Archive of Our Own

By now, Annabeth was used to waking up to the blue-ish walls of Percy’s room. It had happened enough times that it felt more cozy then it felt weird. She was used to his soft sheets and pillow beneath and around her. She had seen and felt them enough to know which were her favorite and not to feel overwhelmed by the bed cover that somehow resembled the sea. Still, she always had to fight the urge to gasp when she woke up and felt Percy’s hand resting on her hip. It didn’t matter how many times it happened, it didn’t even matter that every time she slept with him she knew this would happen the next morning. It always startled her and even scared her a bit. Not because of the act itself, but because it was so simple and yet so much. It invaded her personal space in a delicate and unconscious way and she should feel weird about it, because Annabeth was weird about her personal space. But she didn’t. She felt cherished and… home.

She always made sure she fell asleep with her back turned to him and some space between them in bed. She didn’t like to cuddle, and he didn’t mind. He usually slept facing the ceiling, one arm tucked beneath his head. It was reckless and chill, but she knew it was because he always fell in a contemplative line of thought before falling asleep. But somehow, every time, his hand ended up finding support on Annabeth’s hip (or her waist, her ribs, her thigh…) and waking up there in the morning.

The thing is, Annabeth loves it. And that’s what scares her the most.

She’d promised herself she wouldn’t fall in love with him the moment she’d met him in the elevator of the building they both worked at. She’d told herself it was just sex the first time they went back to his apartment. She repeated in her head that she wasn’t going to think much about how beautiful his eyes were and how caring he was since the first time they went to grab ice cream on the shop near his place. She promised she wouldn’t get involved, and here she was.

Sighing, she rolls slowly to her left, not to wake him up, and gets up, fishing her underwear on the floor and putting it on. She opens up the wardrobe and grabs a sweatshirt, making her way out of the room and confirming that Percy’s roommate, Grover, isn’t home.

She’s already brewed some coffee when Percy shows up and greets her. “Good morning.” “Hey,” she finishes pouring her coffee and turns around. “Sleep well?”

He raises his eyebrows at the sight of her wearing his clothes. “Yeah. You?”

She nods and takes a sip of the coffee. “I made coffee,” she announces.

“I see that,” he replies, as he makes his way around the counter and grabs a mug for himself in the cabinet, pouring some of the dark liquid for himself. When he starts making his way towards the fridge, she’s already closing its door and offering him cream.

“Thanks.”

He doesn’t ask her if she wants some. He knows she doesn’t, the same way she knew he did. They don’t say it, but the knowledge of how they take their coffee is only a small part of all the information about each other they have registered.

She leans against the counter and they face each other, sipping their coffees in silence. He’s wearing sweatpants only, and she notices him shivering slightly with the autumn wind.

“Nice outfit,” he finally speaks.

“Oh,” she blushes slightly. “I hope you don’t mind. I just didn’t feel like wearing jeans and I couldn’t find your shirt.”

It wasn’t the first time she wore his clothes. But she’d never allowed herself to be comfortable enough to open his wardrobe and find something for herself. This morning, she hadn’t even noticed it. It was natural and automatic.

“It’s fine,” he grins. “It’s sexy, really.”

Her eyes drift to the ground and she feels the heat in her face.

Suddenly, he clears his throat. “I just thought- Um, I thought maybe you could keep some clothes around here. You know, so you don’t have to wear mine all the time. Not that I mind, it’s just…”

He trails off and she freezes. What is he saying?

“Keep some… clothes here?”

She turns her head up to face him, slowly. He nods carefully.

“Well, you don’t have to… It was just a thought.”

She stares at him, gathering up the courage to say what she has to.

“I think I’m in love with you. And I’m terrified,” she blurts out.

He looks at her, mouth slightly opened, for what feels like hours.

Finally, he frowns and takes a step closer. “What are you terrified of?”

“I don’t know,” she puts her mug on the counter and crosses her arms protectively on her chest, deviating her look. “Everything.”

He lets his head fall slightly to one side, facing her, and she sighs.

“I’m scared that you don’t feel the same,” she says. “And terrified that you do. That you make promises you can’t keep and that you let me down. That I’m not what you expected and you give up. That I let you take me so high that the pain is just too much for me to bear when you let me go.”

He turns her head to face him gently before uncrossing her arms and taking her hands on his. “What if I don’t make any promises I can’t keep?”

“That’s a promise by itself.”

“Then, I’ll make only one. Let’s not… Take each other places. Let’s just go together. Slowly. If you want to stop, you tell me. If I do, I tell you. We’ll figure out the rest as it comes. No promises made.”

“You promise?”

He rolls his eyes and shoves her slightly, playfully, and they stay silent for a while.

“Okay,” she says finally, reaching out to pull his head down, and their lips brush as she continues. “I’ll bring some clothes here.”

When he holds her waist, she pulls his neck and lets a hand wander down his chest as they kiss, but the truth is they can’t do it properly because they’re too busy smiling. So they pull apart rather quickly, but keep their hands on each other and their foreheads touching.

“I think I’m in love with you, too,” he whispers.

Her heart skips a beat and she notices that this, at least, wasn’t a promise. And that makes her love him a little more.