Work Text:
She smells coffee. And then pancakes, and then freshly squeezed orange juice. And suddenly she's three days into a Indonesian island holiday and there's sun streaming through her windows and the sheets draped over her bared skin are cool and if she opens her eyes she'll be met with ruffling lace curtains and the sight of the ocean just over the deck.
Annabeth Chase wakes up to silence. To darkness. To New York plunged into winter as if Khione had taken her rage out on the city over night. Snow covers the concrete buildings, already turning sloppy and muddied with the trek of never ending people. She is nowhere near Indonesia, nor in a villa overlooking blue waters. She is in her grungy apartment in her more-mattress-than-bed bed and the single window in her bedroom looks out onto the brick of the building next to her. In short its just another Monday morning.
The disappointment that floods through her is breathtaking. She feels her life swallow her up, wrapping around her lungs and squeezing as if it had taken lessons from a python. Her fingers curl around the duvet pulled over her as she stares at the wall, at the pictures littering it. She takes a deep breath, another, another. Slowly the python loosens, her heart returns to it's normal rhythm.
Glancing at the small pink clock on her bedside table she almost groans as she sees the time. Three minutes till her alarm rings. Not enough to dive back into bed but enough to consider it anyway. She forces herself to get up, feeling the cool of the wood under her feet and traipses to the bathroom where she is met with tile, the sudden cold pulls a hiss from her.
With a zombied look in her eyes she goes about her morning routine: pee, teeth, shower, change, scrounge around in empty cupboards for something at least half edible, scarf another energy bar when nothing better makes itself known, and then finally pack her bag and make her way out. She can do it with her eyes closed by now, sometimes she even does.
Still as she steps into the biting air that comes with snow her body wakes up considerably. With a curse that middles Greek and English, she twists her scarf tighter around her neck and pulls her beanie over her ears. She decides she can spare a moment to go to her favourite coffee shop this morning just to throw down a hot drink that hopefully scorches her insides.
With a determined step she sets off to the subway, earbuds shoved into her ears blaring "do re mi" by blackbear. A violent song for this early in the morning but one she mumbles along to all the same.
The coffee shop, as she so lovingly calls it, is more like a caravan sized hole wedged between two skyscrapers. It fits maybe five people comfortably, ten if you're looking to be smothered. But the coffee is beyond magical and they have the most decadent blueberry muffins she's ever had the pleasure to eat. Besides her best friend works here and really if anyone can turn her from bruised-eyed zombie to semi-human it's Percy Jackson.
The door creaks as she steps through, announcing her presence. She's too busy basking in the warmth of the little hovel to worry about the greeting thrown her way.
"Gods it's cold out there." She sucks in a breath, feeling her lungs defrost.
"Yes," Percy grins, "I suppose someone pissed off Khione again."
She rolls her eyes, as her body collapses against the black marble counter. "Khione gets pissed off about everything that's hardly an excuse to give us all frostbite."
"I suggest you take that up with her, because I cannot see any of us coming out alive after that conversation."
"Just give me a coffee you menace," She scrunches her nose in distate, but cannot keep the playfulness out of her voice.
"Want a blueb?" He shakes a paper bag, something thumping inside. "On the house." The accompanying wink sets her cold skin on fire.
Her eyes narrow as she surveys him. His unruly black curls are kept back by three butterfly shaped clips, bright pink and probably Estelle's, and his skin browner— like dark roast coffee— from the weekend his family had taken in Spain three weeks before glows softly under the warm yellow light hanging above then. The black polo neck he wears under his "Holed Up" company t-shirt, makes his eyes look darker than normal. His jeans, faded blue, stand stark against the rest of his outfit. Even like this, in work appropriate clothes, he looks beautiful. Looks like the beginning of spring, and the happily ever after of stories, and the change of tides.
"What are you planning?" His look of incredulity almost makes her laugh.
"Why would you think I'm up to anything?"
"I've known you since we were twelve Jackson," She scoffs, as if his question is ridiculous in itself. "I know every face, every expression, every movement of your body. I know when you're up to something." She finishes off with a glare for good measure.
His green eyes are bright as he studies her, emotions warring across his face. To spill or not to spill. He pushes her coffee across the counter and she looks at him expectantly as she grabs the cup with both hands. Her numb fingers instantly start to sting with the sudden change in temperature.
"Fine." He sighs, looking at her through his lashes as if maybe be could get away with not telling her. She raises a brow. He curses under his breath and flops down on a chair hidden behind the counter.
"I need your help with something—"
Yes, of course, is on the tip of her tongue. She would do it. No hesitation. There's not much, not anything, she wouldn't do for him.
"But before you say no or worse get mad you have to hear me out." He finishes quickly. And then his eyes are big and pleading and she doesn't know if she wants to turn away or lean in closer, study that captivating green like it's the newest find in her paleontology class.
Instead she clears her throat, "What is it Percy?"
"I need you to be my fake girlfriend." He says it in one breath.
She almost asks him to repeat in case she hadn't heard right. But she knows she did. She knows she couldn't have heard anything else
He swallows. She blinks. He drops his head to his hands, a sigh already on his lips. She opens her mouth, snaps it shut.
"Okay I know it's...odd," He starts, "But I kind of got roped into going to a mixer with some people from my class and this one guy asked if we could go together but I don't really like him so I said no." Percy was rambling but she was too speechless to stop him. "But then he looked really hurt and I felt really bad so I kind of said I already had a partner which made him look less hurt but then Piper, the girl hosting the mixer, over heard me and said I should bring my partner along, since a few of them were bringing their partners, and you know I couldn't exactly back out of the lie after that so I said I would and well..." He gestures between them. "Then this happened."
Annabeth takes a sip of her coffee. And another, she downs almost half the cup before she has the ability to talk. "Why don't you just say your partner is sick on the day?"
It's her first question and instantly she wants to take it back. Because the flinch Percy tries to hide is enough to have her scrambling for a way to take back the words. Because it's not that she won't be Percy's (fake) partner, or even that she doesn't want to.
It's more that she doesnt know if she'll be able to draw the line between fake gestures and her very real feelings. Having a crush on someone for the better part of eight years tends to tug at her emotional side in a way that overules her logical one. Yes she can be Percy's fake girlfriend. No her heart won't believe the lopsided grin he gives her when he makes a bad joke will be 'just for show'. Yes she can hold hands with him and meet his friends. No she can't help the jump in her stomach as she sees the interlaced fingers.
"You don't have to." He says quietly. "I'll think of something." He waves it off, a small smile already finding its way onto his face. She knows, even without careful study, that it doesn't quite reach his eyes. She has to fix this.
"No." It comes out in a snap of rushed regret. "I will, I want to."
He looks at her, gaze wide, hesitant. "You do?"
She nods and then, as if the gesture isn't good enough stumbles through her words. "Yes, I want to." Her smile is shy, but the beam she's rewarded with nearly knocks her off her feet. "I think it'll be fun."
He scoffs at her, waving a hand. "Everything we do is fun. We're Percy and Annabeth."
And he says it's like there's no other way their names could be said. Like if someone says his hers must follow. Like if someone says hers his cannot possibly be far behind. He says it like they belong.
Her heart does a giddy sort of flip that spreads warmth through her chest and in her stomach, better than the coffee ever could.
"Okay Percy Jackson." She holds out her hand, to shake on. "Let's pretend to be madly in love."
With a wink, that causes her brain to explode, he takes her hand in his and turns it over before placing a delicate kiss on her knuckles.
She becomes the air itself. And as she floats to lectures she decides maybe it's not just another Monday. Maybe she did wake up in a paradise of sorts. Maybe life isn't so dull. She laughs to herself.
It can never be dull if Percy is there. It never has.