Work Text:
It was a lovely evening, especially for Annabeth.
Dates weren’t exactly a regular occurrence when your life involved monsters, ancient prophecies, and near-death experiences. But tonight? Tonight felt… normal.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked this nice. Actual makeup brushed carefully over her cheeks. The silver necklace Sally had gifted her resting against her collarbone. The faint scent of perfume clinging to her skin instead of monster dust.
It felt strange.
Good strange.
And Percy? She couldn’t remember seeing him this happy in a long time. The weight he’d been carrying since Tartarus, since everything, seemed lighter somehow. Maybe believing they were finally done with quests did that to a person. Maybe being able to take your girlfriend on a stupidly simple date felt like a miracle when you’d spent years fighting for your lives.
Coney Island had never looked so perfect. Cheap pizza. Bright lights. The distant screaming from roller coasters.
What could possibly scare them after Tartarus?
“You know what I think?” Percy said, squinting up at the towering roller coaster as he wiped grease from his fingers with a napkin. “I think if you ride that right after finishing this, you’re not keeping it down.”
Annabeth gave a dramatic gasp, pressing a hand to her chest. “You underestimate me.”
“Do I?” Percy grinned, that familiar, infuriating grin he’d used on her for years. The one that said I’m about to annoy you on purpose.
“I’m pretty sure you’d start screaming first. I’m fine with everything, as long as—”
“Spiders,” Percy finished gently.
Annabeth’s expression shifted. Just slightly. The humor drained, replaced by something tighter. She gave a small shudder, arms folding instinctively.
The sounds of Coney Island blurred for a second, laughter, music, metal tracks rattling overhead.
Percy’s grin faded. He set his pizza down a little too carefully.
“Did it… get worse? After—”
She nodded before he could finish.
“I thought I’d grow out of it,” she admitted quietly. “Or that facing it would fix it. But it just… didn’t.” Her fingers curled against the table. “I still hear her voice sometimes. And the smell—” She swallowed. “It’s like it never left.”
Percy didn’t hesitate this time. He reached across the table and laced their fingers together, squeezing firmly , grounding, solid.
“You have me,” he said, softer now. No joking. No bravado. “That won’t happen again. Not while I’m here.”
And he meant it. Not in the reckless way he used to. In the steady way.
Annabeth studied him for a second, really looked at him. The wind lifted his dark hair, brushing it into his eyes. He’d actually tried to tame it tonight, which made it worse somehow. Softer. Sea-green eyes bright under the carnival lights.
She smiled back.
“Okay,” she said. “Topic change. We are not doing trauma on pizza night.”
Percy brightened instantly. “Agreed. Trauma is banned. Highly illegal.”
“You look really beautiful tonight,” he added, a bit more awkward now. “I kind of feel ugly next to you, you know?”
She blinked. “You? Ugly?”
He nodded solemnly. “Yeah. I didn’t even bring perfume. I still smell like… ocean and regret.”
Annabeth laughed, that real, unguarded one.
And she did look beautiful. Her blond curls spilled over her shoulders in soft waves, catching the lights from the rides. Her sharp grey eyes had that bright spark they only carried when she felt safe enough to relax. The small owl earrings her father had given her glinted when she tilted her head. The white blouse was simple, but on her, it felt intentional. Different from camp shirts and armor and survival.
Percy reached up and gently tapped her cheek. “Seriously, though. You’re unfair.”
She caught his hand before he could pull away.
“You cleaned up too,” she said, brushing her thumb along his knuckles. “Your hair is almost behaving.”
“Almost,” he repeated, mock offended.
The roller coaster screamed overhead.
They both looked up.
“Race you?” Percy challenged.
Annabeth stood first.
“You’re paying if you throw up.”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The line for the roller coaster snaked around the platform, full of teenagers trying to act brave and parents already regretting their life choices.
Percy leaned against the railing, eyeing the towering structure above them. “Last chance to back out.”
Annabeth scoffed. “From that? Please. I’ve seen worse architecture.”
“Architecture?” Percy repeated. “You’re critiquing the roller coaster?”
“It’s inefficient. Too much unnecessary flair.”
Right then, a cart screamed down the drop and someone shrieked loud enough to be heard three states away.
Percy nodded thoughtfully. “Ah yes. Very inefficient.”
Annabeth bumped his shoulder. “You’re just scared.”
“I am not scared.”
“You’re absolutely scared.”
“I fought Ares.”
“You tripped over your own shoelace yesterday.”
“That was sabotage.”
“By who?”
“You.”
They were still arguing when the attendant waved them forward.
The safety bar came down with a heavy clunk.
Percy grinned at her. “If you scream, I’m recording it mentally forever.”
“If you scream, I’m telling Piper that you cried.”
“That’s low.”
The coaster lurched forward.
Click.
Click.
Click.
The climb began.
Wind tugged at Annabeth’s curls as the boardwalk grew smaller beneth them. The ocean stretched out in glittering darkness, carnival lights flashing below like scattered jewels.
Percy glanced over. “You good?”
She gave him a look. “Focus on yourself.”
“Oh, I am. I’m mentally preparing my victory speech.”
“For what?”
“For surviving with dignity.”
The cart reached the top.
They had half a second to look at each other.
Then they dropped.
Annabeth’s stomach flipped violently and she let out a sharp yell, immediately turning it into a laugh. Percy’s shout blended with hers.
The coaster twisted hard. Percy’s shoulder slammed into hers.
“This is nothing!” he yelled over the wind.
“You sound terrified!”
“No!”
The ride whipped them into another sharp turn, then a sudden dip that nearly launched Percy out of his seat.
Annabeth grabbed his hand, not because she needed to. Obviously not.
“Strategic holding?” Percy shouted.
“Shut up!”
The wind flattened Percy’s hair in one direction, then the other. Annabeth’s laughter turned breathless as the coaster barreled through another spiral.
For a split second, upside down, Percy grinned at her like an absolute menace.
“This is a children’s ride?!” he yelled.
“I stand by it!”
The final drop hit harder than expected, dragging another involuntary scream out of both of them.
The brakes screeched.
The coaster rolled back into the station, slowing gradually.
Silence rushed in, broken only by their uneven breathing.
Percy turned to her, eyes bright, cheeks flushed, hair a complete disaster.
“So,” he said, trying and failing to sound calm, “who screamed first?”
Annabeth released his hand slowly. “You.”
“That was a fun scream.”
“That was fear.”
“No!”
“You terrified a toddler.”
Percy gasped. “Slander.”
The safety bar lifted.
Annabeth stood immediately, legs wobbling for half a second before she straightened.
Percy noticed.
He did not comment.
Because he valued his life.
“Again?” he challenged.
She narrowed her eyes.
“Double or nothing.”
Round two hit them the same way, same adrenaline, same screaming, same ridiculous taunting.
They stumbled of the ride laughing, hair wrecked, legs slightly unreliable.
“You know,” Percy said between breaths, handing Annabeth another napkin, “I did tell you not to finish that slice before getting on.”
Annabeth shot him a glare, dabbing at her mouth. “Shut up. It was an accident. And at least I didn’t scream like you. That was my stomach’s fault. Not my pride.”
“I screamed to make you feel better.”
“Yeah. Right.”
They burst into laughter again, easy, careless.
Then Percy stopped.
Mid-smile.
Annabeth frowned. “Wha—what?”
She followed his gaze.
And froze.
“Is that… Mom?”
On a bench a short distance away sat Athena.
Perfect posture. Chin lifted. Hands folded neatly in her lap. Her long dark hair spilled down her back. Even in a simple white T-shirt and jeans, paired with sharp high-heeled boots, she looked completely out of place.
Otherworldly. Untouchable.
Percy leaned closer to Annabeth. “Maybe I should run.”
Annabeth gave him an incredulous look. “What?”
“She’s probably here to murder me.”
“She is not.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t,” Annabeth admitted. “But she wouldn’t.”
“She hates me.”
Annabeth hesitated.
“She… yeah, she kind of hates you.”
“Great.”
Still, she grabbed his sleeve and tugged him forward. “Come on.”
Percy looked like a man walking toward his execution, but he followed.
Facing an angry mother who was also a goddess wasn’t new territory. Athena’s disapproving looks alone could reduce a battlefield to silence. Percy was entirely certain that if she ever truly decided to fight him, he wouldn’t last ten seconds.
Especially not when her “pup”, her daughter, was involved.
“Mother,” Annabeth called.
Athena’s gaze shifted to them.
It landed on Percy first.
Sharp. Measuring.
He stood straighter without meaning to.
Then her eyes softened, noticeably, when they settled on Annabeth.
“My dear.”
She rose gracefully as Annabeth stepped forward and they embraced. Percy suddenly felt about twelve years old.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” Annabeth said.
“You didn’t inform me you weren't going to be at your dorm,” Athena replied calmly.
“Why would I need to?”
“Am I not your mother?”
“You are, but you’re also a goddess.”
Athena exhaled softly, choosing not to argue. Instead, she studied Annabeth more closely.
“Are you well? You look a bit-”
Annabeth flushed slightly. “I’m fine. Just pizza and poor timing.”
Athena’s lips thinned faintly. She produced a clean napkin from her pocket, because of course she had one, and handed it to her daughter.
“Was that a strategic decision?”
“No,” Annabeth muttered.
Percy stared at the napkin like it had appeared through sorcery. Which, technically—
“Why are you here?” Annabeth asked. “I didn’t know you were the carnival-fun kind of goddess.”
“I am not,” Athena said immediately. “It is excessively loud.” Her eyes flicked briefly toward the screaming rides. “I simply sensed you nearby. I wished to ensure none of my siblings had involved you in something unpleasant.”
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
“You appear… content.”
Annabeth nodded. “It’s just a date.”
“Date,” Athena repeated, tasting the word like it was a strategic variable.
Her attention shifted back to Percy.
He swallowed.
“Perseus,” she said evenly. “Still trespassing into brunches?”
He went red instantly. “No, ma’am. That was… one-time event.”
“Good.”
She stepped closer, not threatening, but enough to remind him she could be.
“Do not require me to save you again,"
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And,” she added, voice lowering slightly, “ensure my daughter is not upset, look after her. I am aware when she—”
“Mom!” Annabeth interrupted.
Percy’s blush deepened.
Athena paused.
Then sighed, just slightly.
“Very well. For you.”
She reached into her pocket once more and withdrew a sleek black card, handing it to Annabeth.
“What is this?” Annabeth asked carefully.
“My credit card. Unlimited. Enjoy yourselves as mortals tend to.”
Percy blinked.
Annabeth blinked.
Athena’s expression softened, only for her daughter.
“You deserve ease.”
Annabeth smiled, warmth replacing embarrassment. “Thank you, Mother.”
Percy quickly added, “Thank you, Lady Athena.”
Athena gave him one last assessing look., then turned back to her daughter.
“Do not overindulge before mechanical contraptions again.”
Annabeth giggled. “I won’t.”
Athena pulled her into one final hug, then stepped back.
Golden light shimmered around her. They closed their eyes and she was gone.
Silence lingered for half a second.
Percy slowly turned to Annabeth.
“So,” he said carefully, “unlimited?”
Annabeth looked down at the card.
Then up at him.
A slow grin spread across her face.
“Unlimited.”
Percy grinned back.
They grabbed hands and ran toward the lights, laughter chasing them down the boardwalk, two kids who had survived the end of the world and were determined, for once, to just enjoy being seventeen.