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it’s raining hard enough that the road looks like it’s melting, yellow lines wavering under the headlights, the wipers can barely keep up. percy drives with one hand on the wheel, the other drumming against the door, jaw locked so tight it aches.
annabeth sits rigid in the passenger seat, arms crossed, legs crossed tight like she’s bracing for impact. she’s staring straight ahead, like if she turns her head even an inch she’ll lose control of her mouth.
they’re driving to hazel’s place in camp jupiter, where they’re staying over while visiting the new rome campus. prior to the drive she overheard percy ranting to mediator grover on an iris message as she approached the car. the ride has been silent so far.
“you didn’t have to say it like that,” she says finally.
it’s not loud, or dramatic. it’s precise–the way she speaks when she’s already decided she’s right.
percy snorts. “oh my gods.”
she turns then. “don’t.”
“don’t what?” he shoots back, eyes still on the road. “react? because i’m pretty sure that ship sailed.”
“you know exactly what i mean.”
“i actually don’t,” he says. “because from where i’m sitting, i said something honest and you decided to take it as a personal attack.”
“because you said it like one.”
he grips the steering wheel harder, knuckles whitening. the headlights of a passing car flash brightly, briefly blinding them.
“i said i was frustrated,” he snaps. “i didn’t call you names. i didn’t accuse you of anything.”
“you implied—”
“i didn’t imply shit,” he cuts in. “you filled in the blanks because you always do.”
that makes her laugh, sharp and incredulous. “that’s rich.”
“what?”
“you accusing me of assumptions,” she says. “you, who jumps to conclusions like it’s a fucking sport.”
he finally looks at her then, eyes dark, expression pulled tight. “at least i decide,” he fires back. “you just hover. you stall. you think until everything rots.”
her jaw tightens. “wow.”
“don’t do that.”
“do what?”
“that tone,” he says. “like you’re already writing a mental report about why i’m wrong.”
“maybe because you are.”
the rain pounds harder, like it’s reacting to them.
“see?” he says. “there it is. you always have to be right.”
she leans back in her seat, arms still crossed, defensive. “no. i have to be careful.”
“with me.”
“with us.”
“same thing,” he snaps.
she scoffs. “you really think you’re the only variable here?”
“i think i’m the one you keep trying to manage,” he says. “like i’m a problem.”
“you are reckless.”
“and you’re controlling.”
“i am not—”
“you tell me when to slow down. when to stop. when to think,” he says, voice rising despite himself. “you boss me around like you don’t trust me to survive without your instructions.”
she turns fully toward him now. “because you don’t trust yourself.”
that one lands.
the car fills with the sound of rain and the low hum of the engine, like it’s holding its breath.
“fuck you,” he says quietly through some sort of an unimpressed laugh.
“don’t swear at me.”
“don’t analyze me like i’m a thesis.”
she shakes her head. “you’re unbelievable.”
“yeah?” he shoots back. “so are you when you get like this.”
“get like what?”
“cold,” he says. “detached. like you’re already planning your exit.”
she laughs again, but this time it cracks. “you think i’m planning to leave?”
“i think you’re always preparing for it,” he says. “like you need to be ready in case i screw up.”
“you do screw up.”
“so do you,” he snaps. “you just hide it behind logic.”
she opens her mouth, then closes it again, breathing through her nose. “you’re impossible to talk to.”
“because you can’t be reasoned with!” he says. “you’re not talking to me, you’re talking at me.”
that’s when it really turns.
“pull over,” she says suddenly.
he glances at her. “what?”
“pull over,” she repeats. firmer now. “you’re driving like an asshole.”
“i’m fine.”
“percy.”
that tone. the one that’s not asking.
he clenches his jaw. “don’t tell me what to do.”
“i am not doing this in a moving vehicle,” she says. “you’re already distracted.”
“i’m distracted because you’re treating me like a liability.”
“you’re acting like one.”
he laughs, harsh and disbelieving. “wow.”
“pull over.”
“no.”
“percy—”
“i said no.”
she glares at him. “you can’t just ignore me.”
“watch me.”
the silence that follows is nuclear.
rain lashes the windshield. the wipers thump back and forth, back and forth, like a countdown. annabeth’s breathing shallows as if she’s forcing herself not to explode.
“you know what your problem is?” she says finally.
he exhales sharply. “here we go.”
“you confuse intensity with honesty,” she continues. “you think because you feel something loudly, it’s more real.”
“and you think just because you feel it quietly, it doesn’t exist,” he fires back.
she shakes her head. “i think because i feel it deeply, i don’t want to screw it up.”
he grips the wheel so hard his hands ache. “you think i don’t?”
“i think you’d burn it all down just to see what happens.”
that does it. they both know she’s right.
he yanks the wheel to the right, signaling hard, pulling into the first parking lot they pass. gravel crunches under the tires as he slams the car into a space near the back, engine still running, rain hammering the roof like it’s furious at them.
the car jolts to a stop.
silence crashes in, loud and immediate.
“there,” he says, voice shaking with restrained fury. “happy?”
she turns to him, eyes blazing. “don’t be dramatic.”
“dramatic?” he laughs, short and sharp. “you literally ordered me to pull over.”
they stare at each other, breath fogging the air between them, rain streaking down the windows until the world outside dissolves completely.
the engine is still running.
that’s the first thing annabeth notices—low, constant, vibrating through the seats and into her bones. percy hasn’t turned it off. his foot is still on the brake like he might bolt at any second, like this is a temporary stop and not what it really is.
a standoff.
rain detonates against the roof, a constant aggressive hiss. the windows fog almost instantly, heat trapped inside the car with nowhere to go.
“don’t look at me like that,” she says.
percy turns his head slowly. deliberately. “like what?”
“like i’m a problem,” she snaps. “like i’m something you need to deal with.”
he lets out a humorless laugh. “you deal with me all the time.”
“because you need it.”
“because you let yourself think i do,” he fires back. “because it makes you feel necessary.”
her mouth opens, then closes. she breathes in sharply through her nose. “that’s a low fucking blow.”
“so is telling me i’ll burn everything down,” he says. “so is acting like i’m one bad decision away from ruining your life.”
“you are,” she says immediately.
the honesty of it lands harder than anger.
his jaw tightens. “and you think you aren’t?”
she scoffs. “i think about consequences.”
“no,” he says. “you obsess over them.”
she leans forward in her seat, pointing a finger at his chest. “someone has to.”
he swats her hand away. not hard. sharp. impatient. “stop.”
she freezes. eyes flicking to where his hand touched her wrist.
“don’t touch me like that,” she says incredulously.
“don’t poke me like i’m a dog you’re training,” he snaps back.
the air between them crackles.
“you hate that i challenge you,” she says. “you hate that i don’t just let you do whatever you want.”
“no,” he says. “i hate that you think you’re the only thing standing between me and disaster.”
“because you act like it!”
“because you treat me like it!” he shouts, finally. the sound of his voice ricochets inside the car. “you look at me like i’m a ticking bomb.”
she flinches inward.
“i look at you like i’m scared to lose you,” she says.
that shuts him up.
for half a second, anyway.
his shoulders rise and fall. his gaze drops to his lap, twisting his fingers, then snaps back to hers, raw and unfiltered. “then why does it always feel like you’re halfway out the door?”
“because i’m the only one thinking about what happens after,” she says. “you live in the moment like it won’t kill you.”
“it hasn’t yet.”
“that’s not the point!”
“then what is?” he demands. “because from where i’m sitting, it feels like you want me…” his voice breaks for a split second, just enough to give him away “on your terms only.”
her throat tightens. “i want you alive.”
“i want you with me,” he shoots back. “not hovering over me like a fucking safety net.”
she exhales sharply, hands fisting in her lap. “you don’t understand what it’s like.”
“then explain it,” he says. “stop telling me what to do and tell me why.”
she laughs once, brittle. “you don’t listen to why.”
“i’m listening now.”
she stares at him like she doesn’t believe that for a second. then—softly, dangerously—she says, “if i let myself want you the way i do, i lose control. and if i lose control, everything else goes with it.”
his breath catches.
“you think i don’t know that?” he says. “you think i don’t wake up already thinking about you?”
her eyes flash. “stop.”
“stop what?”
“don’t make this sound romantic,” she snaps. “it’s terrifying.”
“it’s obsessive,” he counters. “it’s consuming. it’s you being in my head even when i’m trying not to think about you.”
“that’s not healthy!”
“neither is pretending you don’t feel it,” he says. “you boss me around because you’re scared i’ll take the lead.”
she glares at him. “you don’t need encouragement.”
“no,” he says. “i need permission.”
the words drop heavy into the space between them.
she shakes her head. “you know damn well you don’t need my permission.”
“i want it,” he says. “because when it comes to you, i don’t fucking trust myself.”
something in her expression shifts. her anger bending into something more volatile.
“that’s not my responsibility,” she says.
“you make it your responsibility,” he snaps. “you always have.”
she leans forward suddenly, unbuckling her seatbelt with a sharp click. the sound cuts through the tension like a blade.
“what are you doing?” he asks.
“proving a point,” she says.
she climbs over the console in one sharp movement, knees sliding awkwardly, hands bracing on his shoulders. the space collapses instantly. heat, breath, presence. she doesn’t settle yet. she hovers, just inches away.
his hands fly up automatically, catching her at the waist. “annabeth—”
“don’t,” she says. “don’t tell me to stop unless you mean it.”
his grip tightens reflexively. “you’re out of your mind.”
“you like it better when i’m in control,” she says. “admit it.”
she shifts her weight deliberately, straddling him now, knees pressing into the seat on either side of his thighs. the steering wheel digs into her spine. he doesn’t move it.
“you’re doing this to punish me,” he says.
“you started it,” she fires back. “you always do.”
his voice drops. “you climbed onto my lap in a literal parking lot in the rain.”
“because you don’t listen unless i force you to.”
“you don’t get to force me,” he growls.
she leans in until their noses brush. “you let me.”
his breath stutters. his hands are still on her waist, firm and unyielding. “because you drive me insane.”
“good,” she says again. “maybe now you’ll stop acting like you don’t revolve around me.”
his laugh is broken. “you don’t get to pretend you don’t know that.”
“i don’t want to be the center of your world,” she says.
“too late,” he snaps. “you already are.”
that’s when she kisses him.
not soft. not hesitant.
mean.
it’s all teeth and accusation and pent-up rage, mouths colliding like they’re trying to shut each other up. percy freezes for half a heartbeat—then he snaps back just as hard, hands tightening, kiss deepening into something furious and breathless.
this isn’t just about want.
it’s about winning.
they break apart gasping, foreheads colliding.
“you’re an asshole,” she mutters.
“you love telling me what to do,” he shoots back. “say it.”
“no.”
“say it.”
“fuck you.”
his grin is sharp, feral. “see? bossy.”
she shoves his shoulder. he grabs her hips harder, holding her in place.
“you don’t get to run this,” he says.
“you don’t get to pretend you’re not already mine,” she fires back.
“i never said i wasn’t.”
annabeth blinks at him, breath catching, and starts to shift, trying to lift herself off. her eyes flick to his, sharp and challenging, like she’s daring him to stop her.
his hands catch her gently but firmly at her waist, pulling her back just enough to press her against him. “you’re the one that climbed on me,” he murmurs, voice low but teasing, “own it.”
she huffs, trying to twist away, but he leans in, brushing his lips along hers, fingers splaying along her back under her shirt, pressing her chest to his. she bites her lower lip, tugging at his hair, eyes flashing. “you’re infuriating.”
he grins against her mouth, teeth grazing her jaw lightly. “and yet—” he trails off into a kiss, letting the motion do the talking, teasing just enough to make her arch instinctively.
she gasps against him, tugging at his hair, pressing her lips to his jaw, biting lightly. he hums, sliding his hand further under her shirt, palm pressing flat against skin, thumb brushing her side, dragging lips along her neck, nipping at the pulse there.
“percy—” she groans, trying to twist, pushing him just enough to get air between them, but he’s relentless, one hand anchoring her waist, the other teasing up her ribs.
“i can feel your heartbeat” he murmurs against her throat.
“shut up,” she hisses, twisting. she’s drawing him in hard by his hair, her fingers digging into his shoulders.
he laughs low, dragging her closer, tilting her head. “you don’t understand what you do to me,” he murmurs, drawing his hand further on her spine.
she shivers a little, pressing lips along jaw, teeth at his collarbone, adjusting to press chest to chest, pulling at his shirt now, sighing. he hums, one hand settling on her thigh, fingers pressing along the curve, watching her reactions.
“stop teasing,” she mutters breathlessly, dragging her mouth along his shoulder, then moving her lips to brush along his jaw.
“not a chance,” he murmurs, his knuckles now settling on her jaw.
the tension hums between them, thick and electric, rain rattling the roof like it’s trying to get in on it. annabeth exhales through her nose, sharp, annoyed at herself for the way her body betrays her, for how easily he gets under her skin. she shifts on his lap again, not to get off but just enough to make him suck in a breath he doesn’t mean to.
she feels it immediately.
the reaction.
the way his hands flex at her waist, fingers digging in just a little harder, the way his head tips back against the seat for half a second like he’s bracing himself. her lips curve.
“wow,” she mutters, leaning in just enough for her breath to hit his mouth. “that’s… embarrassing for you.”
his laugh comes out low and breathless, more exhale than sound. “don’t,” he says, but his hands slide anyway. one firm at her hip, the other drifting back to her thigh, thumb pressing into muscle like he’s testing how much he can get away with.
she leans down and bites his jaw.
he groans despite himself, fingers tightening reflexively. “you’re doing that on purpose.”
“what, this?” she says, rocking her hips again, slow this time. calculated. “no idea what you mean.”
“liar,” he murmurs, but there’s no heat in it—just that wrecked edge she knows too well.
she kisses him before he can say anything else, cutting him off mid-breath. it’s messy and sharp, mouths colliding, teeth knocking. her hands slide into his hair, tugging hard enough to pull a sound from his throat that goes straight to her spine.
he recovers fast.
his mouth turns mean right back, biting at her lower lip, just hard enough to make her gasp before he kisses her deeper. one hand slides up, his palm hot, his fingers spreading like he’s memorizing her. the other stays on her thigh, grounding her there, unmistakably keeping her where she is.
she pulls back just enough to glare at him. “don’t smirk at me.”
he absolutely smirks.
“you initiated this,” he says quietly. “that was your choice.”
she scoffs, but instead of arguing, she leans in and drags her mouth along his jawline, slow and deliberate, her lips pressing into the soft spot under his ear. his breath stutters. she feels it against her skin, feels the way his body reacts despite him desperately trying to stay sharp.
“you talk way too much,” she murmurs.
“then shut me up.”
she does.
the kiss is worse this time. hotter, sloppier, all frustration and nerve. she grinds down on him without pretending it’s accidental, nails scraping lightly at his scalp. his hands move instantly, both cradling her back like she’ll float away if he doesn’t.
he breaks the kiss just long enough to nip at her shoulder, teeth catching fabric, then skin. she gasps and shoves at his chest half-heartedly.
“percy—”
he kisses the sound out of her mouth, then her neck, then her collarbone, biting lightly like he’s testing how far he can push before she snaps. his hand finds hers when she presses it against his face, and instead of pulling it away, he turns his head and presses a slow kiss into her palm.
it short-circuits her.
“don’t do that,” she says, voice thinner now.
he looks up at her, eyes dark, focused. “you’re shaking.”
“i’m not.”
he slides his hand back to her waist, thumbs pressing into skin. “you are.”
she hates that he notices. hates that he sounds satisfied about it.
so she moves again. harder this time, just enough to make him suck in a breath through his teeth. she leans down and kisses him like she’s angry about it, because she is, refusing to be gentle.
his control slips for a second. she feels it. his head falls back again, a quiet, wrecked sound leaving him before he can stop it.
“gods, ‘beth,” he mutters, almost to himself.
that does something to her.
she grabs his hair and pulls him back to her mouth. “don’t get dramatic.”
he laughs, breathless, sliding his hand higher along her back, fingers digging in. “you’re the one trying to kill me.”
“you’re enjoying it,” she snaps, kissing down his jaw again.
he nips again at her shoulder in response, harder this time. “don’t pretend you’re not.”
“i never said that.”
“i’m about to lose it,” he snaps, low, rough, and she presses down harder, hips sliding against his. his jaw tightens, groan catching in his throat.
“good,” she murmurs, leaning forward, teeth grazing his jaw. “maybe you’ll learn.”
he grits his teeth, hands squeezing her hips, fingers brushing up her thigh. “oh my— stop doing that.”
“doing what?” she hisses, smirking, pressing harder.
he groans, chest hitching. “that,” he rasps, grabbing her tighter, rocking back against the seat. “you’re… you’re insane.”
“yeah, well, you’re not any better,” she shoots back, lips pressing to his.
he laughs breathless against her, tilting his head, fingers digging in. “i’m not gonna survive this. survive you,” he mutters, voice thick, groaning as she presses against him again.
they fumble toward the door, stumbling, bodies pressed flush. he wraps one arm around her waist, lifts slightly, adjusting so she’s still on him, her hands tangled in his hair, jaw, dragging him down to her mouth.
“percy—” she pants, pressing against him, lips and teeth colliding, moving just enough to make him hitch his breath.
“you’re so… gods, you’re so beautiful when you get like this.”
“don’t say shit like that,” she snaps. he can feel the sharpness of her breath on his skin.
“can’t help it.”
she smirks, just a little, gasping against him, rocking once, feeling every groan, every hitch, every press of his chest against hers.
they hit the ground, still pressed together, stumbling toward the back of the car. lips, teeth, hands, hair—it’s messy, chaotic, and she can feel how undone he is because of her. he mutters something rough that she doesn’t quite hear, and she presses down again, leaning fully into him while gripping his face with both hands.
he practically throws her onto the backseat and she lands with a sharp breath, jacket catching on the seat for a split second before she rips it free, tossing it aside without thinking. the second it’s off, he’s on her, chest pressing hers into the cushion, arms bracing on either side of her head.
“you’re pathetic,” she mutters under her breath, teeth grazing his jaw as she laughs breathless.
“say that again,” he hisses, low, voice rough, lips brushing hers in a sharp kiss that leaves their teeth knocking, and his hands tighten around her waist, pressing her flush against him.
“pathetic,” she says again, louder this time, letting it roll off like a challenge. his grin is feral as he presses one hand sliding along her side, fingers brushing against her ribs, the other gripping her hip. she jerks slightly, gasping, pressing back, nails catching lightly in his shoulders. he can’t help but stare at her reaction.
“don’t look at me like that,” she mutters against his mouth.
“like what?” he says, already kissing her again, rougher, impatient.
“like you’re gonna do something stupid.”
he pulls back just enough to smirk. “you climbed back here with me.”
“you dragged me,” she fires back.
he shifts his weight deliberately, pressing her deeper into the seat. “you didn’t fight very hard.”
her breath hitches despite herself. she shoves at his chest, more reflex than intent. “get off me, seaweed brain.”
he laughs. “you don’t mean that.”
she lifts her head just enough to bite his jaw. “i might.”
his hands slide to her waist, fingers digging in like he’s grounding himself. “you’re mean.”
“you love it when i’m mean,” she says, leaning in until her lips brush his ear. “don’t lie.”
his hand flexes. “you’re gonna regret saying that.”
“promise?” she says sweetly.
he kisses her again, harder, like he’s punishing her for it. her hands slide into his hair, pulling until he groans against her mouth. the rain is deafening now, the car fogged and rocking and entirely theirs.
she pulls back just enough to look at him. really look.
his shirt is still on.
that won’t do.
she drags a hand down his chest, fingers curling in the fabric. “that shirt’s doing you no favors.”
he blinks. “what?”
“take it off.”
no hesitation. not even a smart comment.
he sits back just enough to yank it over his head and toss it somewhere behind them, eyes never leaving her. his chest is flushed, breath still uneven.
she smirks. “wow. that was fast.”
he leans back over her immediately. “don’t get used to it.”
she laughs, breathless, pulling him back down by the back of his neck. “too late.”
one hand stays firm at her waist, the other sliding lower along her side, thumb brushing her pelvis for just a second.
she jerks, sharp inhale. “hey—”
he freezes instantly. “too much?”
the pause hits her harder than the touch.
she stares at him, then scoffs, breathless. “don’t get all noble now.”
his jaw tightens. “i’m serious.”
she shifts, deliberately pressing back into him. “i said don’t stop.”
that’s permission enough.
his hand slides lower, tracing the curve of her hips, fingers slipping just under the waistband of her pants. she arches instinctively, her breath hitching. he hums against her mouth, low and approving, letting his other hand roam her back, pressing her flush against him.
her nails dig into the skin of his shoulders, tugging him closer, and he groans, low, caught between frustration and desire. “you’re killing me,” he mutters, voice thick, almost strangled. “you have no idea.”
she smirks, presses a knee between his legs just enough to tease, her breath hot against his ear. “i think i do,” she whispers. “you’re going wild.”
“you—” he starts, teeth grazing her shoulder, lips dragging along her neck. his fingers slide farther under her waistband, brushing skin in a way that makes her gasp, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, lips colliding with his again.
just as he’s about to go lower, a sharp, loud ringtone slices through the heat of the car. the music of their chaos is replaced by a cold, insistent beep. they freeze, bodies still pressed together, her chest rising and falling against his.
the phone blares again, blue light flashing across the fogged windshield. he swears under his breath, trying to reach it without moving too much, but in the panic his elbow nudges her side. she hisses, instinctively rolling against him, breath sharp.
“who the hell is that?” she asks, trying to catch her breath, voice husky, hand brushing his chest as if to steady herself — or maybe him.
“shit,” he mutters again, fumbling blindly. one wrong swipe and he hits answer instead of decline.
the bluetooth crackles, and frank’s voice fills the car, bright and oblivious.
“hey, guys! where are you? we’re—”
percy scrambles to press the buttons. “uh… hey, frank,” he says, trying to keep it casual, but his voice is tight, rough. he swallows, shifting slightly so annabeth isn’t leaning into him like she was.
“yeah, we’re… stuck in traffic,” he blurts. “moving slowly… we’ll be there in a little.”
percy groans, pressing a hand to his face. he can feel her tense beside him, the tension of them evaporating instantly into awareness.
“oh gods,” she mutters, pulling her hands back reluctantly, chest still flushed against his.
“uh, okay,” frank says, oblivious. “don’t want to make you rush—just, you know, give us a heads up if you’re gonna be late.”
“will do,” percy says quickly, fumbling with the phone to hang up. the ringtone stops. the engine hums. the rain beats the roof.
the sudden interruption leaves a crack in the heat that had been spiraling between them.
percy jerks back slightly, brushing a hand over his face like he’s trying to erase the memory of what was happening. annabeth exhales through her nose, a sharp, frustrated laugh that isn’t quite amused.
she sits up, shoulders back, pulling her jacket from the seat beside her, fingers brushing over wet fabric. “we should—” she starts, voice low, and then cuts it off, shaking her head.
“yeah,” percy mutters, tugging at the hem of his shirt, which is now clinging from rain and heat, and slowly sliding it over his head. he runs a hand through his hair, glancing at her, eyes dark, frustrated, still buzzing with what had just been.
she watches him for a beat, expression tight, chest heaving slightly. then she swings her legs over the edge of the seat, sliding into her shoes, hands busy with the laces. “we… need to get back to reality,” she says, biting the inside of her cheek, just enough to keep her from smirking too much.
percy grunts, tugging on the edge of his shirt and finally shrugging it back into place. “reality,” he echoes, voice thick. “fuckin’ fantastic.”
she doesn’t answer, just pulls her hair back from her face, eyes flicking toward the door, then back at him. the storm outside is still relentless, rain hammering the roof, puddles forming on the asphalt. it’s like the world had been left behind, but they’re tethered back to it by the phone, the call, the obligations waiting for them.
he moves closer, brushing a hand along her back—not the teasing, possessive touch from before, just a grounding, quiet touch, letting her know he’s still here. she leans into it, letting her head brush his shoulder for a second, just long enough to remember how charged the air between them still is.
when they slide into the front seats, their bodies are still damp. their clothes are sticking and their hair is messy. percy’s hands grip the wheel a little too tight, knuckles pale, jaw locked. annabeth sits turned slightly toward him, arms crossed and shoulders hunched, knees drawn in. neither says anything for a beat. the rain thrums against the roof, relentless, the windshield wipers squealing in protest.
finally, she mutters, “we need to… figure this out.”
he exhales sharply, hand drumming the wheel. “yeah,” he says, voice rough. “we do.”
she shifts, just enough to brush her shoulder against his. it’s not intentional, not really, but the air between them sparks immediately.
“you’re still… worked up,” he says quietly, eyes on the road.
“i’m not,” she snaps, voice sharp, but her chest rises faster than usual. “maybe a little.”
he hums, low, one corner of his mouth twitching. “thought so.”
she glares at him, but the smirk that threatens the corner of her lips betrays her. “you’re ridiculous,” she mutters.
“you like it when i notice,” he says, tone low, teasing.
she breathes through her nose sharply. “keep telling yourself that, perce,” she fires back, though she shifts in her seat again, the smallest touch against him, a spark neither can ignore.
“we can’t keep doing… whatever that was,” she says quietly, looking out the window, voice catching. “it’s too much.”
“too much?” he scoffs softly. “you mean it’s what we both want and can’t admit.”
she bites her lip, eyes flicking to the streaked rain outside. “it’s not just that,” she says. “it’s… dangerous.”
he glances at her, jaw tightening. “so what? we stop talking, stop… feeling?”
she exhales, frustrated. “you’re not helping.”
he shrugs one shoulder. “maybe we start by admitting you’re still thinking about it.”
she flushes, eyes dropping. “maybe i am,” she whispers. “don’t make it a thing.”
“too late,” he mutters, eyes glinting. “it already is.”
they sit in the whirring of the engine, rain lashing the roof. silence presses, heavy, thick, awkward. both of them aware of the almost, the things they almost did, the chaos they barely restrained.
he glances at her again, catching her chest rising, the tension in her jaw. “you’re still mad,” he murmurs.
“i’m not,” she says quickly, tone sharp, though her hand brushes against his on the console, brief, unintentional.
“sure,” he mutters, smirk faint, leaning a fraction closer. “mad.”
she rolls her eyes, pretending. “fine,” she admits quietly, voice tight. “maybe a little.”
he lets the corners of his mouth twitch, eyes dark, thoughtful. “we’ll fix this,” he murmurs. his hand hovers near hers again, not touching, but the air around them sparks.
she exhales, brushing her hair back from her face, chest rising and falling unevenly. “we better,” she says, voice tight. her gaze flicks to him, catching his for a second too long.
neither moves. neither speaks. just the car, the rain, and them, suspended in the aftermath. and both of them know it’s only a matter of time before they have to figure out exactly what that means.