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Fred had it on good authority that it was normal to struggle to imagine your children as anything other than your little babies who needed your protection. His wife felt that way about their boys, and plenty of co-workers with children confirmed that, even when they were adults, you still look at your child as, well, you child.
With the boys, it felt like a normal amount of parental concern and struggle. They were eleven. Old enough to stay home alone sometimes, old enough to have cell phones, and that sort of thing, but he still felt nervous about all of that. What if unrestricted phone use sent them down an alt-right pipeline? What if the house caught fire while he wasn’t there?
Normal parenting things.
Annabeth though…
Intellectually he knew that somehow eighteen years had passed since her arrival (birth?), but in his mind she was still seven -- that scared, smart, sweet little girl. He’d seen her plenty in the last few years, sure, he knew she had grown up, but she … she was still so little when he thought about her. He seemed more worried about her now than when she was actually that small. He looked at her now, taking her duffel bag out of her boyfriend’s car for the long-weekend stay for Thanksgiving, and it didn’t matter that she was eighteen. You need to protect her , some part of his brain said. It never used to say that. When he had her the first time, that voice was so absent. She is a blessing. That was why Athena had left her, after all. A gift.
Fred gave her a big hug, surprised all over again to discover she was about as tall as him. He glanced down to see if she was in heels, but she wasn’t. Percy only cleared her height by a few inches.
He always liked Percy. He seemed like a good, responsible boy. And he seemed to not just understand, but really love Annabeth’s idiosyncrasies.
The boy knew his architecture facts.
Fred led them inside and upstairs. “Here’s Annabeth’s room,” he said to Percy.
When they bought the house, Fred insisted on a place that had a room for Annabeth too. She’d only stayed in it a handful of times, and anything that belonged to her were from those bygone days. Before the spiders. Little trophies, chapter books, her American Girl Dolls, photos of the two of them … things he took with him from Virginia for her.
“Percy, your room is down here,” Fred said, starting that way, with Percy behind him.
“Can we not share a room?” Annabeth asked from down the hall.
Percy blushed, and Fred couldn’t figure out why. Fred shrugged. He didn’t have an issue with them sharing. But the bed in her room was a twin. It wouldn’t be comfortable for the two of them. And anyway, they probably wouldn’t spend much time upstairs. Why would they want to --
Annabeth smiled at him, discomfort obvious on her face even if they wouldn’t look each other in the eye.
Right , he reminded himself. She’s not seven .
“Um,” Fred said. “Sure, that’s fine.”
“It’s really not a big --” Percy started, looking at him and then Annabeth.
“No, no, it’s fine. It’s just,” Fred tried to gather his thoughts enough to suggest they stay in the guest room since it had the bigger bed. But his eyes fixed on Annabeth again. She was grown up. Really, really grown up. And he hadn’t done anything to prepare her for -- oh gods, was she being safe? She must be. She’s smart enough to -- oh but who knows what they taught her at that camp -- “are you on birth control?”
“Daddy!” Annabeth yelped. He could hear Percy stepping back away from him, as if he meant to flee.
“Sorry, sorry,” Fred said, rubbing the bridge of his nose and surely getting finger smudges on the lenses of his glasses. “I mean, you should both take the guest room. The bed is bigger.”
“Thanks,” Annabeth said, obviously angry with him. She stomped down the hall, grabbing Percy’s arm and taking him with her as she did.
He never could seem to get things right with her.
~
“I’m sorry about earlier,” Fred said. The boys had gone to bed, as had his wife. It was just him and her. Well, Percy was there, but the first twenty minutes of Fellowship of the Ring had knocked him out cold.
Annabeth shook her head. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for getting angry. I was just embarrassed is all.”
“I understand,” he promised.
They kept their eyes fixed on the TV as she said: “I am, though. I mean, we’re being safe, don’t worry. No grandkids anytime soon.”
“Unless you think them into existence,” Fred said.
Annabeth laughed, a clear, beautiful laugh. He tried to remember if he’d ever heard it before.
“I probably would have done that by now if I could do that,” Annabeth confessed. He finally looked at her then, but then she was looking at her sleeping boyfriend, curled up on the love seat.
“He’s a nice boy,” Fred said.
“Yeah, he’s the best,” Annabeth agreed.
“You two have something special,” Fred said.
Annabeth made an mmhum noise, and went back to watching the movie.
He remembered watching these with her when she was so little. Eighteen now. As tall as him. Smarter than him probably. She had a scar on her shoulder. He’d never asked where she’d gotten it. He hoped she wasn’t too young. But anything that had happened to her had happened too young, he supposed. That must have been his fault.
“Did you have to figure all of that … birth control stuff out on your own?” He asked, not sure how to ask about the rest of her life, all the parts he should have done but was absent from.
“Oh, um,” her ears were red, and he regretted asking a bit. “Sally, Percy’s mom, helped. She did the whole talk thing, and then helped me get on it a while ago.”
“A while?” Fred asked before he could help himself.
Annabeth buried her face in a pillow. “Not like years ,” she promised. “It was precautionary,” she mumbled. Oh, he thought, so they haven’t … He understood that some people enjoyed sex, he’d just never been one of them. It made sense that his girl, who got his hair, his height, his nose, had also gotten that. He hoped Percy was kind about it.
“Oh, okay,” Fred said. “Are you two just big cuddlers, then?” He asked, trying to lighten the mood.
Annabeth looked at him confused, before going red again. All she said was: “Yeah, sure,” and it sounded like a half-truth.
Was. He realized. Was precautionary.
“You know you don’t need to do anything you don’t want to,” Fred told her.
“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do!” She said back, her voice raising enough that Percy snored next to them.
“You’re angry again,” Fred observed.
“I’m embarrassed again. Gods, can we just talk about literally anything else?” Annabeth begged.
“Sure,” Fred said, turning back to the movie. “Is Strider still your favorite? I remember what a crush you had on him when you were --” Her face was still red, and he followed her eyes to her sleeping boyfriend, and Fred realized this was not all that different actually.
Annabeth curled her legs up to her chest, holding on tight to a pillow and said, “Yeah, I still like Aragorn.” And then: “They asked Percy to be a god once.” Fred looked at her, and found her eyes looking back. “I wasn’t the only reason he said no, but I was part of it.”
“Ah,” Fred said, “so you’re Strider?”
Annabeth laughed again. “Yeah, yeah, I think I am.”
“Well, good, I’m glad you have someone who …” he searched for the right words for a moment, “who knows what a blessing you are.”
Annabeth scooted closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder, the way she did when she was little. He pulled her in close.