Chapter Text
Percy has seen Annabeth frustrated before. Plenty of times, in fact. They've known each other for years already, and have been in too many life-or-death situations for him to not have seen any negative emotions from her.
He just hates when they're directed towards him.
Today, it feels different. It's more intense than some other conversations they've had. The air around them on the tetherball court is heavy, weighing over their conversation like a dense fog.
Tensions rise way too quickly while they talk about battle strategy and prophetic dreams. Though, Percy supposes, those things aren't exactly the sunshine and rainbows conversations most people prefer to have with their friends.
The sound of Annabeth throwing down her inspection scroll startles Percy a bit. She steps closer to him as her voice raises; emotional and coated in pain.
"I knew we shouldn't have shown you the prophecy!" She barks a bitter laugh. "You're too scared. And all you do is run away when you're scared."
"Me?" Percy questions. "Run away? All I do is run away?"
There's been too many times where Percy has decidedly not run away from danger. In fact, it feels like he willingly, or maybe begrudgingly is the better word sometimes, steps into scary situations, despite how afraid he is.
She steps even closer, having to crane her neck up to keep holding her intense gaze onto him. Her eyes are red rimmed and shiny, like she's trying not to cry.
"Yes," Annabeth grits out. "You." She pushes up on her toes, leaning further into him with each word. They're basically nose to nose.
"Annabeth, I—"
"You," she interjects, "Percy Jackson, "are a coward."
And when those words settle around them, it hits Percy that maybe they're not just about the prophecy.
Percy doesn't fail to notice how shaky the words are when they leave her lips. She breathes heavily as they both still for few seconds that somehow simultaneously feels like a few hours. His heart pounds. She's still so close. Her hair still smells like lemons.
He doesn't know what overtakes him, he knows it's not the time for this, but he feels his gaze shift from her wet brown eyes down to her full lips that are quivering slightly.
He tries to ignore that her eyes flit from his eyes and down to his lips too.
They're so close.
He tries to ignore the swirling in his gut as the sight of her lips so close to his throws him back into memories of last summer on Mount St. Helens when she had pulled him in hard and kissed him gently, quickly. The memories of how soft her lips were on his and how she pulled away way too fast for him to recover from the shock and kiss her back.
He so wanted to kiss her back.
"If you don't like the plan," Annabeth says quietly, ripping Percy from his memories, "and if you don't like our chances, then maybe you really should take Rachel up on that vacation."
The silence between them after she says that is loud with implication; a million words left unsaid hanging in the air between them. Percy hates it. Annabeth's not usually the type for that.
Because now he knows that she definitely wasn't talking about the prophecy seconds before.
That fact makes his stomach churn.
"Annabeth."
"It's like you don't want our company anymore." Her breath is warm against his face as she speaks. He's suddenly aware of his arms hanging lamely at his sides. He's suddenly aware that wants to hold her, to feel the warmth of her skin on his fingertips. He ignores it. It's really not the time for that.
"Tha-that's not fair. You know I don't—"
Annabeth sighs deeply to cut him off while she closes her eyes and shakes her head.
"I really," Annabeth begins. She pauses, taking a shaky breath in and exhales equally as unsteady. "I really don't want to hear it right now, Percy." She looks at him again, her gaze brushes against his lips, again. He doesn't miss it. He does the same to her.
She then attempts to take a step back from Percy.
Wait.
Don't go.
He impulsively grabs her wrist, not harshly, but with enough force to accidentally pull her back in close.
She looks down at where she's been grabbed, where their bodies meet, and then back up to Percy. She wrenches her hand out from his grip and places that hand on his chest, shoving him back just a bit.
Percy feels like there's too much distance between them.
They stare each other down. Again. Neither of them knows where to go from here.
There's a look in her eyes that makes Percy feel like Annabeth's waiting for something from him. Or considering doing something herself.
He still doesn't move. He can't bring himself to.
Annabeth makes the final call and storms past him, wordlessly. He watches as she hits the tetherball hard enough as she walks by for it to effortlessly fully spiral about the pole.
And then she's gone.
Percy stands frozen in place. Deflated. Defeated.
He never intended for this to turn out the way it did.
Ha.
Story of his entire life.