Archive of Our Own

It’s totally normal for friends to hang out one on one right? There’s nothing weird about that. Friends can hang out one-on-one without it being a date. No matter what my mom says.

“Hey, uh, mom?” I remembered saying over dinner last week.

“More pasta?” She asked, already scooping some onto my plate.

“Uh…well, yeah actually, thanks.” She gave some to Paul, too (he was over a lot these days). He smiled gratefully, a sickeningly sweet, adoring kind of smile which my mom returned tenfold.

I cleared my throat, trying not to gag. “Um, but also…Annabeth is gonna be in the city next week,” she brightened even more when she heard Annabeth’s name. “We’re going to hang out after my orientation, so I won’t need a ride home.”

“Oh how wonderful!” She beamed. “Is she coming with friends?”

“Er…no, just her.”

“I see,” she had that glint in her eye that made me want to jump out a window. “So it’ll be just the two of you?”

My face flamed. “I mean…yeah, I guess.”

She didn’t say anything, just pressed her lips together in a restrained grin that was somehow worse than her teasing.

“Annabeth,” Paul said, tapping his chin with a fork, leaving behind a smear of spaghetti sauce. “She’s that girl from your camp, right? The one you always talk about?”

“Yes, that’s right,” my mom said, handing him a napkin.

“I do not always talk about her,” I grumbled.

My mom had that annoying look on her face again as she exchanged looks with Paul. My face got, if possible, even redder.

Those next few days were packed with references to my ‘date’ with Annabeth. (“It’s not a date!” I said every time.) But the closer it got, the more I wondered. Did Annabeth see it as a date? I didn’t mean for it to be, but it did kind of sound like it. Just the two of us, meeting up, going to the movies…what if that is what she thought?

Would that be the worst thing? Part of me questioned.

Yes, it would! I fired back. Of course she didn’t think of it like that, or she never would’ve agreed to come. Besides, as far as I knew, she still harbored a crush on Luke Castellan.

The thought sent a strange pulse of anger through me, but I decided not to dwell on it. The rest of the week I spent determinedly pushing those thoughts aside every time they came up, which was, annoyingly, quite a lot.

Anyway.

Fast forward to orientation. Annabeth and I agreed to meet outside Goode High at 3:00, assuming nothing went earth-shatteringly wrong and one of us was delayed which, unfortunately, was not unlikely. Thankfully, the only near-death experience at orientation was listening to the marching band stumble their way through the school anthem.

After what seemed like years, orientation was over. Paul caught me amid the stampede of students and pulled me aside.

“Um…hey, Paul.” I said, dreading what was coming.

“I just wanted to say good luck on your—” I fixed him with a piercing glare, and he changed course. “I mean, have fun today!”

I thanked him hastily, scooting away.

“You have nothing to be nervous about, you’re gonna do great!” He assured me.

“Okay,” I edged a little further down the stairs.

“Just be yourself, and you’ll—"

“Okay!” I interrupted. “Thanks, Paul—er, Mr. Blofis—gotta go now!”

I turned and pelted down the stairs.

I’d completely forgotten about the plan to meet outside the school until I sprinted blindly down the stairs, swung around the railing, and straight into Annabeth.

“Hey!” She said, catching my shoulders before I plowed her over. She was smiling though, so she couldn’t really have been upset. She looked really pretty, in her flannel and Camp Half-Blood t-shirt, hair pulled into its usual curly ponytail. Her grey eyes were bright with laughter.

“Annabeth!” I sputtered, trying to regain composure.

“Someone’s in a rush,” she said. “Running away, are we?”

“What? No.”

She laughed again, only then did I realize she was kidding.

I cleared my throat and tried to pull myself together. “Um, anyway. You wanna…I mean, you ready to go?”

She made a sweeping gesture. “Lead the way.”

I caught a glimpse of Goode High School’s open door, and Paul leaning against the frame, a huge smile on his face. I waved my hand in a Cut it out! gesture, but Annabeth caught me.

“Who’s that?” She asked as we walked past.

“Uh, that’s Paul Blofis. My mom’s boyfriend.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s mentioned him before.” That was news to me. When had my mom talked with Annabeth? The thought made anxious bubbles form in my chest.

“He works at the school?” She continued, oblivious to my plight.

“Yeah. He’s teaches English.”

“That’ll be kind of strange for you,” she commented. “Having him as your teacher.”

“I guess,” I said. “Haven’t really thought about it.”

We walked a couple blocks in silence. For some reason, my anxious nerves refused to fade. What’s wrong with me? I’ve never had a problem talking with Annabeth before. Must be because we’re not at camp, or because we haven’t seen each other in a while.

“So, how was orientation?” She asked as we jogged across an intersection. A couple cabs honked and swore in irritation.

“I mean, it was school. How exciting can it get?”

“Speak for yourself.”

I grinned. I’d almost forgotten how much of a nerd Annabeth was. How she could actually enjoy school was beyond me.

“What about you, Wise Girl? How’s camp been? Any new campers?”

“A couple. One just got claimed last night, actually. Ares.”

“Great,” I said. “Just what we need, more kids joining Clarisse’s gang. Any new Poseidon kids?”

“Ha, you wish.”

We kept up the conversation the rest of the walk. This was better, back in our usual banter, sticking to familiar topics. It almost made me forget how anxious I’d been just minutes before. We walked until the sun was no longer visible between the buildings, stopping once for a soda and once to look at a Hercules impersonator advertising for some show coming next week. I guided us toward the general direction of the theater as we’d discussed, but I was so busy laughing at her most recent capture-the-flag story we almost walked right passed it.

“Oh, hold up! We’re here,” I said, wheeling around and nearly crashing into her again. 

“Wow, nice one, Seaweed Brain.”

“Oh, shut up, Wise Girl.” I gave her a crooked smile as I held open the door.

“Such a gentleman,” she patted me on the cheek (which I dodged) and traipsed inside.

“So, what is it we’re watching again?” Annabeth asked, staring up at the dozens of movie posters while we waited to buy tickets.

“The Dark Knight,” I said, patting my pockets to confirm, yes, my wallet was still in there. “Unless there’s something else you’d rather see.”

“No, no this sounds fine. I’ve actually been wanting to see it.” We moved up to the counter.

“Hello, how’re you doin’ tonight?” Said the lady at the counter. She was maybe twenty, with braids so long they could have gotten caught in her belt.

“We’re good, thanks.” Annabeth smiled. “Two for The Dark Knight, please.”

“Yeah, sure!” She said, tapping the computer screen. “That’ll be $15.60.”

Annabeth rummaged in her backpack, and I practically tore my wallet in half trying to beat her to it. She saw the cash in my hand and looked surprised. “You don’t have to—”

“No, no, it’s alright, I got it.” I said, handing a few bills to the box office worker. The box officer?

The second the cash left my hand, though, I started to panic again. Paying for her ticket…that was something a boyfriend would do. I snuck a look at her out of the corner of my eye. She was still gazing around at the movie posters, looking perfectly at ease. Okay…maybe she thought nothing of it, then. Took it as a friendly gesture from her friend she hadn’t seen in a while. It was fine.

My heartbeat still sounded really loud, though. The lady handed me back the change with a friendly “Enjoy the show!” I thanked her mechanically.

“Thanks,” Annabeth told me.

“Sure, no problem.”

A beat of silence, then she grinned sideways at me as if sensing my discomfort. “You bought the tickets, I’ll buy the popcorn, okay?”

“Okay,” I agreed, relief flooding over me.

She bought a large so we could share, plus a couple sodas. “Come on, let’s go find our seats.”

The theater was mostly empty; a group of teenagers near the front, a few couples dotted here and there. We chose a place off to the side so no one would bother us.

“I can’t remember the last time I’ve been to a movie,” Annabeth said, munching on a piece of popcorn while the previews played.

“Yeah,” I said, grabbing a handful from the bucket between us. “My mom took me to see Quest for Camelot when I was a kid.”

She glanced at me sideways. “Camelot? As in, Arthur of the round table?”

“I think so. Though I don’t remember Arthur being in it much.”

“It’s about King Arthur but he wasn’t even in it?”

“No, he was definitely in it,” I racked my brain trying to recall. “I don’t remember. I think I liked it though, we’ll have to watch that one next time.”

I hadn’t meant to say that. It just slipped out. And what was worse, she seemed to notice too. She stared at me a second too long, then hastily took a sip of her Coke.

I did the same, cursing myself. Why did I always say things without thinking?

I cleared my throat. “Um, what about you? What’s the last movie you saw?”

“In the theater? Oh, I don’t even remember. It was with my dad, I think, when I was really little.”

I nodded, but she wasn’t looking at me. I knew better than to interrupt when she was thinking about her family. They had a rocky history, but they seemed to be getting better recently.

“Have you heard from them at all?” I asked eventually.

“Actually yeah,” she paused for a sip of Coke. “They’re coming to Jersey soon for some history convention thing, I don’t know but my dad’s really excited about it. Anyway, he says he wants to take me. Honestly, I’m not all that interested in that sort of thing, but I think my dad assumes that anything to do with brains or history is the most fascinating thing on earth to me…”

“Isn’t it?”

“But he’s trying,” she said, ignoring my comment. “And for right now that’s…that’s cool with me.”

She tried to sound casual, but I could see the glow in her eyes, the smile threatening to tip the corners of her mouth.

I made to respond, but at that moment the theater darkened and Annabeth put a hand on my arm. “Shh! It’s starting!”

Just as well. The second she touched me, any snippet of coherent thought flew from my mind. It took me a good half hour before I regained control and was able to actually watch the movie, and by then I was completely lost.

What is wrong with you? I scolded myself. Pull it together, Jackson.

Throughout the movie, I found myself staring at the armrest. Or rather, the hand on the armrest. Every so often she’d move to get another piece of popcorn and I’d snap my attention back to the screen, but eventually my gaze would wander back to her hand.

I didn’t have any idea what was even going on in the movie at this point. Something about a weird clown guy causing a bunch of explosions and a guy in a suit delivering dramatic speeches my ADHD mind had trouble focusing on.

Yet again, my eyes were drawn back to her hand laying between us. The popcorn was long gone, so there was no reason to move it anymore. It was just…laying there, looking unfairly pretty. I mean, it was just her hand. Faint scars crisscrossing the back, nails impressively clean and shiny looking. I looked at my own hands self-consciously. My nails were bitten down to the quick, and yet I still managed to get dirt crammed so deep it might never come out. Annabeth’s hands just looked so soft compared to mine. I was seized with a sudden urge to grab it, an impulse stemmed only by my own terror.

You could, whispered a voice in my head, eerily similar to my mom’s. What’s the worst that could happen?

My thoughts were interrupted by a giant explosion on screen, causing the entire theater to flinch. Even me, who hadn’t even been paying attention. Annabeth looked over with a smile in spite of herself, who was not as immune to the theatric ploys as she pretended to be.

“You’d think after all those quests this kind of thing wouldn’t scare me so much,” she whispered so close to my ear I could feel her breath.

“Y—yeah,” I huffed a laugh. I was glad it was dark in here so she couldn’t see me blushing.

Her hand still hadn’t moved. Should I go for it? The movie was practically over. If I waited much longer, it would just be weird. Just do it, Percy. Do it, do it, do it…

But what then? Would she be weirded out? Pull away? Or, gods forbid, laugh? Or what if she expected something else entirely, like kiss her or something?

The mental war raged so loud and long in my head that the movie ended before I could make up my mind. Disappointment fell as the lights rose. People started getting out of their seats, brushing stray kernels from their clothes, and chatting excitedly about the film.

Annabeth stood up and stretched, her shirt rising just a little above her waistband. I snapped my gaze away and stared determinedly at anything else.

I got to my feet too.

“Well, what did you think?” She asked, following me out of the theater.

“Hmm? Oh, it was…er, good.” I said, not wanting to commit too strongly one way or another, in case I missed the obvious indications of an incredibly good or incredibly bad film. “You?”

“Yeah, I kind of liked it,” she said thoughtfully, then launched into a full, detailed analysis of the social commentary and exploitation and corruption and a bunch of other fancy terms I only half understood.

“What?” She asked after a while.

“Huh?” I asked.

“You’re looking at me weird.”

Was I? I trained my eyes back on the pavement and tried to kill the smile that was probably creeping her out. I hadn’t meant to stare, but sometimes she went on these rants that even if I didn’t totally understand them were just so…cute.

“Sorry,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets.

“’s okay,” she laughed, nudging me with her elbow. “So, where are we going now?”

“Oh,” I realized we hadn’t actually planned anything after the movie. I’d led us practically all the way home without even realizing it. “Er, my apartment is right up this way.” I pointed. “Sorry, I didn’t really…do you have to leave?” Hopefully she couldn’t hear the disappointment in my voice.

She just shrugged. “Not necessarily. Not much going on at camp these days, so it doesn’t really matter if I miss something.” She tossed a sly grin my way. “Besides, I’ve never actually been to your place before. If you think I’m missing that opportunity, you’ve got another thing coming.”

We were only a couple blocks away, so it was a matter of minutes before I creaked open the gate guarding the entryway and led her inside. A quick ride up the elevator and we were there.

“So, uh, here it is,” I said, digging the key from my pocket. “My mom doesn’t know you’re coming, so just be prepared.”

“Prepared for what?” She said while I opened the door and flicked on the light.

“Annabeth!”

My mom leapt up from the couch, abandoning her book without thought of a bookmark and swept her up in a giant hug. “Oh, it’s so good to see you, dear!”

“It’s good to see you too, Ms. Jackson.” Annabeth met my gaze overtop my mom’s head. I gestured helplessly with a wide grin as if to say I tried to warn you.

“Come in, come in!” My mom said, tugging her inside and practically wrestling her into a seat. “Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?”

“No, thanks, we had popcorn at the movie,” she patted her stomach.

“I’ll put out a little something just in case you get hungry later.” She said, rushing to the kitchen to fix a plate of blue cookies, pulling her hair into a clip as she went, a few strands left out and dangling in her eyes. “You are staying, right?” She called loud enough for us to hear.

“Just for a bit!” Annabeth replied, barely restraining a laugh. “I wanted to see the Jackson residence.”

She emerged with a stack of at least a dozen cookies. “Well, I apologize preemptively for the state of Percy’s room,” I felt my face flush. “I would have had him clean it if I knew you’d be coming over.”

“It’s alright, I don’t mind,” Annabeth said with a broad grin, accepting the cookie my mom was about two seconds from forcing down her throat. “My room’s usually a mess, too.”

That was surprisingly true. But while my messes usually consisted of candy wrappers and sneakers, hers was almost entirely made up of papers, books, and blueprints. Her bunk at camp was always nicely made (for cabin inspection), but her desk and work areas were always trashed.

“Honestly, you’d think I’d be better prepared. Everyone warned me that teenage boys are messy and eat like horses. I should’ve listened. I can’t even tell you how many chip bags I’ve found under his bed.”

“Mom,” I said, giving her my best ‘I love you but please stop’ look.

She held her hands up in surrender. “I digress. But tell me, Annabeth, how are you? How’s school? Percy’s told me quite a bit, of course, but I want to hear it from you.”

“Mom.” I muttered. Great, now my ears were red too.

“I’m really good, Ms. Jackson,” Annabeth said, eyes twinkling. Mom shot out questions in rapid fire and Annabeth took them all in stride. Honestly, I was surprised she didn’t topple over from the force of the questioning. I sat in tense silence for as long as I could bear, hoping neither one said anything embarrassing.

“…oh, how wonderful! I’m so glad to hear that, you know, I wonder if the next time you were in town you all could—”

“Mom, you’re smothering her.” I said eventually.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop.” She tutted. “I’ll let you two get back to your—” I cut her off with a desperate look. “Er, I’ll let you two catch up some more. Annabeth, you’re staying the night, yes?”

“No, no.” She said, waving dismissively. “I should probably get back to camp tonight.”

“How are you getting there?” She asked skeptically.

“The train,” she said.

“The train!” Mom said, aghast.

“Or…or the Gray Sisters cab.” Annabeth said, clearly alarmed.

“At this hour?” She cast a glance outside, at the near black sky. “Why don’t you just stay here for the night? We have plenty of room. Then you can head out in the morning.”

“Oh, I really couldn’t impose,” Annabeth said hastily.

“Nonsense! I’d feel much better knowing you weren’t out there on your own in the middle of the night. Not that I don’t know you can take care of yourself,” she conceded. “But even so. Percy can take the couch, and I’ll get some fresh sheets for the bed.”

“Well,” Annabeth looked at me for confirmation and I shrugged in a way that I hoped said, Sure, if you want to.

“Alright, then,” she said. “If you’re sure it’s not a problem.”

“Not at all! It’s always a treat seeing you.” She smiled warmly, then was off down the hall collecting sheets and towels from the linen closet and barking commands as she went. “Percy, make the bed while I get Annabeth some pajamas. I think I have an extra toothbrush, too…”

I shot an apologetic look at Annabeth and hastened to obey rather than risk the wrath of my mother.

What my mom said earlier wasn’t exactly wrong. My room was a mess, and I wished I’d thought to clean it earlier. Tearing off the blankets and sheets, I remade it quickly with clean sheets (blue and green striped from when I was nine years old; mortifying, but not as bad as the Star Wars ones) and sped around the room, shoving things under the bed and trying to make everything look…not clean, exactly, we were well beyond that, but at least presentable.

I’d just finished cramming the last of my laundry into the closet when the door creaked and Annabeth peeked her head inside.

“Can I come in?” She asked timidly.

“Sure,” I scampered to my feet and cast one last glance around hoping I didn’t leave any underwear lying around.

She looked uncertain, standing there in the doorway. She had on a pair of my mom’s red checkered pajama pants and one of my old t-shirts that was about three sizes too big on her. I tried not to blush at the thought that she was wearing my clothes. Her hair was freed from its usual ponytail, swept effortlessly over one shoulder with a few strands stuck under the collar. In a word, she looked adorable. Not a word I ever thought I’d use to describe Annabeth, but in this case, it was appropriate.

I watched her take in the room—my Goode high school gear tossed carelessly on the chair, the busted up skateboards hanging on the wall, the couple of photos I had tacked up by the bed. I found myself getting self-conscious. I’d never had a girl in my house before, much less in my bedroom. Except my mom, and that didn’t count. I found myself worrying about what she thought. Was she grossed out? Did it smell weird?

“So this is your room,” she commented, stepping inside.

“Yep.” I anxiously awaited her verdict.

“It’s nice,” she said, nodding approvingly. “It’s very…you.”

“Er, thanks?” I said. That was a compliment, right?

“I didn’t know you skateboarded.” She ran a finger along one of the boards which had been badly vandalized by my 11-year-old self.

“Yeah,” I rubbed the back of my neck. “There’s a rink a few blocks from here, usually it’s not too busy if you know when to go. I don’t go so much these days, but when I get the chance, I…yeah.” I finished lamely.

“You’ll have to teach me sometime.” She said, making my heart skip. I tried to imagine it: her, wobbly and unsure on the board, grabbing my shoulder for stability, me offering encouragement, maybe putting a stabilizing arm around her waist. The image was fuzzy, though; it was hard to imagine myself being as bold as I wanted to be, and it was almost impossible to imagine Annabeth being bad at anything.

“D—definitely,” I said instead.

She nodded awkwardly, looking around my room some more. I grasped for something—anything—to say, but luckily my mom chose that moment to interrupt.

“Knock knock?” She said, poking her head inside.

“Hi, Ms. Jackson,” Annabeth said.

“Oh, good, the pajamas fit alright,” she said with a smile.

“Yeah they do, thanks,” she said.

“Here’s a toothbrush,” she handed over a yellow sparkly one still in the packaging. “Toothpaste is by the sink. I also set out a clean towel for you, there’s shampoo and conditioner in the shower if you need it.”

“Thanks, Ms. Jackson,” she said, accepting the toothbrush as if it were a laurel wreath. “I really appreciate you letting me stay here.”

“Nonsense! It’s our pleasure.” She smiled and patted Annabeth’s cheek.

She clapped her hands. “Well! I’m off to bed. Percy, I set out a blanket and a couple pillows for you on the couch.” She told me.

“Thanks, mom.” I said.

“Did you change the sheets?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you, sweetie.” She gave me a quick hug but thankfully didn’t kiss my cheek the way she usually did.

“Annabeth, if you need anything else, Percy can help you.”

“Alright,” she said. “Thanks, Ms. Jackson.”

“No problem sweetie. I always love getting to see you.” She offered one last smile and her footsteps disappeared down the hallway.

“Your mom is so nice,” Annabeth said wistfully. I wondered if she was thinking of her own parents.

“Yeah, she is.” I traced the toe of my sock along a line in the carpet.

“I called Chiron,” she said. “You know, to let him know I wouldn’t be back at camp tonight.”

“Okay. Good.”

“This is—is this okay? With you?” She said, sounding uncharacteristically self-conscious. She had a faint flush on her cheeks. “Me staying here, I mean?”

“Yeah,” I told her quickly. “Totally fine.”

She didn’t look totally reassured, so I continued. “Anyway, my mom would have tied you to a chair sooner than let you go out on your own.”

She laughed, finally appearing to relax. “You’re probably right about that. I wouldn’t put it past her.”

Another silence descended. “Well…I guess I should…” I trailed off.

“Yeah,” she said suddenly. “Me too.”

“Um, bathroom’s down the hall. Feel free to shower or whatever. Do you, er, need anything else?”

“I’m good.” She offered a small smile. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Halfway through the doorway, I stopped and turned back around before I could lose my nerve. “I don’t know what time you have to go tomorrow, but if you wanted to hang around for breakfast, that would be…er, you could stay. If you want. We usually make blu—er, pancakes on the weekends.” I stammered.

Her lips quirked up in a soft smile. “A true Jackson breakfast? How could I refuse?” Her smile turned teasing. “Although, before I commit to anything, who’s going to be cooking: you or your mom? Because if it’s you, then I think I’ll politely decline but if it’s your mom—”

“Hey, I’ll have you know I actually make pretty good pancakes.”

“Well, I guess I’ll have to see for myself.”

I grinned at her. A funny feeling glowed in my chest when I looked at her. But I didn’t dwell on it. I just said goodnight and made my way to the worn couch where I’d accidentally fallen asleep many times before. This time, though, I was surprised that sleep eluded me until the sun was well on its way to a reappearance. My thoughts kept me up, swirling with a bubbly joy I’d rarely experienced before. It wasn’t as if anything monumental had happened—just hung out with a friend—but the extreme rightness of the day was making my heart run laps around my ribcage. And when I finally did fall asleep, a small smile still lingered.

Annabeth

I awoke to sunrays piercing my eyelids at an unfamiliar angle. That was strange…there were so many bunks and shelves in the Athena cabin that the inside was barely acquainted with sunlight. And the way it was positioned would’ve meant I was laying at the foot of my bed. Had I fallen asleep reading again?

I cracked open my eyes and allowed them to adjust to the sudden change. Blinking groggily, I took a moment that I wasn’t in the Athena cabin at all. It took me another moment still to remember I was at the Jackson’s apartment. In Percy’s room. In his bed.

The thought startled me so badly I almost leapt up right then and there, but no, I was a guest, they invited me to stay, I was supposed to be here. But the thought of being in Percy’s bed, even though he wasn’t even in the room, made me fidget.

I’d had a crush on Percy for a while now. I’d only had a couple crushes in my life, yet I’d never gotten the chance to see this side of any of them before. This was the most of Percy’s life I’d ever seen, the most of basically anyone’s life I’d ever seen. Camp was great and all, and you could really get to know someone after risking your life alongside them daily, but this type of mundane-ness was a rarity at camp. And since I’d been basically raised there, I hardly ever got to see my friends outside that corner of the world.

I tried to make myself relax, allow wakefulness to come to me slowly like my favorite mornings back in California, when my dad’s singing would wake me up and I’d come downstairs to the smell of coffee and eggs and toast. We’d share breakfast together, often reading our respective books, then he’d ruffle my hair and go off to work. It was the simple moments I liked best with my dad. Just living daily life together.

I snuggled back under the covers and in so doing caught of whiff of the pillow smashed under my nose. It smelled good; fresh and clean and natural, very much like the seaside. So much like Percy, I couldn’t help blushing.

A crash from deeper in the apartment had me reaching for my knife. Was there a monster in the house? Had they been drawn to the scent of two powerful demigods in one place?

Flinging off the covers, I slipped out the door. Down the hall, there were voices—two of them, one male, one female. It must be Percy and his mom. They were whispering—maybe devising a plan? My heart was pounding. How could I have let this happen? Two demigods in one place for so long, I should’ve known!

Before I could burst around the corner, knife drawn, I caught a snippet of the conversation being had in the kitchen.

“—won’t be much longer if you keep this up, mister.” Said a woman’s voice.

“I didn’t drop it on purpose!” came an indignant response.

I peeked around the corner. There, facing away from me with a big silver mixing bowl just barely visible, was Percy and his mom. They seemed to be cooking something…what had Percy promised? Pancakes?

Duh, I told myself, relief flooding over me. Not every little sound means a monster attack you idiot.

“Remind me to pick up some batteries today,” Ms. Jackson was saying. “The smoke alarm was beeping the other night, did you hear it?”

“I switched them out yesterday.” Percy said, intently focused on mixing his concoction. “I found a couple extras in the drawer.”

“Oh, thank you sweetie, you’re an angel.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze. “It was driving me crazy, but I just did not have time to take a look!”

Ms. Jackson rapped two eggs on the side of the bowl and Percy started mixing them without missing a beat.

I was going to turn around and go back to the room, but something about the scene made me linger. It was so…domestic. Normal. Natural. They way Percy didn’t even stop stirring when his mom added the measures of ingredients, or the gentle touch of an arm to warn about the steadily heating stovetop, the way their conversation never really stopped even when they stopped speaking.

This…this was a family. Small and fractured, sure, but more real than any family I’d ever seen. I had familial like relationships with some friends at camp and yeah, things were getting better with my dad, but it was nothing compared to the deep, undeniable trust Percy and his mom shared.

Ms. Jackson added a couple cups of flour and Percy started stirring it with perhaps a little too aggressively. A great plume of flour erupted from the bowl, settling across his hair, face, and chest.

He started coughing, hurriedly setting the bowl down, while Ms. Jackson laughed. She started wiping the flour out of his eyes and hair.

“You alright?” A still laughing mother said to her still coughing son.

“Yeah,” he brushed off his shirt. “I’m just glad—”

“Annabeth!”

Dang it, she thought.

I’d been caught. Ms. Jackson looked delighted, and Percy looked mortified. His face went bright red, obvious even through the layer of flour.

“Did we wake you?” She asked, concerned. “I’m so sorry, we tried to be quiet, but Percy here dropped the skillet—”

“I didn’t mean to!” He protested, swiping madly at his face now.

“That’s okay,” I grinned, my voice sounding a little hoarse like it always was in the morning. I cleared my throat. “I was already awake. And trust me, I’m already well aware of Percy’s dexterity.”

Percy glared at her, the effect slightly dampened by the hints of flour still coating his front.

“You’re ganging up on me.” He complained.

“I’m sorry, you know we have to tease you sometimes.” She tossed me a wink.

I smiled bashfully back, glad to be included in the joke but still feeling awkward. I rarely spent the night anywhere besides camp and my house in California. And now I was at a boy’s house—at Percy’s house no less.

He was scrubbing at his cheek now, clearly hoping to red himself of evidence before he was embarrassed further. Most of it was gone from his face by now, but there was a lot still in his hair.

“You’ve got some…” I pointed, but he went for his forehead instead. “No, in your hair. It’s—here, let me.”

He had to crouch a little so I could reach—I hadn’t realized how much taller he’d gotten. I remembered last year when we danced at Westover Hall. I’d been taller than him then. Now, either he had to crouch or I had to stand on my tiptoes to reach.

I remembered another time, not long after that. When we’d taken turns holding up the sky, and how it left its mark on both of us. The grey streaks were still there, becoming clearer as I cleared away the flour.

I suddenly became aware that he was staring at me, and I still had my hands buried in his surprisingly soft hair.

Flushing, I took my hands away and cleared my throat. “All good now.”

“Oh,” he straightened, looking a little flustered too. “Good. Thanks.”

I caught sight of Ms. Jackson suppressing a grin while she rummaged in a cupboard. He turned abruptly and busied himself with properly mixing the batter.

I just stood there awkwardly, fidgeting. I wasn’t sure how I fit into their routine, or what would be expected of me. Was I supposed to help? I’d never really cooked much before. What if I did something wrong?

“Annabeth, dear, would you mind setting the table while we get these pancakes started?” Ms. Jackson said. “There’s plates on the counter already and silverware’s in the drawer.”

“Sure,” I said gratefully, glad to have a task I couldn’t possibly mess up.

“And now for the finishing touch,” she said to Percy, adding a couple drops of something to the batter.

“What do we think?” She asked solemnly. “More blue?”

“More blue,” Percy agreed.

I stole a peek and saw that it was indeed a bright shade of indigo. I knew about Percy’s strange obsession with blue food, of course. Even if he hadn’t told me, I would’ve noticed that at least one component to every meal contained the primary color. I hadn’t realized that this obsession was generational, though.

“You like blue food too?” I asked curiously.

“Oh, yes. Just an old inside joke.” Ms. Jackson exchanged smirks with her son. Huh. I’d always imagined that mischievous look came from the godly side but looking at the two Jackson’s now, I could see where he really got it. “Back from when I was with my ex-husband.”

“Eugh, can we not talk about Smelly Gabe this early?” Percy begged, finally locating the spatula. “I’m going to be sick.”

Ms. Jackson laughed, strained though it was, and set about wiping the counter of invisible crumbs.

I busied myself with the table. Percy had told me about Smelly Gabe, though probably a watered-down version. According to him, Gabe was a dimwitted, disgusting jerk whom his mom had only married because he masked the smell of Percy’s demigod aura. He never went into details before, but judging by the way the temperature in the Jackson apartment had just dropped…I could guess there was probably more there than either was willing to admit.

I wondered if Gabe had ever been violent towards Percy and Ms. Jackson, and if that had anything to do with why they were so close, or why Percy was so protective. The thought made my heart clench. How anyone could treat the Jacksons with anything but adoration was beyond me.

Whatever the case may be, clearly this wasn’t the time to dwell on it. I decided to change the subject.

“You’re dating someone else now, right?” I asked, setting forks beside each plate. “Paul something?”

Immediately, Ms. Jackson brightened. Whoever this Paul was, he was seriously lucky to be with someone like her.

“Yes, Paul Blofis. Such a wonderful man. He’s a teacher at Percy’s new school.”

“Yeah, Percy mentioned that. I saw him when we met out by the school.” I shot her a mischievous look of my own. “He’s handsome.”

She laughed, and all traces of her previous discomfort were gone. She launched into the happy story of how they met, and Percy shot me a look that I thought might be gratitude. He started ladling blue batter onto the sizzling pan.

While Ms. Jackson chatted, I allowed myself to relax. My gaze wandered over to Percy, who was still in his pajamas: dark green flannel bottoms, a soft looking grey t-shirt, and mismatched socks. His hair was rumpled and sticking up all over like it always did, especially that spot in the back. Honestly, did he ever brush it? He reached up to scratch a spot on his neck, and my attention snagged on his arms. Not the skinny noodle arms he’d had when he first arrived at camp, they’d grown along with him. The muscles were beginning to look more defined, and his shoulders were getting broader seemingly by the day.

I realized his mom had stopped talking. I ripped my gaze away quickly. “Uh…I’m sorry, what was that?”

She grinned, and something in her eyes told me she knew exactly what I’d been thinking. I felt my face burn, but thankfully she didn’t comment.

“I just asked if you slept alright last night,” she said.

“Oh,” I said stupidly. Maybe the blood rush to my face was slowing my brain functioning. “Yes! Yes, I slept great. Thank you again for letting me stay here. That was really nice of you.”

“Not at all, dear! We’re always so happy to have you.” She beamed. “How are the pancakes coming along, Percy?”

“Almost done,” he slid the spatula across the skillet and flipped. The stack of completed pancakes were cooling on a nearby plate, looking a little misshapen and the color of bruises but still edible.

“Percy was bragging about his pancake making skills yesterday,” I recalled. “I’m very interested to see if that was all talk.”

He brandished his spatula at me like he would his sword. “Get ready to eat your words, Wise Girl. And some killer pancakes.”

He flipped the last couple pancakes onto the teetering stack. “There’s still a little batter left but we’ll make those later if we want.”

“Thank you sweetie,” Ms. Jackson said. “Let’s eat!”

Butter and syrup and pancakes and bacon and toast were piled on the table so high there was barely room for the three of us to squeeze in. Plates were passed around until everyone had a mountain of food on their plate, and I waited for Percy and Ms. Jackson to start eating.

“Oh, go ahead dear! No need to wait for us.” Ms. Jackson said, buttering a pancake.

I picked up my fork and sawed off a piece of radioactive looking pancake. It looked better on the inside, bright and vivid and fluffy. I took a cautious bite, careful not to drip syrup on my borrowed shirt, aware that Percy was watching anxiously.

Chewing thoughtfully, I finally said, “I hate to admit it, but these are pretty good.”

He grinned, clearly relieved at the assertion.

“Thanks,” he said through a bite of his own pancake. “See? I can cook some things.”

“Yes, and it only took you fifteen years,” Ms. Jackson said, patting his shoulder affectionately.

“Exactly. I—wait what?”

I snorted into my orange juice.

The rest of breakfast passed in similar fashion. Casual banter, joking around, easy conversation. This is what family breakfast should look like. It reminded me of camp, a little, only on a smaller scale. All the love and fun condensed to a single table. It was nice. And funny thing was, I felt just as at home here than I had anywhere else.

Ms. Jackson had to get ready for a meeting, so Percy and I volunteered to do the dishes. She thanked us profusely and hurried away to change.

Percy and I cleared the table in companiable silence. He knew where all the dishes went and I didn’t, so I washed while he dried and put things away. I was a little quicker than him though, and it turned into a game of who-can-do-their-job-fastest. About halfway through dishes, he suddenly remembered he had water powers and was able to dry dishes simply by touching them.

“Hey, no fair!” I told him once I noticed. “No powers!”

“What!” He said, holding his hands up defensively. “I’m just using the tools at my disposal. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me to do?”

I flicked some sudsy water at him, which predictably rolled right off his clothes.

I wrinkled my nose at him. “Cheater.”

“You’re always using your powers, why shouldn’t I use mine?” He protested.

I scoffed. “I don’t have any powers.”

“Of course you do. What else would you call that big brain of yours?” He put a stack of plates back in the cupboard.

I stared at him for a second, but he didn’t seem to think he’d said anything noteworthy.

What he just said…did he really think that? He certainly sounded genuine. I’m not naïve, I know my skills aren’t as impressive as controlling water or making plants grow or anything like that, but personally, I think intelligence is just as (if not more) important than any of those things. I just didn’t know Percy saw that, too.

They finished doing the dishes with minimal collateral damage, then spent the leisurely morning talking about everything we hadn’t gotten to last night. Ms. Jackson left at some point to go meet Paul, but not before she gave me a big hug and make me promise to keep in touch.

Noon rolled around, and we used up the extra pancake batter to make lunch. Percy showed me how to tell when they were cooked, and how to hold the spatula so the handle wouldn’t break off. He tried to teach me how to flip them without using a spatula at all, just using the pan, to mostly-successful results. It landed on the very edge of the pan, dripping blue goo onto the stovetop.

“Nice work.” I told him.

He made a face. “I’d like to see you do better.”

Never one to back down from an honest challenge, I hefted the pan when the next pancake was laid. Getting a feel for its weight, I flicked my wrist and the pancake went soaring, landing neatly almost in the exact center of the pan.

I rose my eyebrow at him teasingly, but he just rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, Wise Girl.” He said with a grin.

We ate our ‘lunch’ and I asked him about what else he could cook. He was modest about it; simple recipes like pasta and rice and whatnot, but it was more than I could do.

“I don’t think I’ve cooked anything except toast.” I admitted with a laugh, but it was the truth.

“Not much reason to.” He pointed out.

That was true. Still, I didn’t like the idea that there was something out there I didn’t know. Athena’s child through-and-through, and all that.

“You should…come around more. If you wanted to.” Percy said casually. “I could teach you how to make pasta or something, then you can be immediately better than me at that, too.”

I laughed. “Yeah, that might be okay.”

Percy nodded, and it looked like he was trying not to make eye-contact. “Cool.”

“Cool.”

This time, he did look at me and even offered a little smile. I smiled back.

The sun had reached its apex a while ago and was starting to descend. I knew I needed to head back to camp, but for the first time maybe ever, I really didn’t want to go.

“I guess I should probably get back.” I said regretfully.

“Oh. Yeah.” He said, looking out the window.

I went to the door, double checking to make sure I had everything I came with. He came with me, hands jammed in his pockets.

“Thanks for letting me stay here,” I told him.

“Of course,” he said.

“And for…you know. The clothes and breakfast and everything.”

“Yeah. No problem.”

He didn’t say anything further, and neither did I. I was surprised by how much I didn’t want to leave. I’d never, not even at camp, felt so at home anywhere.

He didn’t seem eager to kick me out either. He was kind of just standing there, looking on the verge of speaking and apparently deciding against it.

Eventually, I couldn’t think of any more reasons to linger.

“Well, I guess I should…” I said.

“Oh, right.” He said. “You can borrow Blackjack if you want. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind taking you.”

I smiled. “That’s ok. I think I’d rather just take the train.”

“Okay. You’ve got money and everything?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. Send me an Iris message when you get back.” He bit his lip, as if wishing he hadn’t said that. “Er…”

“I will.” I said easily. “Your mom would probably kill me if I didn’t anyway.”

He grinned. “You’re probably right.”

I’d officially run out of excuses to stay. Yet I just couldn’t help but linger a moment longer. Just to look at him, just to be around him and his amazing home. I wished I could stay here forever.

I did something impulsive. Everyone always forgot I had ADHD too and yes, I could be impulsive at times. I stood up on my tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, just like I’d done two years ago after we’d won the chariot race together.

He blinked, flustered, and stared at me with wide green eyes.

“Bye, Percy.” I said and raced out of the apartment, giddy smile plastered all over my face.