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Annabeth was dying. Dying. Dying. Dying.
Her hair was matted and uncomfortably clingy to her forehead, blonde curls soaked in soggy sweat. Her eyes were frantic, seeking a certain, kind man with sea green eyes and– and black hair. Black hair.
Where was he?
Her legs were shaky, and she let them lay haphazardly on the floor since she couldn't bear to even bend them from how achy they were. But it was an uncomfortable, seeping ache that persisted and she hated it, hated how even though her legs were resting, they would not stop screaming in pain.
She hated it. Hated hated hated it.
Her tank top felt too open, she felt too exposed to the point that she could feel the individual legs of the small nat that was crawling up her shoulder, but she didn't have the energy to even flick it off. She hated how her emotions directly proposed a conflict of interest with too many things.
She just wants Percy. Percy. Percy. Percy.
She was too aware of everything around her and that was annoying, because as a child of Athena, she was already aware of too much so this was only salt to a scarred wound.
But then, a warm breath is coating her face and she blinks her eyes open (when had they closed on her? Gods, did anything ever last?), only to find beautiful sea-green eyes staring back at her, concern coating those irises.
"Oh, baby, I'm so sorry I didn't come sooner."
Annabeth doesn't say anything and instead motions for Percy to come closer and give her a hug, since she could tell that he needed to know she was okay (hugs usually translated that pretty well).
But it was heartwarming to see Percy resisting the urge to touch her when she was in these states, since they only worsened her anxiety if she didn't know who it was (but those green eyes never failed her; never told her a lie).
So Percy gently touches her arms, brushing the continuously climbing nat off her shoulder now, and tightens his arms around her, burying his face in her blonde curls. He inhales deeply above her, as if breathing in her citrus scent whilst his six foot tall body desperately tries to wrap around her entirely would provide her with a safe haven.
She appreciates the gesture, and grips the back of his shirt with trembling hands, inhaling shakily. Her body shakes despite her anxiety rapidly descending at the feel, the touch of the sea at her fingertips. He smells just like the ocean, too, along with a pine tree cologne that soothes her worries and aches and gives her enough strength to bring her legs into his lap to bury even further into him.
He replies in kind, rubbing her back and drawing circles in her arms to loosen her grip on him so her arms wouldn't ache later from how tense she was.
And yet, if they both died right now, she wouldn't mind it so much. As long as she was within Percy's arms, that would be a kind death. An easy one to bear.
As long as Percy was here, Annabeth Chase wouldn't suffer. Not on his watch.