Chapter Text
Annabeth wasn’t the nervous type.
She’d faced dracaenae twice her size without flinching. She’d walked straight toward a charging hellhound with nothing but a knife and a plan forming in her head. Strategy steadied her. Danger made sense.
A boy, apparently, did not.
Valentine’s Day was three days away. Camp Half-Blood had leaned fully into it this year. There were paper hearts strung between the dining pavilion beams, pink and gold ribbons tied around the torch posts, and some Apollo campers had been playing slow songs at dinner instead of their usual obnoxiously loud music. There was a couples archery competition, a stargazing night at the canoe lake, and a pasta making class. There was also a dance.
And Percy had said absolutely nothing. Not a joke. Not a sarcastic comment. Not even a confused why is everyone acting weird?
Which was worse.
He’d been at camp for nearly a week now, technically he was supposed to be in school, but he’d gotten suspended for two weeks after a… misunderstanding that definitely involved water, a broken bathroom pipe, and a teacher who now apparently refused to be within ten feet of him. Instead of spending fourteen miserable days stuck inside his mom’s tiny city apartment, Percy had convinced Sally to let him stay at camp until the suspension was over.
So he was here. Available. Present.
And still oblivious.
Annabeth sat at the Athena table, pushing a strawberry around her plate with the edge of her fork. The pavilion smelled like roasted meat and woodsmoke, but she barely noticed. Her attention kept drifting, pulled across the pavilion whether she wanted it to or not.
Percy was sitting at the Poseidon table with Tyson, who had come back to camp for a few days after Poseidon gave him leave from the forges. Percy was laughing at something Tyson said, head tipped back, shoulders relaxed in a way Annabeth hadn’t seen in a while.
He looked… happy. And completely unaware.
Her stomach twisted. She looked away quickly, then immediately looked back, like she couldn’t help it. Her fork scraped loudly against her plate. She didn’t even realize half her cabin had already stood up and left for the evening activities until one of the torches flickered and she noticed the empty benches around her.
Great. Now she was just sitting here staring.
Annabeth exhaled sharply, grabbed her plate, and stood. She made it three steps toward the exit before a hand seized her wrist and yanked her sideways out the back door.
Cool evening air hit her face. The door shut behind her with a thud.
Clarisse leaned against it, arms crossed tight over her chest, scanning the pavilion like she’d just executed a stealth mission. Only when she was sure nobody was looking did she turn back.
She raised an eyebrow. “What gives?”
“What?” Annabeth blinked, still adjusting to the sudden quiet. The distant crash of waves against the shore carried through the trees, along with faint laughter from campers heading toward the arena.
Clarisse gestured vaguely at her face. “The staring. The sighing. The whole tragic heroine routine.”
“I do not—”
“The long looks, the sad face,” Clarisse cut in flatly. “It’s disgusting. You two are gonna make me throw up.”
Annabeth frowned. “Is this your way of asking if I’m okay?”
Clarisse didn’t answer immediately. Her jaw flexed. She looked away toward the trees, kicking a loose pebble across the dirt.
“…And if Percy’s okay?” Annabeth added slowly.
Clarisse huffed. “I didn’t want to ask him,” she muttered. “But yes.”
Annabeth studied her for a second. Clarisse’s tone was annoyed, but she hadn’t left. She was still standing in front of the door like a guard, making sure nobody overheard.
“He’s fine,” Annabeth said quietly. “It was just a suspension.”
Clarisse snorted. “Yeah, I heard. Rang the fire alarm, flooded a hallway, fought a teacher—”
“He didn’t fight a teacher.”
Clarisse tilted her head. “Then why does everyone keep saying the teacher slipped into a trash can?”
Annabeth hesitated. “…There was a lot of water involved.”
“Of course there was.” Clarisse rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Idiot can’t go a week without causing a natural disaster.”
Annabeth leaned back against the wall, the wood cool through her shirt. For a moment she just listened to the clatter of dishes from inside, waves in the distance, Percy’s voice faint through the door. Her fingers tightened around the edge of her plate.
“…I need a favor,” she said.
Clarisse immediately frowned. “No.”
“You don’t even know what it is.”
“If it involves feelings, talking, or pretending to be nice, the answer is still no.”
Annabeth hesitated — which, for her, was rare enough that Clarisse noticed.
Clarisse narrowed her eyes. “Oh gods. It does involve him.”
Annabeth exhaled. “I just need you to… talk to him.”
Clarisse stared at her. “Absolutely not.”
“Clarisse—”
“No,” she said flatly. “I’m not interrogating your boyfriend.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Exactly. Not getting involved.”
Annabeth stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I’m not asking you to interrogate him. Just… figure out what he’s planning. If he’s planning anything.”
Clarisse crossed her arms tighter. “Why would I do that?”
“Because he’ll actually talk to you,” Annabeth said. “He won’t suspect anything. You spar with him. You argue with him. He won’t think you’re asking for me.”
Clarisse gave her a long, incredulous look. “You want me to spy on Percy Jackson.”
Annabeth winced. “…Yes.”
“Why.”
“Because I don’t know if he—” She stopped, jaw tightening. “I don’t know if he’s going to ask me to the Valentine’s thing. Or if he even wants to. And I’m not going to humiliate myself by asking first.”
Clarisse barked a quiet laugh. “You’ve fought a hydra and you’re afraid of a conversation.”
“It’s different.”
“How?”
Annabeth looked toward the door. Percy’s laugh drifted through the wood again, softer this time, closer. Her chest tightened.
“Because monsters are predictable,” she said quietly. “He isn’t.”
Clarisse followed her gaze, then looked back at her. The irritation in her expression faded into something closer to reluctant understanding.
“…So you want me to casually ask him if he’s planning something romantic,” she said.
“Not like that,” Annabeth said quickly. “Just—feel it out. Bring up Valentine’s Day. See what he says. If he mentions me. Or doesn’t.”
Clarisse rubbed her temple. “I cannot believe I’m being recruited into Athena cabin espionage.”
“You owe me,” Annabeth said.
Clarisse blinked. “For what?”
“For not telling anyone you fell into the canoe lake trying to fight the naiad last summer.”
Clarisse’s eyes narrowed immediately. “…You wouldn’t.”
“I would.”
A long pause.
Clarisse sighed, long and suffering. “Fine. But if he notices, I’m blaming you.”
“You won’t get caught.”
“I fight monsters,” Clarisse muttered. “Not teenage boy emotions.”
“Please,” Annabeth said, softer now.
Clarisse looked at her again, really looked, and saw the tension she was trying to hide, the way her fingers kept flexing at her sides.
“…Gods, you’re both hopeless,” she muttered.
The back door handle rattled.
Both girls froze.
Clarisse instantly stepped away from the wall. “I’ll do it later,” she whispered quickly. “Not tonight. He’ll suspect something.”
“Clarisse—”
“Relax,” she said, already backing toward the shadows around the building. “I’ll talk to him during training tomorrow.”
She slipped around the corner just as the door opened.
Percy stepped out into the torchlight, pausing when he saw Annabeth standing there alone.
“…Hey,” he said, a little uncertainly.
Annabeth’s brain immediately forgot every intelligent thought it had ever produced.
“Hi,” she said, a second too late.
Percy pushed the door shut behind him with his heel. The torchlight flickered across his face and for a moment he just stood there, like he was trying to figure out if he’d interrupted something.
“Uh… were you talking to someone?” he asked, glancing toward the corner of the building.
Annabeth stepped slightly in front of where Clarisse had disappeared. “No.”
Percy squinted. “I could’ve sworn I heard—”
“You didn’t.”
“…Okay.” He scratched the back of his neck, still unconvinced but deciding not to push it. “You left pretty fast.”
Annabeth realized she was still holding her plate. She immediately set it on the nearest barrel, far too carefully. “I was just getting air.”
“Right.” Percy nodded, rocking once on his heels. “Yeah. Me too.”
They stood there.
The quiet stretched. The waves rolled against the shore. Somewhere down the hill an Apollo camper hit a wrong note on a guitar.
Percy glanced at her, then away. Then back again.
“So,” he said. “Camp’s… different right now.”
Annabeth followed his gaze to the pavilion windows. Pink paper hearts hung crookedly in the torchlight.
“Yes,” she said carefully.
Percy shoved his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t know camp did… this.”
“Normally it doesn’t,” she replied. “The Aphrodite cabin had a lot of influence this year.”
He nodded like this was extremely serious information. “Makes sense. I almost got glitter on my sword earlier.”
Annabeth smiled before she could stop herself. “A tragedy.”
“Almost didn’t recover.”
Another pause, but this one softer.
Percy looked like he was trying to say something. His eyebrows pulled together slightly, and he opened his mouth, then closed it again.
Annabeth waited.
Say it, she willed silently. Just say anything.
Instead he said, “Are you going to the… thing? Tonight. The archery thing.”
Her stomach dropped a little. “Maybe.”
“Oh.” He nodded, looking at the ground. “Cool.”
Neither of them moved.
Annabeth could practically hear Clarisse yelling at her from wherever she was hiding.
“So are you?” she asked.
Percy looked back up. “Yeah. I mean, maybe. Tyson wants to see the targets explode if the Apollo kids get competitive.”
“That sounds about right.”
“Yeah.”
Another silence. Percy shifted his weight, then glanced toward the path, then back to her, like he was losing his nerve in real time.
Annabeth felt her pulse in her throat.
He was going to say it.
He took a breath. “I was—”
The pavilion door burst open.
“PERCY!”
Tyson leaned halfway out the doorway, waving enthusiastically. “They are lighting arrows on fire! You will like it!”
Percy squeezed his eyes shut for half a second.
“…I’m gonna go before he comes out here,” he muttered.
Annabeth nodded, trying not to look disappointed. “Right.”
He hesitated though. He didn’t move. His eyes flicked back to her, uncertain.
“Hey, Annabeth?”
“Yes?”
He almost said it again — she could see it. The words were right there.
Instead he rubbed the back of his neck. “You… uh… you’re good, right?”
Her chest tightened. “I’m good.”
He nodded, relief and something else mixing on his face. “Okay. Good.”
Tyson called again from inside.
Percy backed toward the door, still looking at her. “I’ll— I’ll see you later?”
“…Yeah,” she said quietly. “Later.”
He gave a small, crooked smile and disappeared back inside.
The door shut.
Annabeth stood there for several seconds after the torch beside her popped softly.
From around the corner, Clarisse slowly leaned her head out.
“…You two are painful to watch,” she said.
Annabeth didn’t even turn around. She kept staring at the closed door like if she looked hard enough Percy might walk back out and fix the last two minutes.
“I hate you,” she said flatly.
Clarisse stepped fully out from behind the corner, folding her arms. “For what? I wasn’t the one who just had the easiest setup in history and still didn’t say anything.”
“He was about to.”
“He was about to not,” Clarisse corrected. “He asked if you were ‘good.’ That’s not a confession. That’s what you say to someone who just fell down the stairs.”
Annabeth finally turned to her. “You distracted me!”
“I didn’t even do anything.”
“You were lurking!”
“I was observing,” Clarisse said. “Big difference.”
Annabeth pressed her palms over her face, groaning softly. “He was going to ask. I know he was.”
Clarisse shrugged. “Then he’ll do it tomorrow.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“Then you ask him.”
Annabeth dropped her hands immediately. “No.”
Clarisse stared at her. “You’re kidding.”
“I am not asking Percy Jackson to a Valentine’s event.”
“You literally plan battle strategies.”
“Yes. Against monsters. Not—” she gestured vaguely toward the pavilion “—this.”
Clarisse walked closer, lowering her voice. “You want the truth?”
Annabeth hesitated. “…No.”
“Too bad.” Clarisse leaned one shoulder against the wall beside her. “He looked terrified.”
Annabeth frowned. “Of me?”
“Of getting it wrong,” Clarisse said. “You do that thing.”
“What thing?”
“The face,” Clarisse said. “The thinking face. The one where it looks like you’re already ten steps ahead and if someone says the wrong thing you’re gonna correct them and hand them a scroll explaining why they’re stupid.”
“I do not look like that.”
Clarisse raised an eyebrow.
“…Okay maybe sometimes,” Annabeth admitted reluctantly.
“Yeah. He thinks you’ll say no.”
Annabeth’s expression faltered. “Why would he think that?”
Clarisse gave her a look like it was obvious. “Because you’re you. Smartest person here, hero of multiple quests, and half the time you act like you don’t even realize he’s trying.”
Annabeth’s stomach sank a little.
“He notices everything you do,” Clarisse added. “You just don’t notice when he’s nervous.”
They fell quiet for a second, the sounds of campers drifting down the hill toward the archery field — laughter, footsteps, someone arguing loudly about flaming arrows.
Annabeth stared at the ground, thinking.
“…So you’re still going to talk to him tomorrow,” she said.
Clarisse groaned. “You’re not letting that go.”
“You promised.”
“I was emotionally manipulated.”
“You agreed.”
Clarisse dragged a hand down her face. “Fine. I’ll spar him in the morning and bring it up.”
“Casually,” Annabeth said quickly.
“I don’t do anything casually.”
“Please try.”
Clarisse shook her head. “If I somehow end up discussing romance with Percy Jackson at seven in the morning, I’m blaming you for the psychological damage.”
Annabeth almost smiled.
“Just figure out if he has plans,” she said. “That’s all.”
Clarisse pushed off the wall. “Go to the archery thing tonight.”
Annabeth blinked. “Why?”
“Because if you both avoid each other, you’ll both assume the other one doesn’t care,” Clarisse said. “At least make him nervous in person.”
“That’s terrible advice.”
“It’s effective advice.”
Clarisse started down the path, then stopped and looked back at her.
“And Annabeth?”
Annabeth looked up.
“If he does ask,” Clarisse said, “don’t overthink it.”
She walked off toward the arena, leaving Annabeth alone outside the pavilion, heart beating much faster than it had during any sword fight.