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It started at camp, after Gaea had been defeated. They were there for a few weeks to help clean up, patch up campers, figure out relationships with their new, Roman cousins.
The Greek demigods invite their Roman pseudo siblings to join them at their tables for dinner, and give them all tours of the camp. Reyna is given Praetorship again, her actions forgiven in the face of her heroism. Things are going surprisingly well, and despite the gravity of what they had all faced, it’s the most relaxed everyone has felt in a long while.
Then night falls.
Percy wakes up, a scream in his throat, his hand fumbling for riptide instinctively before he realizes where he is.
His chest heaves as he tries to get enough air to clear his head and get the smell of Tartarus out of his nose. The light from the fountain his father gave him is comforting, but not enough. His skin itches, the walls are too close, the cabin too quiet...he needs to get out.
He decides to go to the lake. As he pulls on a sweatshirt, he feels something in the pocket and remembers that someone (one of the Demeter kids who’d taken up baking, he thinks) had given him a brownie earlier that day. He shrugs and quietly closes the door behind himself.
Sneaking past the harpies isn’t nearly as scary to Percy anymore, however, his heart does stutter a little when he realizes the docks at the lake aren’t vacant like he’d expected, his hand automatically reaching for the pen in his pocket. But then he recognizes the blonde princess curls.
“Hey,” he says, abandoning his flip flops and sitting down next to her, his toes almost touching the water.
“Hey.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“Me either.”
They fall silent.
There are moments that words don’t reach; luckily, they don’t need words. The brush of Annabeth’s shoulder tells Percy that he’s not alone. And when he puts his arm around her, she knows it means thank you and I’m here for you, too .
Wordlessly, he pulls out the brownie and offers her half as he holds her close, and the quiet moment stretches on for almost an infinity. Just the moon, a brownie, and two broken demigods.
***
Months later, Percy startles awake again, but it isn’t his own panic that’s awoken him this time. Annabeth’s hand thumps his chest as she moves sharply in bed, her eyes moving wildly under her closed eyelids.
They’re in Percy’s mom’s apartment now. After that tearful reunion, nobody was keen to be separated again that summer, and Sally was perfectly happy to let Percy and Annabeth share a bed with the promise of no funny business and an open door (much to Percy’s embarrassment).
Percy is especially grateful for that as he battles his own nightmares. Annabeth is the quickest way for him to calm down, and he is equally grateful that he can return the favor.
“Annabeth,” he calls, running a finger gently down her cheek. “Annabeth, wake up, wise girl. It’s just a dream.”
Although the nightmares aren’t getting any easier, coming back from them seems to be. She wakes up pretty quickly, and Percy holds her to him the way he knows she loves best.
“I can’t go back to sleep,” she whispers after a little while.
Percy hums. “Want to go raid the kitchen?” he suggests, remembering the brownie.
Annabeth nods after a moment, and slowly disentangles herself from his arms and the sheets, and they slip out of his room and into the small kitchen down the hall.
The soft light and the cold floor beneath her bare feet are strangely calming, and Annabeth lets out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. She leans against the counter and watches as Percy moves about the kitchen, cupboards opening and closing softly as he looks for something to eat. She lets herself be calmed by the sight of him, breathing, alive, and here. With her.
Percy finds the blue cookies his mom made earlier, and fills two glasses with milk to go with them. Annabeth smiles gratefully at him when he hands her her portion.
They sit together, quietly eating their midnight snack (well, 3 AM snack, according to the small clock on the microwave). Annabeth hums contentedly as the chocolate hits her tongue. Something about homemade chocolate chip cookies finds its way into her very soul and comforts even the farthest, darkest part.
And thus, a tradition is born. Nightmares mean brownies. Or cookies. Or cake. Whatever they can get their hands on, so long as it’s sweet. When they get married and buy their own apartment, they keep their kitchen well stocked with baked goodies and supplies to make whatever they’re in the mood for.
One morning, after a particularly rough night, Percy wakes up before Annabeth and sneaks out of the bed, careful not to disturb his wife.
Once in the kitchen, he pulls out the flour, eggs, blueberries, baking powder, everything he needs to make blueberry muffins, which had been Annabeth’s go to nightmare sweet for the last month.
Except this time as he beat the batter, he flicked his wrist stronger than he intended, and a poof of flour flies up and delicately coats his face.
Groaning and wiping the powder out of his eyes, Percy pushes on and ends up with a blue batter that tastes good, and carefully pours it into the muffin tins. Or most of it, at least. There are sticky blue globs on his cheek and definitely some in his hair, but it’s worth it for muffins!
Percy had planned to take breakfast to Annabeth, but as he cleans up, he feels a kiss on his cheek. He smiles, but it changes into a protest as Annabeth sticks her tongue out and licks some batter off his face.
“That’s gross, Annabeth!” he groans, but pulls her into a hug. “I was hoping to surprise you with breakfast in bed.”
“You’re sweet, Percy. Thank you. The batter tastes delicious, but are you sure you managed to get any in the oven?”
“Oh, ye of little faith,” Percy teases as he sneaks his hand into the bowl on the counter behind Annabeth’s back, and swipes some of the blue batter. With a grin, he wipes it onto Annabeth's nose.
She shrieks and jumps away, and pretty soon they’re chasing each other through their little apartment, yelling and laughing and making a general mess of everything. The promise of hot muffins and cold milk pull them from their antics, and they eventually make their way back to the kitchen, chests heaving slightly, breathless grins wide on their faces. Percy throws his arm around Annabeth’s shoulder and kisses her head. She sighs and leans into him, her brief spurt of energy fading as she allows Percy to lead her to the table.
They are quiet as they eat the muffins, and Annabeth’s eyes continue to droop as she lets out a yawn.
“Well, good thing it’s a Saturday. Why don’t you go shower, get the blue goop off of yourself, and we’ll spend a lazy day in bed.”
“No!” she says quickly, her eyes wide. She drops her eyes as she plays with the edge of the tablecloth, the flower one Percy’s mom had given them when they moved in together. “I just don’t want to go back to bed,” she finally says, her voice soft. Percy understands.
“Well, wise girl, how about we hang out in the living room instead?”
Annabeth nods at that, looking grateful.
While Annabeth showers, Percy gathers the softest blanket they own and Annabeth’s stuffed Owl, Archimedes. A stack of DVDs, and a pile of Annabeth’s favorite comfort foods are soon added as well.
When she emerges, Annabeth is wearing a soft pair of grey sweatpants and an even softer smile. “Looks perfect. You’re turn to use the shower. You’re not getting any blue goop on my owl!”
“You better not start without me!” Percy calls over his shoulder as he stands and heads toward the bathroom, dropping a kiss to her head as he passes.
When he returns, Annabeth is on the couch, her knees up against her chest, holding tightly to Archimedes. Percy joins her, and Annabeth squishes up against his side
“It was a combination,” she says after a few beats of silence. Percy doesn’t need to ask her what she’s talking about. “They kept going from Tartarus to Kronos to waking up and you being gone.”
Percy can feel her breathing hitch as she is thrust all over again into the worst moments of their lives.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and his heart aches when her shoulders begin to shake, and he can’t say or do more to help. It wouldn’t make a difference. So, he just squeezes her closer, and she comes willingly, unfurling a little and shifting so she’s practically sitting in his lap.
“Percy, I’m so tired,” she says, her voice thick with tears.
There really are no words, so Percy tightens his hold, willing the love that he has for her and the peace he wishes he could give her to wrap around her heart and calm her down. Slowly, slowly, slowly, her shoulders still and he can feel her breaths come more even. He doesn’t let go until she sits up slightly, her eyes and cheeks red.
Percy gestures to the pile of movies to distract her. “It’s your turn to pick.”
Annabeth decides on Lady and the Tramp, and they snuggle in to watch the movie. She digs into the Reece’s Percy added from the stash he knows she keeps in the nightstand (she hoards them like they’re ambrosia) and the two relax into each other, the soft light from the TV and the sweet music creating a bubble of temporary peace that neither of them want to leave.
It isn’t perfect. There will still be many days with nightmares and tears, but they know that they will always have each other and their nightmare dessert tradition to make it a little sweeter.