Work Text:
prompt: i wish i’d never met you | percabeth
“Uugh. I wish I’d never met you.”
Annabeth’s sentence is punctuated by her huffing and groaning.
Percy even stops and turns off the vacuum cleaner, staring questioningly at his wife.
She’s lying down on the couch, legs up and wet towel on her forehead. The sunlight coming through the window makes her legs golden and, he could swear, she’s actually glowing. She’s beautiful, but that doesn’t stop his eyebrows from coming together in annoyance at the sound of those words.
“I’m sorry, what?” He finally manages to say.
Annabeth huffs again, and Percy’s sure she rolls her eyes before removing the towel from her face and looking at him.
“It’s a hundred degrees in here. I’m sweating like a pig. My head hurts. My feet are so swollen I bet they don’t fit in any of my shoes, or even in yours, for that matter, and I can’t even see them, since my belly’s the size of a balloon because of the human being growing inside of me. And really, this is all your fault. So yeah. I love you, Perseus Jackson, but right now I kind of wish I had never met you. Or at least that I had never let you put your stupid baby-maker dic-“
“Hey! No dirty talk around the baby,” he interrupts her, but, assuming by the look on her stormy eyes, maybe he shouldn’t have.
Well, it’s not his fault he cares for the baby enough not to want her cursing and talking about s-e-x.
She’s clearly not in a good mood today, though, and the last thing he wants is to get on her dark side. Not more than he already is, at least.
So, he’s been doing his best to be a good husband and soon-to-be dad. He’d made her breakfast with her favorite blue pancakes with blueberry and homemade cinnamon latte, which she had immediately rejected by saying it was too hot for having warm drinks. He’d let her monopolize the couch and the fan, and even given her a wet towel while he washed the dishes and cleaned the whole house, but apparently, it wasn’t enough.
Percy was loyal and patient and comprehensive, and really he would do anything for his wife. And he tried to make her happy and comfortable, since, as she liked to point out, he wasn’t the one carrying a soon-to-be 7 pounds baby inside him.
But well, right now, it was getting hard not to get a little upset.
“You know what they say, babies can hear what we say from inside the uterus,” he says, with a tiny smile, trying to lighten the mood. “We don’t want our daughter’s first words to be... You know, d-i-c-k.”
Annabeth closes her eyes and lets a short, almost inexistent laugh come from her throat.
Percy controls himself not to sigh in relief. Apparently he’s finally getting to normal conversation basis with his very pregnant wife, and he doesn’t want to ruin it.
Annabeth takes a deep breath and Percy puts the vacuum cleaner aside, sitting on the edge of the couch and leading one hand to her uncovered belly (sooner that morning, she had decided it was too hot to wear shirts, and “all her clothes made her uncomfortable anyway”, so her outfit for the day was a sports bra and sweat-shorts).
He starts tracing patterns on her stomach and she shoots her eyes open.
“Percy,” she calls.
“Hm?”
“I know I’m being mean-“
“What? You know I love it-“
“Don’t interrupt me,” the storm in her eyes is back and he kind of wishes he hadn’t said anything.
They stare at each other for a second before, against all reasonable bone in his body, he opens his mouth again.
“It’s sexy,” he mutters, getting another eye roll from her in return. “Sorry.”
“Ok. So I’m gonna be clear. I know I’m being mean, but really. It’s really hot and I feel inflated like that Harry Potter’s aunt, who he turns into a literal human balloon, and my whole body hurts. And really the mere sound of your voice- No, your breath. Simply hearing you breathe annoys the hell out of me right now. So please, please, just let me be alone for a while.”
He blinks once, twice, and then, finally, gets up and grabs the car keys, in silence. After putting his shoes on, he drops a kiss on her forehead and walks through the door.
He thinks about calling Grover to see if he’s around, but ends up driving around the city for a while. He tries not to get upset with Annabeth’s pregnancy moods, but sometimes it’s hard not to feel a little hurt. He knows it’s hard and uncomfortable for her, but, well, he’s trying his best.
After a while, he pulls over by the ice cream shop near their apartment, thinking she might appreciate it if he gets her some of her favorite chocolate-mint ice cream.
He asks for a gallon of Annabeth’s favorite flavor, and also a cup of tutti-frutti ice cream for him (what? It’s blue!). He doesn’t realize the little girl, maybe around 7 years old, standing by him until he’s grabbing his order and she looks at him with amusement.
“Is that all for yourself?” She asks.
He can’t help but looking at her surprised when he sees her blonde, curly hair and green eyes, and he thinks that, maybe, that’s how his daughter would look like in a few years. Or maybe not.
He smiles sweetly. “Oh, no. I’m taking it home for my wife and our baby.”
“Oh,” the girl says, sounding disappointed. “When I grow up, I’m gonna buy a whole gallon of ice cream all for myself, and no one’s gonna say I can’t.”
Percy laughs fondly, still with some strange feeling of resemblance between that girl and the daughter he haven’t even met yet.
“I’m sure you will. What’s your name?”
“Sophie. I’m not telling you my full name because you could be dangerous.”
Percy can’t seem to take his smile out of his face. “I can see you have good parents. Are they around?”
“Yup,” she shakes her head. “They’re over there paying and said I could already choose what flavor I want. Tutti-frutti is my favorite, but they say I’m getting too old for that,” Sophie pouts.
“Well, Sophie,” Percy leans down, as if he’s telling her a secret. “My wife has been telling me the same thing for almost 15 years now, but I don’t really believe her.”
He blinks and the gets up, showing her the blue ice cream he’s holding, saying goodbye briefly while walking out the door.
On the short ride home, he remembers some information about the name Sophie or, actually, Sophia, having something to do with the representation of wisdom in ancient Greece.
Suddenly, he thinks that’s a beautiful name, and he’s never been more sure of anything in his entire life. Except, maybe, marrying Annabeth.
“Wise Girl,” he says, excitedly, the minute he opens the door. “I think I have an idea.”
When he sees his wife, though, he loses his train of thought. She’s standing by the kitchen’s balcony, phone in hands and shocked look on her face, and there’s a pool of water on her feet, the liquid still running down her legs.
“Percy,” she gulps. “I think my water just broke.”
“Oh, shit,” he says, before leaving everything on the floor and running inside to try and get things done.
Between running around, and getting the maternity bag and more clothes and calling Sally and all the “we’re having a baby”s and “we have to go”s, they only stop to think once they’re sitting in the car, stopped at a red light.
“Percy,” Annabeth’s biting her lip. “We don’t even have a name.”
He risks a quick glance at her before realizing the sign has turned green, and smiles widely.
“What do you think about Sophia?”