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Annabeth Chase feels like she doesn't speak well, prefering to show rather than tell her feelings. So when she does tell, she prefers to speak explicitly and with all intentions out in the open the best she can. She doesn't care to use flowery prose all that much with all its words dripping in allegory and laced with feelings left unspoken. Why should someone have to read between invisible lines to know what she means?
It's not like she never learned how to use it. She passed all of her high school and college literature courses with As, thanks to some tutors along the way. And despite her dyslexia making it hard to keep letters in order and her ADHD making it hard to keep her brain from wandering, reading is a favorite hobby of hers and always has been.
But, ideally, she plans for the words that roll off her tongue and the lines of text she types into message boxes on her phone to be direct and as clean and crisp as the lines an architect would make with a pencil against a ruler while drawing up blueprints; as certain and prepared as the words of a lawyer's neat and practiced opening and final statements.
She doesn't care to ramble and she doesn't like a mess. It took time but the eloquent, clear, and practiced speech that has been drilled into her since she was a child is all she knows now. And she's never been able to get away from it.
So, with that being said, Annabeth has zero clue why she can't be as direct with Percy as she desires.
Albeit, she's tried a few times; more than a few, to be honest. But whenever she almost gets there—a sure declaration of what they should be on their way to exit her lips—the words die in her throat and she changes the subject instead. And when a confession feels like it's right on her fingertips, her half-written, unsent texts are deleted with a frantic tap of her thumb on the backspace button. She shuts her phone down, and screams into her pillow for the billionth time when it comes to this topic.
As one may assume, Annabeth also doesn't care for exaggeration or hyperbole. But that number feels as real as her feelings for Percy are. And his are for her.
Because she's not oblivious.
She knows what the quick tempo of his heart means while they're laying together on the old couch he bought from Facebook Marketplace (that he definitely should've lowballed, but didn't—the kind soul) because it matches her own. She hears it while drifting off to sleep with his arm around her waist and her ear pressed to his chest and their legs tangled together under a cheap throw blanket.
She knows that the glow in his strikingly blue eyes when he looks at her mirrors the one her large dark brown ones gaze up at him with. A glow that looks a little like love on him and feels a lot like love to her.
She knows he's scared. That because he feels love and devotion so strongly, and wears his heart on his sleeve like a vintage patch sewn onto his favorite denim jacket, that he can't ever hide any of his feelings even if he tried.
And she knows he's trying.
It's in the multiple occasions that he's almost reached over to hold her hand when he's driving them somewhere, but glitched at the last second to grab his bottle of water in the cupholder instead. Or changed the volume on the car stereo from 13 to 14 and back down to 13 again as if that's an important enough difference in volume to not only notice but to also acknowledge.
It's in the way that when he asks questions about her braiding styles, it's because he's 'just curious, is all' as if she hasn't caught him watching braiding, braid takedown, wash day, and detangling tutorials on TikTok multiple times. As if she hasn't noticed that he keeps some of her favorite products and tools in his bathroom. She can tell he's always itching to help her however he can.
It's in the way he plants a kiss to the top of her head when he thinks she's fallen asleep against his chest already. He never does it when she's obviously awake.
It's in the longing glances and fleeting touches and fleeting glances and longing touches that they both share that still haven't gone any further.
At least, Annabeth thinks that's what's happening.
Because if she's right, they've continued this dance around each other for about 5 years now; steps unsure and unsteady at 18 years old now clean and perfected at 23 after so many years of repetition. Annabeth can't tell when the curtain will finally fall.
When she was 18, she thought she needed to run; to get as far away from him and his intuitive nature and strong feelings as possible. Oh, how terrifying it is to let someone see into your soul, after all. But she forced herself to stay close. She can't imagine her life now without him.
She wanted to ignore it; to push down her own feelings of hope that he feels the same way. But she gave in, let herself feel her own feelings, and be a little hopeful too.
Annabeth doesn't think she's being subtle towards Percy. And she's not trying to be—not exactly. Again, she's not one for implication and hidden messages. Even though it's been hard to say it all, she's tried to show it. She strives to be honest and direct in all that she does, after all.
But does Percy?
Is he really being as obvious as Annabeth thinks he is? Is he as in love as she wants him to be?
Why doesn't he see that Annabeth's hand is always on the middle console of his Prius, ready and waiting for his hand to grasp her own? Her fingers longing for his to entangle with them.
Does he not think about the time Annabeth stayed the night and pressed her lips to the underside of his jaw before they both drifted off into sleep? Does he not remember the jitters in Annabeth's hands on his face as she steadied herself to do so? Or the kiss he planted on her head a few minutes later?
Is it unintentional that every touch from him gives Annabeth goosebumps and every glance makes her dizzy?
Does he have any idea what he does to her at all?
Maybe it's all platonic to Percy. Maybe it's just natural for his heart to beat a little faster than normal, no matter if she's near him or not, and the way he shows affection to Annabeth is how he shows it to all of his loved ones and she's never noticed.
Maybe she's not as special to him as she thought.
Maybe Annabeth is the only one dancing around absolutely nothing; accidentally perfecting a partner dance that was always meant to be a solo.
Maybe she was over-analyzing everything and letting her heart lead when her head should've instead. Her mother would be disappointed.
It took her so long to let him in; to not run away at his strong and sincere declarations of love and loyalty since they were younger. She's never had that before…What if that's why she's latched onto him? What if that's why she can't fathom the idea of letting him go?
It was always hard for Annabeth to hear all of which was so easy for Percy to say about her. He was too good to be true back then.
Maybe he still is. Maybe it all is.
Maybe Annabeth knows nothi—
"…beth. Hello? Earth to Wise Girl," Percy's soft voice gently brings Annabeth out of her spiraling, catastrophic thoughts. She momentarily forgot where she was: curled into his side while a movie that she can't even remember now has started to roll its ending credits.
She picks her head up to look up at him in the eyes. "Hey," she whispers.
A small smile graces his lips and his eyes, while concerned, still shine in that all-too-familiar and loving way.
Unless she's imagining it, that is.
"Hey," he whispers too, "welcome back." He lightly taps a finger to her forehead two times. "What're you thinking about in there?" His voice is so, so soft—the way it always is with her—and Annabeth feels a little queasy.
She sighs and turns back away from him.
"Nothing," she lies.
"Everything," she tries to take back her dishonesty.
"I don't know," she finally admits. "Too much."
She shakes her head slightly and curls into herself even more. With an arm around her, he somehow tugs her in closer than she already was.
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but you know I'm always here to listen."
He means it, she knows he does. He always means it when it comes to how much he cares. It's one of the many reasons she fell in love with him—and one of the many reasons her feelings scared her so much when they first met. But she still can't stop herself from letting year old insecurities creep in.
"Are you just saying that?" She hates how nervous and timid she sounds when she voices the question.
"Annabeth," Percy starts. "Look at me. Please."
When she obliges, she can see that his eyes have saddened just a little; an overcast sky over the ocean.
"What's going on?" He's not angry with her, his voice is as gentle as it always is. "When have I ever said something like that to you without meaning it? You trust me, right?"
Annabeth shrugs and finds herself giving him a small, sad, smile. Percy's arm that's not wrapped around her rests on his lap. She mindlessly fidgets with his fingers and he lets her without complaint.
"You're right," she mumbles. "And I do trust you. I just," she takes a deep breath before sitting up, uncurling her legs, letting them hang off the couch, and turning towards Percy. She still fidgets with his hand. He still lets her. He looks at her expectantly, patiently, giving her the space to speak when she's ready.
"I've been thinking…," Annabeth begins slowly, unsteadily. She stops there for a beat and Percy nods slightly; a silent and supportive push to keep going. "I've been thinking that…" she tries again, still unsure of her own words.
"Ugh! I'm sorry… I can't. I—" She covers her face with her hands and groans in frustration when a lump forms in her throat.
Annabeth hates this. She hates not having the right words to say. She hates feeling unprepared. She hates feeling unsure. She hates being scared of her own feelings. She hates that she's keeping something from Percy. She hates that she's having such a hard time saying it all.
Percy's hands wrap around her wrists, slowly pulling them away from her face. Annabeth wonders if he can feel her pulse racing or just how much her hands are shaking.
"Don't apologize, please," Percy says. And he keeps going after that but Annabeth is having a hard time hearing or processing it because Percy is looking at her with more care than anyone in her life has ever looked at her.
And her instincts are telling her to run; her brain is telling her she's just imagining things.
But he looks so beautiful in the warm lighting of the floor lamp in the corner of the room; it turns his hair into gold.
And Annabeth has always loved staring at his freckles.
And he's holding her hands in a way that lets him brush his thumbs gently over the backs of her hands; calming and soothing and distracting.
And she thinks she can hear her blood pumping in her ears and her thoughts are both loud and somehow silent at the same time and, gods above, seriously—the way he's looking at her.
There's no way she's wrong. She can't be.
It's in his eyes. It's in his touch. It's his every word and the voice he speaks them in. It's everything about him that shows her just how much he loves her. And she doesn't want to run away from it; doesn't want to deny it or question it any longer.
The realization settles in in a surprisingly comfortable way, and suddenly, eloquence and preparation be damned, Annabeth feels ready to speak.
"I love you," Annabeth blurts out, interrupting him. Her heart already feels lighter at the impulsive act.
Percy pauses in the middle of whatever it was that Annabeth didn't take in anyway.
"What?" He asks like he didn't hear what she said. His head is tilted like that of a confused puppy. His eyes widen.
Annabeth sits up onto her knees and holds his face in her hands—as a way to get closer to him and as a way to keep herself in place; to keep herself grounded as she feels the need to spill her guts—figuratively, that is. She keeps her eyes on his, though the gorgeous freckles that spread across his rosy cheeks are a bit distracting, admittedly.
"I love you, Percy. You're my best friend and I love you. We say it all the time already so I know it probably doesn't sound like anything new and I am not good at speaking but I. Love. You. I'm in love with you." She takes a shaky breath before continuing, trying to ignore the way her eyes sting just a bit.
"And I've wanted to say it this way for years, Percy. Since the first semester we met, believe it or not. But I couldn't figure out how. The words always choked me up or the timing felt wrong or, or.. I don't know. I got scared. So I would try to show it but I couldn't ever tell if you noticed or if you even love me the same way." Annabeth wobbles on the soft unsteady couch cushion, and he grabs onto her waist, steadying her while she forges on through her messy ramble.
"I wanted to be hopeful, and assign my own desires onto your every word and action towards me but I was also embarassed of the idea of being wrong. And I don't think I am. I think I know you quite well, honestly. But if I'm wrong, please tell me. Because the thought of ruining everything is terrifying me so please ju—"
Percy surges forward and meets her lips with his. His grip on her waist tightens when she quickly shakes off the sudden shock and responds, giving into the kiss with the same over-eagerness he dove in with.
As their lips meet over and over and over again—Annabeth and Percy both leaning into some sort of passionate uncertainty while learning how to move with one another—they shift positions, with Annabeth ending up in his lap and her legs on either side of his own. A smile tugs at her lips and it interrupts the kiss when she can't suppress it anymore.
Forehead to forehead, they both breathe heavily, catching their breaths and basking in the moment with eyes still closed.
"Does that answer your question?" Percy asks lowly, nudging Annabeth's nose with his own. His breath is warm on her lips when he speaks and his nose brushing against hers almost tickles a little bit. She opens her eyes to see his blue ones are already open and set on her.
"I didn't even ask a question!" Annabeth giggles through the sentence, and it feels as thought the weight of all the worry she's carried with her for years about this has finally been removed from her shoulders. It exits her soul with every giggle that floats from her lips. She feels giddy.
She doesn't know if she's ever felt anything like giddiness before meeting Percy.
"Okay, so ask me a question then."
"Percy Jackson, do you lov—"
He kisses her again and it's slower and more tender, too. They're both already so comfortable with this. He breaks the kiss and sits back with one of the brightest smiles on his face that Annabeth has ever seen. There's that glow in his eyes again. How could Annabeth have thought it was anything other than love this whole time?
"Now, did that answer your question?"
Annabeth does her best to give a nonchalant shrug and feign an indifferent expression.
"Maybe." She fidgets with the blond hair that curls above his ears.
Percy scoffs playfully. "'Maybe?'"
She nods once.
"Why 'maybe'?"
She shrugs again. "Maybe I wanna hear you say it too."
He tilts his head to the side again, a smirk on his face. "Say what?" She loves that smirk.
Annabeth huffs and lightly hits his chest. "Percy…" she grumbles.
He laughs and Annabeth feels warm all over. "Okay, okay," he says. "I'm sorry."
And now it's his turn to grab Annabeth's face; both hands cradling her jaw.
"Annabeth Chase," Percy begins, all the seriousness in the world, "I love you. I have this whole time."
Annabeth can't hide the way she lights up at the admission and Percy laughs.
"Are you shocked? You're so, so special to me, Wise Girl." He's using that soft and sweet voice on her again. "From the first day we met, I knew you would be. You're everything I need, Annabeth. How could I not fall in love with you?"
And Annabeth just melts at his words. She initiates the kiss this time, and they take a while to pull apart. He suddenly tastes salty. Like tears. She doesn't know which one of them they're from.
When she does pull away, she sees a few tears trail down his freckled face. She can feel a few run down her own cheeks.
Both of them are quick to reach out and gently brush them off the other's face. They stare at each other and smile, for just a beat, before Annabeth falls forward and nestles her face into Percy's neck as he wraps his arms around her.
"Why did this take us so long?" Annabeth wonders out loud.
"We both worry too much, I think."
Annabeth hums.
"Yeah. I guess we do. What were you worried about?" She twirls her fingers into his curls.
"That you would tell me to leave and I'd lose my best friend…What were you worried about?"
"That you'd leave me…and I'd lose my best friend."
Percy runs a soothing hand up and down Annabeth's back. "I'd never leave you, you know," he states firmly.
"And I'd never make you leave," Annabeth replies just as sure, following her words with a kiss pressed to his neck.
They fall into a comfortable silence, enjoying the feeling of each other's presence in this new context for a little while, before Annabeth picks her head up and speaks again.
"Can I be honest?"
"Always."
"That conversation took it out of me. I think I'm ready for bed."
Percy leans forward to press his lips to her forehead. Her eyes flutter shut just for a moment as he does.
"Or…" Percy begins, a sheepish look on his face when she opens her eyes.
"Or?…"
"Or we could kiss a little longer? I mean, if you wanna, of course. We don't have to, I swear. I know it's late but I wanted to ask before we do go to b—"
Annabeth rolls her eyes but is 100% more than happy to indulge, leaning in and cutting off his words.
"We definitely can, Percy," Annabeth laughs out. "It's okay."
When their lips connect again and again and again, sure and comfortable and loving, all Annabeth can think about is how she's finally at peace.