her, “We have another year before we graduate.”
“I know that,” She said, “But it will be here soon. And I need to be planning. And so much of this feels like a dream. College, New Rome, no monsters, everything. And soon it will be over and we’ll have to figure out what comes next.”
“You like figuring out plans,” Percy reminded her, taking her hand and lacing their fingers together. His other hand rubbed circles on her knee. His own advisor had mentioned things about graduate school and internships as well, but Percy wasn’t worried about any of that. His future plan right now was mostly Annabeth.
“I know that,” She said, “But-” her eyes had tears in them again, “I never really expected to make it this long.” She admitted. “So many others don’t. So many of our friends didn’t-”
That Percy understood. “Me neither.” He agreed, “But that doesn’t make it a bad thing.”
“I know that.” Annabeth said, “Or, I should. But just, when I was talking to my dad he kept asking me all these questions. He suddenly has all these expectations, Percy. I think, maybe, he didn’t think I’d be around this long either, or that if I was, I wouldn’t want anything to do with him. But now he’s got all these ideas in his head. He brought a brochure about Harvard’s architecture graduate program. He started talking about how our family has been going there for four generations and I could keep up the tradition, make it five.”
“Magnus enrolled last spring,” Percy pointed out, helpfully, “It's already five.”
She didn’t dignify that with a response, she just kept talking, “He kind of did this when I graduated high school, but like I said, I don’t think he thought I would care about his opinion. I didn’t really, and it wasn’t like he argued when I said we were coming to California. But now- Now he’s got all these ideas. He called old friends in Boston, Percy. He kept talking about Harvard and how much he loved it and all this research he’d done. Like, he’s never had expectations for me, not really, not like this. And now he wants me to carry on some great family tradition.”
“You don’t have to go to Harvard,” Percy reminded her.
“But it is probably the best program in the country. And- it is really important to my dad. It's where my parents met. Magnus is there. That would be nice.” She looked up at him, asking some questions Percy couldn’t quite put his finger on, was she trying to talk herself into something, or him? “And it's the best program. If I can get in-”
“You can get in,” Percy said, with absolute confidence. “Of course you can get in. And Boston is cool.”
Annabeth took a shaky breath “My dad did talk about other programs. He’s been doing research. Columbia’s is great too. My advisor said the same thing.” The same question as she looked at him. He just kind of nodded. “And then my dad started asking me about the wedding, if we were going to get married before grad school. And, it's just too much, Percy. We’re going to have to get married.”
“We don’t have to,” Percy said, suddenly on edge, “But I thought we wanted too.” He’d gotten the engagement ring by chance and had actually planned on keeping it tucked away for several years. But when Annabeth had found out about it, she’d said she didn’t think they should wait to be engaged. It hadn’t even been a full year since then, but in the time since then, they’d twice impulsively decided to go ahead and get married, only being stopped by California and New York marriage laws that required waiting periods, which gave them enough time to consider the ramifications, and decide they didn’t want to be yelled at by his mom or Piper or Rachel or Frank for not having a proper wedding. But the idea that it wasn’t on the table suddenly seemed wrong.
“Of course we want to,” Annabeth said, speaking for both of them, a sure as could be. “But Hera is the goddess of marriage. What if she decides she doesn’t want it for us?” She was crying again, and Percy squeezed her hand.
It was a scary thought “I’m sure we can barter with her. We were two of her chosen seven, and she does owe us A LOT.” He promised, “Maybe we can at least get a oath from her to not just fuck with us for the sake of it.”
Annabeth shook her head, “And then we have to plan a wedding. Sometimes Piper emails me wedding ideas, Percy. It's terrible. China patterns. Table Runners. All the fabric in wedding dresses is so bad, I’ll probably have to weave mine, myself. And that’s just a mortal wedding. We’re kind of a big deal. Will we have to invite gods? What if we don’t invite the right people and someone throws a golden apple during the reception? We don’t have time to fight another Trojan War. Their is so much to plan for a wedding, and I don’t know how we can fit it all into next year and I-”
Percy pulled out the big guns then, he leaned in, and cut her off with a kiss. It was a high risk, high reward move. Annabeth often didn’t like being distracted like that, but if she really needed it, it could be very relaxing.
When he pulled away, after just a few seconds, she took a deep but steady breath and her eyes were closed.
“Ok,” Percy said, “easy solution. We do not have to get married within the next year. Any and all of those logistical decisions can wait. You can tell your dad, even, we won’t get married before you start grad school.” He squeezed their still interlocked hands again. Then he added, “Nothing has to change on that front until you’re ready.”
“I have been ready,” Annabeth said, opening her eyes again, they were as fierce and determined as ever, “since you promised Bob that we would tell our sons and daughters about him. But right now is not a good time.”
“Then we don’t worry about it right now,” Percy promised, “And we tell excitable friends to stop texting event planning ideas, too, maybe. Frank really liked planning giant parties.”
Annabeth actually laughed at that. He hadn’t heard it since before she went out to lunch. Hours was so long to go without Annabeth’s laugh.
“But if all of that was on your mind,” Percy said, “No wonder you couldn’t concentrate on your hair. That evil stylist was basically taking advantage of you.”
Her next laugh maybe had a little bit of a sob to it. “I think I was reenacting Trojan battles in my head while she was cutting my ponytail off.” She admitted, sounding miserable, but also like she could appreciate the ridiculousness of it all. “I know it's different-”
“It's very different,” Percy agreed, reaching up to run a hand though it again. The curls were all so silky soft that his hand gilded right through it. He’d loved running to his fingers through her long hair, too, but it had never gotten caught at least a little bit on a knot or a tangle. “But I like it, a lot.”
The longer bit in the front framed her face in an entirely new way, highlighting her eyes. The bouncy curls offered a softness to her face he didn’t normally think about in association with Annabeth. She wasn’t a hard person by any means, but she was a fierce warrior, and he figured any glance at her confirmed that fact. She still looked dangerous, but the contrast of the short back and sides and the curls on top almost seemed like a better summation. As if to say Of course I’m cute, I’m also dangerous as fuck. It was kind of hot as hell. A new Annabeth who was the same Annabeth all along.
“You look amazing.” He promised. And she blushed just a little bit, before he pulled her into another kiss, which very quickly became him flat on his back on the couch, with Annabeth on top.
When they were done, Annabeth laid on his chest, tracing the lines of his legion tattoo.
“So, Boston?” She asked again.
“Boston’s cool,” Percy still in a bit of a haze.
“You’d come with me, then?”
Percy actually scoffed, “I am super insulted by that question. So I’m not going to answer that. As long as we’re together, and all that.” He could feel her smile on his chest. He hadn’t known, in those first fleeting months with Annabeth, when they had been learning each other’s bodies, but not each other’s souls, what he was missing with the curse of achilles. He could never have felt the small twitch of her lips with his once invulnerable skin. He’d gotten kisses at half strength. He’d thought sex, in those few learning months, had been great. But the feel of Annabeth’s body on his, in the stables on the Argo II, had quickly corrected that assumption.
“Well,” Annabeth pushed up, just a little bit. “It's just that my dad did a lot of research, as part of his plan to get me to Harvard. Did you know about all the excellent Marine Biology Masters programs in Boston? Because my dad does. He shook the academia networking tree. You might be getting an email.”
“I can’t believe you are using sex to try and get me to agree to more school.” Percy complained, but it warmed his heart that Frederick had thought about him. That he knew Annabeth and Percy were a unit, and any attempts to get Annabeth to Cambridge would mean getting Percy there too.
Annabeth just laughed. He’d messed up her pale hair even more, so it twisted and curled and stuck straight up on the top of her head. From his angle beneath her, it looked like an intricately forged golden crown. Like a princess.
“Gods of Olympus, you are beautiful.” He couldn’t help but say. He was still struck by it sometimes. He was overwhelmed by Annabeth. That this smart, powerful, dangerous, beautiful woman was here and his. That they were alive and together. They had enough of a promise of a future for Annabeth to have a minor breakdown over it. It was the best feeling in the entire world.
She climbed off of him, then, slightly decreasing the bestness of the feeling. But it wasn’t like it was hard to still be madly in love with her. The idea that he would ever not want to look at her was truly ridiculous. She glanced out the front window. It was just about six, he thought, bright afternoon fading into early evening. Her new hair exposed her long neck in full. He decided to not resist the urge to walk up behind her and mouth at it from behind.
“I have failed to make dinner,” He admitted, in between kisses. “So we either need to go out and get something, or order in.”
“Out?” She sounded unsure again. And he pulled back enough to spin her around in his arms.
“We could go to the new Greek place by the Forum and you can mock the architecture. Or we could try that Cajan place in Oakland Hazel liked. Or we haven’t been to the Mexican place you like near campus in awhile, we could try there.”
She frowned and then looked into the little mirror on the wall. Percy liked the picture of the two of them together. Her mostly dressed and him mostly undressed. He dipped his head to rest against her’s, and their short hair mingled together, black and blonde.
“I can’t go out like this,” she said.
“I mean-” Percy reached over and adjusted the strap one of her shoulders. She’d lost her bra, under it, but she was still wearing her tank top. He certainly didn’t mind. “I should probably put on clothes, but I think you’re mostly good. Maybe get a sweater, if it gets colder when the sun goes down.”
“I can’t go out with my hair like this.”
Percy reached up towards it again, trying to do what he does to his own hair in the morning, when it stuck up every which way, combing it down and to on side with his fingers. It mostly works. Like his hoodies, t-shirts, and boxers, it looks better on Annabeth.
“No,” She shook her head, undoing some of his work. “I can’t, it's not-”
“Wise Girl, you can’t stay here until your hair grows out,” he said. He did not say that it was going to take literal years for her hair to get that long again. But Annabeth was smart, she probably knew that. “We can totally order Pizza or Indian or something tonight. But we have class tomorrow. And game night with the officers.” Percy, Annabeth, Frank, and Hazel vs. all the centurions of the 12th legion at Ancient Mediterranean Risk had to date resulted in a victory ratio of 214 to 1, because once it had been Lavinia’s birthday, and Frank was a softy who let her win.
“What is everyone going to say?” Annabeth asked.
“I assume something like ‘wow, Annabeth Chase is impossibly hot. Percy is so lucky. Also I’m scared of her.’ Same as always.”
“I think they’ll probably ask what happened.”
“I mean, if you want to tell them that it was a monster attack or something, I’ll totally back you up.” Percy promised, “We can make it something really impressive. Like a drakon or a laistrygonian or whatever you want.”
“I used to have nightmares about losing my hair to monster attack. When you were missing I used to be afraid some teeth or claws or something was going to cut it off, and you wouldn’t recognize me.”
“You were the only thing I remembered,” He told her, though it was a truth well exchanged between the two of them. “That was never going to happen.”
She nodded, “Still, I probably shouldn’t pretend I cut my hair because of monsters. Piper and Clarisse both actually did that. They might be weird about it. Gods, I just don’t want to have to explain that I was planning battles for a new Trojan War while I was having a breakdown about the future, and so did not notice what the woman with sharp objects near my head was doing.” She leaned back into Percy. “It sounds really pathetic when I put it that way. I have terrible hair and a really embarrassing story.”
“You don’t have to tell them that part. Just say you wanted a change or something. When Piper doesn’t buy it, blame it on Demigod impulsivity.” With his big toe he ghosted over Annabeth’s left foot, where she’d gotten an alpha-theta-epsilon tattoo at 1 in the morning last spring, the night before a major exam, when she’d been full of stress and sugar. “And you have great hair.”
“I guess,” she said after several seconds, “I guess Mexican would be nice. If you promise I really do look ok.”
Percy understood, for the first time in his life, why some idiot during ancient times might proclaim his love more beautiful than a goddess. Percy wanted to say that Annabeth was more beautiful than Aphrodite, Athena, and Hera combined. But that kind of thing had gotten Andromeda in trouble. If Percy said something that stupid, if true, out-loud, their would be no Perseus to save anyone, this time.
Instead he said, “You could launch a thousand ships.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That was quite a line.”
“Doesn’t make it not true.”
She kissed him, instead of calling him out on being cheesy.
“Put your clothes back on,” She advised, but she ran her hand up the planes of his chest one last time “I’m going to go get ready.”
She wandered off to the bedroom, and he heard her rooting around in the closet for something, and then the water running in the bathroom sink while he shook his shirt right side out, and pulled his jeans back on. He was checking for any stray flour when he heard a little shirk.
“Annabeth?” He called, as she came running out of the bedroom. She’d put a light sweater over her tank top, covering her arms and shoulders, had hung a pair of large, silver owl earrings in her ears, and pulled on black boots that went up over her knees, so just a few inches of skin was visible below her skirt. She was holding a stick of eyeliner out, like a weapon.
“Look what you did,” She accused. It took him a second, but he saw it, between her sweater and her earrings, ringing her neck like a necklace, blooming red and purple, was a line of hickeys. Percy had noticed a few on his own chest, before he put his shirt back on. “I don’t know how to hide hickeys with short hair, Percy.”
Percy stared at her for several long minutes. Then his face broke out into a grin.
“Have I told you how much I love your new hair.”