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Try as he might, Annabeth Chase’s boyfriend just cannot grow a beard.
It’s sort of noble. Noble in a completely delusional sense of the word, sure. It’s his determination that makes Annabeth grin. Him, standing in front of the bathroom mirror, scraping the pads of his fingers along his cheeks while he searches for any sign of growth in the patchy landscape. He’s jealous, that much is certain. Jason can grow a full beard in a week and the fact that he doesn’t seems to be a touchy subject to Percy. In comparison, it’s probably the equivalent to having a freshly bought, ludicrously expensive sports car and never taking it out of the garage. What’s the point of having it if it’s never going to be used!
“I think it’s thicker today,” he says to Annabeth, looking at her reflection leaning against the doorframe.
She makes a noise of agreement, mostly just to appease his fantasy, and bites her lip to stop herself from smiling.
Percy’s not a hairy guy, not much in the way of chest hair, not a whole lot on his legs either. Annabeth doesn’t mind though. She’d rather not date a guy who can take off his shirt and look like he’s wearing a sweater underneath. But it’s the concept of facial hair that grinds Percy’s gears. What is it with boys and beards? Honestly. A beard doesn’t make him any more of a man. And he is a man. He’s not a boy. He’s got enough to prove on that front and yet it’s not enough because he can’t grow a face carpet.
But she kinda likes the scruff. She likes that he’s not clean shaven. She likes that there’s not a whole bush of wiry hairs in her way either.
It’s so him : rugged, easy going, casual.
It defines him, defines his jawline. She likes the contrast it gives his features. It accentuates his cheekbones, his chin, - and again - that jawline . It’s so strong and sharp, she could cut her hand on it. She bites her lip again, not to keep from smiling, but to keep her passion in check.
“Don’t you think it looks thicker today?” he asks.
She apparently doesn’t answer quick enough and he turns to look at her, distractedly still rubbing his fingers across his five o’clock shadow. Can it still be called a five o’clock shadow after two weeks? “You’re laughing at me.”
“I’m not!” she says, clearly smiling. “You’re cute.”
“Does it look bad?”
“No!” she says while thinking the opposite.
He sees right through her and drops his hands to his sides, defeated. That’s her cue to move in. She slides her hand up his spine, slipping over his (and her) favorite t-shirt, and pulls him in towards her waist.
He’s pouting. He’s not really upset. Well, not too upset. He looks past her toward the mirror as she moves in and catches the smell of him when she laughs.
“It’s okay that you can’t grow a beard,” she says, kissing his jawline ever so slightly. His stubble prickles her lips, but she doesn’t mind. “I like you just the way you are.”
His cheek quirks when he smiles, she feels it under her lips, and she kisses all around his lack-of-beard, making loud smacks with each touch.
“Not everyone can have total jackpot genes like me, after all,” she says, laying on the sarcasm thick.
“Oh, is that how it’s going to be?” he says, his smile turning wily.
“What can I say? If I could, I’d be able to grow a beard as high as the Empire State Building.”
Percy smiles with his teeth and wrinkles his nose. “Now you’re asking for it.” He presses his stubbly beard into the sides of Annabeth’s cheeks, scraping his way across her skin. It’s like sandpaper, but it doesn’t hurt. And Annabeth squirms to get away, laughing, but Percy has her tight.
He doesn’t let her go until she’s had her fair share of revenge kisses.