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percy wakes up in pieces.
first it’s the warmth. then the weight. then the very specific awareness that there is a whole person curled into him like gravity has decided he’s the center of it.
annabeth.
that realization comes with a quiet kind of calm, the way it always does. no surprise, no jolt. just a soft, internal oh.
he keeps his eyes closed for a few seconds longer than necessary, mostly because opening them would make it feel too official. like the day would start expecting things from him. he’s not ready for that yet.
she’s pressed against him on her side, back to his chest, tucked so neatly it’s almost impressive. her head is resting just below his collarbone, cheek warm through his shirt. her hair is loose, tangled across his chest and neck, strands caught under his chin. one arm is thrown over his ribs, hand flattened there like she put it there on purpose and forgot to pick it back up.
his arm is around her waist, hand at her lower back. it’s been there all night. he knows because it’s gone numb in that familiar, tolerable way. the kind you accept because the alternative is moving.
and moving would wake her up.
so he doesn’t.
the room is quiet in that early-morning way that feels private, like the apartment hasn’t realized it’s supposed to be loud yet. pale light filters through the curtains, not enough to hurt, just enough to outline things. the dresser. the chair with clothes slung over it. the edge of the bed.
annabeth breathes slowly. deeply. the kind of sleep she only gets when she feels safe enough to stop holding herself together.
percy stares at the ceiling and lets his thoughts drift aimlessly.
he notices small things. the way the sheet is twisted around their legs. how most of the blanket has ended up on her side, leaving his shoulder a little exposed to the cold. the faint imprint of her fingers against his shirt where she’s gripping him even in sleep.
his thumb twitches.
he stops it mid-movement.
don’t.
minutes pass. maybe more. time feels loose, stretchy. he doesn’t check his phone. doesn’t even think about checking it. whatever time it is can wait.
annabeth shifts.
just a little. not enough to wake her, but enough to make his entire body go still.
her knee slides higher over his thigh, foot brushing against his calf before settling there. she presses closer, like she’s instinctively seeking more warmth. her forehead nudges into the hollow of his throat. she exhales, long and slow, breath warm against his skin.
his jaw tightens slightly, not from tension—just from the overwhelming urge to do something. pull her closer. kiss her hair. bury his face in it and breathe her in.
he does none of that.
instead, he lets his chin rest gently against the top of her head, barely touching. his arm tightens a fraction, pressure so light it’s more suggestion than movement.
she doesn’t stir.
good.
he lets himself relax again, shoulder aching now but manageable. it’s fine. this is fine.
eventually, her breathing changes. it’s subtle, but he notices—he always notices. less deep. more uneven. closer to waking.
her fingers start to move, slow and absent, tracing the seam of his shirt like they’ve memorized the path. her grip tightens briefly, then loosens.
percy freezes again, heart thudding a little harder now.
she murmurs something incoherent, face pressing more firmly into his chest. her eyelashes flutter.
then her eyes open.
it’s gradual. unfocused at first, blinking slowly like the world is still buffering. her gaze drifts upward until it lands on his face.
she squints slightly, like she’s making sure it’s really him.
“hey,” she whispers, voice soft and scratchy with sleep.
“hi,” he says quietly. “morning.”
she blinks again, then relaxes when she fully registers where she is. her head settles back against him like she never considered moving away.
“you’re awake,” she says.
“yeah.”
“how long.”
he shrugs as much as he can without disturbing her. “not sure.”
she hums, content, and shifts just enough to get more comfortable—arm tightening around him, leg hooking more securely over his.
“why didn’t you move,” she asks, eyes already half-closed again.
“didn’t wanna wake you up.”
that earns him a small smile, lazy and fond. she tilts her head back just enough to look at him properly.
“you’re allowed to exist,” she murmurs.
he smiles. “i know. but you looked comfortable.”
she studies him for a second, like she’s deciding whether to tease him or not. then she just sighs and tucks herself closer.
“thank you,” she says, simple and sincere.
something in his chest loosens.
“anytime,” he says.
they lie there for a bit, quiet again. annabeth’s fingers resume their slow, absent movements against his shirt. percy finally lets his thumb move, tracing a small, careful circle at her back. she exhales at the touch, shoulders relaxing further.
“don’t get up,” she murmurs.
“wasn’t planning on it.”
“good.”
she nestles closer, cheek pressed flat against his chest now. her hair tickles his chin. he doesn’t move it.
“your arm’s probably asleep,” she says after a moment, more awake now.
“yeah.”
“you should move.”
he considers it. then shakes his head slightly. “nah.”
she smiles into his shirt. “you’re stubborn.”
“only about important things.”
“like being my pillow.”
“exactly.”
she laughs quietly, the sound warm and soft. her hand slides up his chest, resting over his heart.
“how’d you sleep?” she asks.
“you stole all the blankets.”
“you let me.”
“true.”
they fall quiet again, the morning stretching lazily around them. he’s staring at the ceiling. she’s staring at his face.
she pokes his ribs.
“you’re doing it again,” she says.
“doing what,” he asks.
“thinking,” she replies.
he sighs dramatically. “i can’t help it. it’s a curse.”
she pokes him again, harder this time.
he jolts. “hey.”
“stop,” she says.
“stop what.”
“being weirdly intense before noon.”
he turns his head toward her, squinting. “what time is it.”
she shrugs. “don’t know. don’t care.”
he hums approvingly and shifts so he’s facing her fully now, their knees bumping and tangling. the sheet slips again, and they both notice at the same time.
“we’re going to end up completely sideways,” annabeth says.
“already there,” he says.
she laughs quietly and tries to scoot over. he mirrors her without meaning to, moving in the same direction, so nothing actually changes.
they pause.
she looks at him.
he looks at her.
“…did you just follow me?” she asks.
“no,” he says immediately. then, softer, “okay maybe.”
she giggles, presses her face briefly into the pillow to muffle it. “you’re so weird.”
“you love me,” he says again, same tone as before. not teasing. just comfortable.
she lifts her head, smiling. “don’t get ahead of yourself.”
his mouth twitches.
her foot is cold. it slides against his shin without warning.
he yelps quietly and jerks back. “why are you like this.”
“i didn’t do it on purpose,” she says, still laughing. “i just moved.”
“your feet are weapons,” he says.
she flexes them proudly. “built-in defense mechanism.”
he reaches down and traps her ankle under his calf. “absolutely not.”
she gasps, mock-offended. “percy.”
“you’ve lost privileges,” he says.
she tries to tug free. he tightens his leg slightly, not enough to actually stop her, just enough to make it a game.
they wrestle quietly for a few seconds, all tangled limbs and stifled laughter. the bed creaks. the sheet twists further.
“we’re going to get stuck,” annabeth whispers between laughs.
“worth it,” he whispers back.
eventually she stills, breathless, forehead resting against his shoulder. he relaxes too, loosening his hold automatically.
“truce,” she says.
“temporary,” he agrees.
they lie there again, calmer now, but closer than before. annabeth’s fingers drift to his wrist, tracing the faint line where his watch usually sits.
“…where’s your watch?” she asks.
percy glances down like it surprises him too. “oh. uh. took it off.”
she shifts slightly so she can look at his wrist properly, thumb brushing over the pale line where the strap usually sits.
“you never take it off,” she says.
“yeah, i know.”
“so?” she presses.
he hesitates for half a second, then smiles like it’s obvious. “it was digging into your arm.”
her brows knit together. “what.”
“when you were sleeping,” he explains. “you were tucked right here, and every time you moved it pressed into you. i didn’t want it to wake you up.”
she stares at him.
“…so you woke yourself up,” she says slowly, “to take off your watch.”
“yeah.”
“because it might’ve bothered me.”
“yeah.”
she opens her mouth, closes it again, then exhales a quiet laugh that melts straight into something softer.
“you’re unreal,” she murmurs.
he shrugs, like this is nothing. “you were comfy.”
that does it.
she shifts closer without even thinking about it, arm tightening around his middle, cheek pressing more firmly into his chest. her fingers slide back to his wrist and lace there, deliberately now.
“you could’ve just moved,” she says.
“nah.”
“why not.”
“because you’d wake up,” he says. “and you were knocked out.”
she goes quiet at that, forehead resting against him. her thumb starts tracing small, idle shapes against his skin.
“…i’m not usually,” admits.
“i know.”
she tips her head back just enough to look at him. “how would you know?”
he smiles, soft and familiar. “i just do.”
she watches him for a second, then leans up and presses a quick kiss to his jaw—barely there, but intentional. when she settles back down, her hand stays over his heart.
they keep talking for a while without realizing anything’s off.
it’s lazy conversation, the kind that doesn’t need momentum. annabeth traces idle shapes on his wrist, half-circles and lines that don’t mean anything. percy tells her, very seriously, about a dream he had where grover tried to explain something about plants using a whiteboard. she laughs into his shoulder and says that sounds accurate. he says he woke up stressed anyway.
“you always wake up stressed,” she says.
“takes one to know one.”
“point taken.”
she shifts slightly, getting more comfortable, then pauses. her fingers still.
“wait,” she says.
“hm?”
she doesn’t answer right away. instead, she listens. really listens. her brow furrows a little, the way it does when something isn’t lining up.
“…do you hear anything?” she asks.
percy goes still, humor fading into focus. he listens too. the hum of the fridge somewhere far away. the faint rush of cars outside. nothing else.
“define anything.”
“like,” she says slowly, “anything.”
no footsteps. no voices drifting down the hall. no cabinet doors, no kettle, no low murmur of paul’s radio. no estelle padding around in socks that are too big for her, narrating her morning to no one in particular.
annabeth lifts her head again, eyes flicking toward the doorway.
“this is weird,” she says.
“is it?”
“yeah,” she says. “it’s late enough that someone should be up.”
he checks the clock this time. then his eyebrows lift.
“…oh.”
“right?”
“yeah,” he says. “okay. yeah.”
they share a look.
“my mom would’ve said something by now,” he adds. “even if it was just ‘good morning’ from the hallway.”
“and estelle would’ve barged in,” annabeth says immediately. “or at least knocked and then barged in.”
“she doesn’t knock,” he says.
“exactly.”
another second passes. the apartment stays quiet.
“so,” annabeth says carefully, “either they’re all still asleep.”
“unlikely.”
“or,” she continues, “they’re not here.”
percy exhales once. “i’ll check.”
she hums in acknowledgment, already settling back against the pillows, but the second the mattress shifts she knows she’s not going back to sleep. she listens to his footsteps fade down the hall, then to the quiet that rushes in behind them.
it’s late. she can feel it in her body now—too awake, too alert.
“yeah,” she murmurs to herself.
she pushes the covers back and stands, stretching her arms over her head before she fully registers she’s doing it. the floor is cool under her feet. she shivers slightly, tugging the hem of her shirt down like it’ll help.
she’s smoothing her hair into something less disastrous when she hears him coming back.
the door opens.
percy stops short when he sees her standing there, barefoot, hair a mess, blinking sleep out of her eyes like she didn’t just wake up wrapped around him.
“oh,” he says, automatic. “hi.”
“hi,” she replies. “well?”
he crosses the room without answering, hands sliding easily to her waist like they’ve done it a thousand times before. his thumbs hook there, grounding, familiar. he leans in just enough that their foreheads almost touch.
“they’re not home,” he says quietly.
“at all?”
“nope. no mom. no paul. no estelle.”
she processes that for a second, eyes flicking toward the hallway. then back to him.
“…huh.”
his hands shift slightly, absent, like he’s making sure she’s really there. “you didn’t wait.”
“you took too long.”
he snorts. “i was gone for thirty seconds.”
“felt longer,” she says, entirely serious.
that makes him smile. he dips his head, brushing his nose against her temple before resting his forehead against hers.
“so,” he says. “it’s just us.”
“apparently.”
the quiet presses in again, more noticeable now that they’re standing in it together.
he slides his hands down her waist just a little, letting her feel the warmth of his fingers against her hips. she turns slightly, tilting her head up toward him, hair falling loose around her face.
“bathroom?” she asks softly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“bathroom,” he echoes, letting go reluctantly and stepping back. she stretches quietly, yawning, and he watches, amusement tugging at his lips.
they walk down the hall side by side, shoulders brushing every few steps. the apartment is still so quiet it feels almost sacred, like it’s pausing just for them. percy notices the small sounds—the soft squeak of his socks against the hardwood, the faint hum of the fridge—and the way annabeth’s footsteps are careful, deliberate, like she doesn’t want to break the silence.
in the bathroom, she starts rummaging through the cabinet, pulling out her toothbrush, cleanser, and all the little bottles she likes in a neat row. percy squeezes toothpaste onto his brush, glancing at her.
“you really need all that stuff every morning?” he asks, trying not to smile too much.
she grins at him over the sink. “yes. you could use some,” she teases.
he shrugs, pointing his brush at her. “i just like efficiency,” he says, then immediately grins when she sticks her tongue out at him.
they move in this quiet dance, side by side. he rinses and splashes his face, she lathers and pats, the bathroom mirror reflecting a lazy morning glow over both of them. she hums softly while applying moisturizer, and he leans against the counter, still brushing, watching the faint crease in her forehead when she concentrates.
“did you fall back asleep with your eyes open or something?” she says teasingly, wiping at her cheeks with a towel.
“oh i’m awake,” he murmurs, leaning just slightly closer, “i just like to enjoy the scenery.”
she snorts, rolling her eyes but smiling anyway. “stalker,” she says, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from her eyes.
“admirer,” he replies instantly, grinning. she shakes her head, laughing quietly, and he laughs along, warm and soft, like they’ve been doing this forever.
they finish at their own pace—him splashing water, her patting toner into her skin, the little morning rituals stretching on like their own tiny world. percy slips a hand around her waist again, light, casual, and she leans into him for just a second, smiling into the mirror.
“so…” he says finally, glancing at her, a grin tugging at his lips. “shower?”
she looks up at him, a strand of hair clinging to her face. “shower,” she agrees, tilting her head, eyes sparkling. “but don’t get any ideas.”
“ideas?” he echoes, raising an eyebrow. “who, me?”
“yeah, you,” she teases, nudging him gently with her elbow. “don’t go thinking being in the shower makes you irresistible or anything.”
he chuckles, the sound low and warm, letting his hand brush lightly against her hip as he leans closer. “temptation’s hardly my fault,” he murmurs. she rolls her eyes but smiles, letting him guide her just a little toward the shower, hands lingering on her waist.
annabeth tilts her head back, letting the heat wash over her face, eyes closing for a moment. percy watches, quiet, brushing a damp strand of hair from her forehead with his fingers.
“hey,” she murmurs, opening her eyes again. “you’re supposed to be in here helping me, not just staring.”
“helping?” he echoes. “with what?”
“with being less of a goof,” she says, laughing softly. “and… you know. washing hair, maybe.”
“oh, that,” he says, already reaching for the shampoo. he squeezes a small amount into his palm and gently presses his fingers into the roots of her hair, massaging carefully, feeling her relax against him. she hums softly, tilting her head so he can reach every tangle.
“you’re really good at this,” she murmurs, voice soft.
“i’ve had practice,” he says, smiling down at her hair, “with… untangling things.”
she snorts, tilting her head so he can’t see her smile fully. “i meant hair, not seaweed,” she teases.
“hey, fine line,” he says, tilting his head so he can press a quick kiss to her temple. the water streams over them, making everything feel warmer, suspended.
“okay, your turn,” she says after a few minutes, pulling back slightly.
“my turn?” he echoes, raising an eyebrow.
“yeah,” she says, stepping onto her tiptoes so she can reach. “don’t make me stretch all the way over just to fix your hair.”
he chuckles and bends down a little, the height difference making it obvious just how much taller he is.
annabeth’s fingers move slow through his hair, working the shampoo in with easy familiarity. she’s not rushing, not distracted, just methodical in that way she gets when she’s focused on something with her hands.
percy leans down a little more for her without being asked. he always does. shoulders loose, eyes half-lidded under the spray, hands resting warm at her waist like that’s just where they belong.
the water runs steady around them.
it’s quiet in a comfortable way.
the kind they slip into without noticing.
for a minute it’s just that—her fingers in his hair, his thumbs making small absent passes at her sides, steam curling thick in the air.
then his hand drifts.
not deliberate. not really.
just the slow slide of his fingers along her arm where it curves over his shoulder. but when his thumb reaches the high point of her shoulder, it slows on its own.
annabeth feels it immediately.
his touch softens without him thinking about it, thumb brushing once over the faint line there. light. careful. familiar in a way that says he’s done this before.
her hands don’t stop in his hair.
“…you’re distracted,” she says mildly.
percy huffs a quiet breath that might be a laugh. “am not.”
his thumb traces the scar again anyway.
annabeth’s mouth tilts just slightly, but she doesn’t call him on it. doesn’t pull away either. her fingers just keep moving through his curls, slow and steady.
percy shifts a half step closer under the spray, easy as breathing, and dips his head.
his curls brush damp against her collarbone before he presses a soft, absent kiss to her shoulder.
right over the scar. it’s not a big moment, just something that clearly lives in his muscle memory. he does it often.
annabeth’s breath catches for half a second anyway.
her fingers pause in his hair quickly before they start moving again, slower this time.
“…you’re predictable,” she murmurs.
“yeah,” he says easily.
his hand settles back at her waist like nothing happened.
and just like that, the rhythm comes back.
water running, steam thick around them, her fingers working carefully through his hair, his hands warm and steady at her sides.
comfortable.
like this is just another morning they’ve done a hundred times. and well, it sort of is.
annabeth tips his head slightly to rinse without even looking at him. “down a little.”
he follows immediately.
when he straightens again, water sliding down his back, she smooths her hands through his hair one more time, checking for soap.
and then—because she’s not immune to habit either—her hand drifts slowly down the line of his spine.
percy doesn’t react at first.
then her thumb brushes low along his back.
there’s no mark there, the curse is long gone.
but still, his breath pulls in, small and sharp before he smooths it out.
his shoulders tighten for half a second then drop again like he caught himself.
annabeth notices and her hand stills, then immediately lightens, touch turning careful instead of testing.
“sorry,” she says quietly.
percy shakes his head once, quick. “no, you’re fine.” his voice is easy.
but his arm slides a little more securely around her waist anyway, thumb brushing once against her side like he needs the contact.
annabeth’s mouth presses faintly at the corner.
she traces the spot again—gentler this time, barely there—and his shoulders finally loosen fully under the spray.
“still weird?” she asks after a second.
“little bit,” he admits.
no drama in it. just honesty.
she hums softly like she’s filing that away somewhere important, then bumps her shoulder lightly into his.
“c’mere,” she says, nudging him toward the water. “you’ve still got shampoo back here.”
he snorts under his breath but ducks his head obediently.
when he straightens again, water slicking his curls back from his forehead, his fingers drift automatically back over her shoulder.
she doesn’t comment on it. her hand just comes back up into his hair like it always does.
he hums in contentment, a feeling that fills the rest of their shower.
—
now, she’s glancing at the pile of clean laundry on the bed. casually reaching for one of percy’s shirts, she pulls it over her head without a word. the soft cotton drapes over her, sleeves long past her elbows, hem brushing her thighs.
he leans against the bathroom counter, towel hanging low, watching her. “that works,” he says softly, a smile tugging at his lips.
she shrugs, adjusting the shirt over her shoulders, “it’s comfy.”
he shakes his head, amused, “yeah, it definitely looks comfy.”
she glances up at him, hair damp at the ends, eyes bright, “your turn,” she says, nudging him gently toward the pile of clean clothes. he pulls one out, slipping it over his head, curls still sticking damply to his forehead.
they finish dressing at their own pace, quiet except for the small sounds of the apartment around them. they smell like detergent and shampoo.
annabeth stood at the bed, methodically folding a stack of warm clothes, movements neat and automatic. one of percy’s hoodies got smoothed flat with careful hands, sleeves tucked in just right.
percy, meanwhile, was absolutely useless.
he was technically helping, but not really. he was currently leaning against the side of the dresser with a half-folded t-shirt in his hands that he hadn’t actually made any progress on in the last thirty seconds.
because he was watching her.
annabeth didn’t look up when she said, dry, “you’ve been holding that shirt for a concerning amount of time.”
percy blinked like he’d been caught buffering.
“…i’m thinking about it.”
she finally glanced over, eyebrow lifting just slightly.
he smiled, slow and easy, and finally made an attempt to fold it. it came out… fine. not great. definitely not annabeth-level precise.
she looked and sighed.
she stepped closer, took the shirt gently out of his hands, and refolded it in about three seconds flat. percy let her.
“…show-off,” he muttered.
annabeth’s mouth twitched.
she turned to set the folded stack into the open dresser drawer, but percy had already drifted closer. quiet, casual, like gravity was doing most of the work for him.
his hand found her without thinking.
annabeth paused mid-movement. “…we are being productive right now.”
“mm,” percy hummed.
not moving.
not letting go.
his thumb started that absent little trace against her side through the fabric of her shirt—lazy, familiar—and annabeth’s shoulders dropped the tiniest fraction despite herself.
she slid the drawer shut.
turned to face him.
he was already looking at her like that again. soft, a little distracted, like his brain had fully rerouted.
annabeth tried for stern. she got maybe halfway there.
“…you’re hovering again.”
“i’m standing.”
“you’re standing suspiciously close.”
percy’s mouth curved a little. “you didn’t move.”
that earned him a look—sharp on paper, soft in reality—and before she could come up with a proper comeback, his hand shifted slightly at her waist, guiding her the few steps back toward the dresser.
unhurried.
like he knew exactly what he was doing.
annabeth let herself be walked back—which was really the most telling part — until her back bumped the wood.
she exhaled through her nose.
“…percy.”
he just smiled warmly, a little crooked, and stepped in her space like muscle memory.
his hands settled lightly at her hips, thumbs brushing small idle arcs against the fabric there while he leaned in close enough that his voice dropped softer without trying.
“what?”
annabeth opened her mouth. she absolutely had something to say. she did not get to say it.
because he kissed her.
completely unbothered by the fact that they had, in fact, been in the middle of chores thirty seconds ago.
annabeth made the quietest huff of surrender against his mouth before her hand slid up into his hair again, fingers threading through the damp strands at the back of his head.
the kiss stayed easy like neither of them was in any rush to get anywhere else.
percy’s hands shifted slightly on her hips, steadying her as she leaned into him more fully, and he made that soft, pleased sound again when her fingers tugged lightly at his hair.
after a minute, his mouth drifted—because he literally could not help himself—brushing a soft kiss to the corner of her lips.
then her cheek.
then just under her eye.
annabeth’s breath caught on the smallest laugh.
“you are so—”
another kiss.
this time to her jaw.
she tried to finish the sentence.
failed completely when he pressed one to the tip of her nose.
her hands came up to his face like she was about to physically stop him—which, honestly, she was—but instead she just caught his mouth with hers again, pulling him back into a proper kiss before he could keep going.
percy very visibly lost his train of thought.
immediately.
one second he was smiling against her skin—the next he was fully distracted again, leaning into the kiss like she’d just flipped a switch in his brain.
annabeth smiled softly against his mouth, then pulls back and moves to the doorway.
percy reaches out lightly, brushing his hand over the small of her back as she passes him in the hall, and she leans just a fraction into the touch, smiling.
in the kitchen, annabeth hops up onto the counter under the bowl cabinet, knees bent, settling herself comfortably. percy stands in front of her, leaning on the counter beside her thighs, height difference making it easy to hover just above her. she tilts her head up, damp hair brushing her cheeks, eyes meeting his with a quiet grin.
he reaches for her hand, fingers threading together lightly. “so… breakfast?” he murmurs softly, voice low, easy.
she shakes her head with a small laugh, leaning closer, “not yet.”
he hums, brushing a hand over her knee, careful, slow, just enough contact to be grounding.
“okay,” he agrees, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her forehead. “i don’t mind waiting a minute.”
“hm,” she hums, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “just a minute?”
“as long as it takes,” he murmurs, tilting his head so their noses bump. she giggles quietly, leaning to rest her forehead against his chest for a second.
annabeth settles more firmly on the counter, palms braced behind her, watching him with that calm, unreadable look that always makes him feel like he’s already lost whatever game this is. her legs shift, knees angling outward without thinking, making space for him as he steps closer again.
“you’re hovering,” she says.
“i’m standing,” he corrects.
“semantics.”
he smiles, drops his hands to her knees, thumbs brushing there like it’s the most natural resting place in the world. she looks down at them for half a second, then back at his face.
“see,” she says. “now you’re distracted again.”
“this was your plan,” he says.
she leans forward and kisses him before he can finish the sentence. quick. soft. gone.
he exhales through a smile. leans in and returns it, just as light. neither of them tries to deepen it yet. it’s almost playful, the way they keep pulling back just enough to look at each other again.
another kiss. then another. short, lazy, like they’re collecting them.
annabeth hums quietly when his hands slide from her knees to her waist, fingers warm and steady. she hooks one finger into the belt loop of his jeans, tugging him closer by an inch that somehow matters.
“hi,” she says again, like she keeps rediscovering him.
“hey,” he answers, softer this time.
she tilts her head, kisses him slower now, lips lingering just a beat longer before she pulls back. he follows instinctively, nose brushing hers, and she smiles at that too.
“you’re very obvious,” she murmurs.
“you’re sitting on a counter,” he says. “what did you expect.”
she laughs quietly and kisses him again, this one landing more fully. his hands tighten slightly at her waist, thumbs pressing into her sides like he’s anchoring himself there. her knees draw in, heels brushing the backs of his legs.
they pause, foreheads touching, breathing close enough that he can feel it shift when she smiles.
“we were supposed to be doing something,” she says.
“we tried,” he says.
“did we?”
he grins. “briefly.”
she shakes her head, amused, and leans down to kiss him again. it’s still gentle, still unhurried, but there’s something more settled in it now. like they’ve decided this is where they’re staying for a while.
his hand drifts up her side, thumb brushing just under her ribs. she inhales quietly at the touch, then relaxes again, fingers sliding into his hair. she doesn’t tug. just rests her hand there, like she likes knowing it’s his.
they break apart only because they’re both smiling too much to keep kissing straight.
“you’re smiling again,” he says.
“so are you,” she replies.
“yeah, well.”
she leans forward and presses her forehead to his for a second, eyes closed. then she kisses him once more, soft and lingering, before pulling back just enough to look at him properly.
he presses another soft kiss to her hair, and she leans into it, eyes closing briefly. “you’re impossible,” she whispers.
“i prefer… agreeable,” he replies, smiling down at her. “at least to you.”
she laughs softly, nudging him with her shoulder. “hm, okay. agreeable. i’ll allow that.”
he tilts his head, brushing a thumb along her side, just enough to feel her warmth. “good. i aim to please.”
her hands rest on his chest, tracing small circles over the fabric of his shirt. “i can tell,” she says, voice soft, almost a murmur.
he leans closer again, forehead brushing hers. “you like telling me things, huh?”
“sometimes,” she admits, laughing quietly. “sometimes i just like being close.”
“me too,” he says simply, and she smiles, resting her cheek against his chest.
they stay like that, quiet, just breathing together, small smiles tugging at both of them. percy shifts slightly so he can rest a hand over hers, thumb brushing gently. she hums in contentment, eyes half-lidded.
“okay i’m going to pass away if i don’t eat something,” he says, breaking the silence.
“me too, actually,” she agrees, hopping off of the counter.
percy opens the cabinet first, grabbing a couple of bowls while annabeth shuffles behind him, still damp and still a little sleepy. she nudges him gently as she reaches past him for the cereal box.
“you always grab the same kind,” she teases, shaking the box slightly.
“it’s the best kind,” he says defensively, tipping the box into the bowl. “don’t hate on consistency.”
she rolls her eyes but smiles, grabbing the second box for herself. “fine, fine. mr. consistent.”
milk follows and annabeth hums in satisfaction, lifting the spoon to taste the milk first. percy watches, amused.
“you testing the milk before the cereal?” he asks.
“quality control,” she says seriously, taking a small sip. “don’t look at me like that.”
he grins, shaking his head. “whatever you say, inspector.”
bowls in hand, they wander into the living room. annabeth hops up onto the couch, percy sliding in beside her. without thinking, she stretches her legs over his lap, letting her toes brush his jeans. he leans back, hand resting lightly over her shin.
“hey,” he says quietly, “don’t move too much, you’ll spill it.”
“i’m careful,” she murmurs, scooting a little to balance the bowl on her stomach. “mostly.”
he laughs softly. “mostly, huh?”
she sticks out her tongue at him, and he pretends to scowl, tilting the bowl slightly so she can’t get him back. they eat slowly, enjoying the simple rhythm of breakfast together. cereal crunches, spoons clinking, occasional humming or soft laughs.
“you’re taking forever,” percy says after a few minutes, leaning down to bump her shoulder with his own.
“i like to make it last,” she says, peering up at him with a small grin. “you should try it sometime.”
“i do it all the time,” he says, smirking. “except with you.”
she laughs, soft and quiet, leaning her head against his chest briefly. he presses a kiss to the top of her hair before returning his attention to his own bowl.
the bowls sit where they were left, pushed slightly to the side of the coffee table like they lost importance the second they were empty. a faint ring of milk is already drying at the bottom of annabeth’s. percy nudges one with his knuckles, then gives up and lets his arm fall back against the couch.
“so,” he says. “we did eat.”
annabeth hums, stretching her legs out fully now, ankles crossing and uncrossing as she settles in. “technically.”
“i think that counts.”
“you would.”
he grins and reaches for the remote, thumb clicking it awake. the tv flickers on, bright against the otherwise quiet apartment, and immediately starts cycling through options like it’s impatient with them.
annabeth leans back into the cushions, eyes on the screen. “no.”
“you didn’t even let it load.”
“i don’t need to.”
he scrolls again. something loud starts auto-playing.
“absolutely not,” she says.
“you’re very decisive today.”
“i’m always decisive.”
“you spent ten minutes choosing cereal.”
“shush.”
he laughs softly and keeps flipping. neither of them is really focused on what’s on the screen. it’s just something to do with their hands, something to fill the space while the morning stretches out around them.
after a bit, percy shifts. first it’s subtle—shoulders rolling, back straightening like he’s trying to get comfortable but failing. then he scoots forward on the couch, feet planting on the floor.
annabeth glances over. “why do you look like you’re about to stand up.”
“i’m not,” he says. “i’m… rearranging.”
she watches him with mild suspicion as he turns, lifting one knee onto the couch, then the other. it’s clumsy in a familiar way—too much limb, not enough space. he braces a hand near her hip without really thinking about it.
“you’re blocking the tv,” she says.
“temporary issue.”
he bends at the waist, lowering himself carefully, clearly realizing halfway through that this requires more commitment than expected.
“okay hold on,” he mutters.
annabeth laughs under her breath and shifts back, giving him room. “you can’t just half-do this.”
“i know,” he says. “i’m tall.”
“still not an excuse.”
he finally slides down, shoulders settling, head landing fully on her stomach. it’s a complete switch—not angled, not hovering. he’s laid out properly now, cheek pressed in, neck bent just enough to be comfortable.
he exhales, slow and content.
“there,” he says.
she looks down at him, one eyebrow lifting. “did you plan that?”
her hand finds his hair anyway, fingers slipping through curls without hesitation. the reaction is immediate—his shoulders drop, body relaxing like something finally clicked into place.
the remote is still in his hand, resting against his chest. he scrolls once, twice, slower now.
“what about that,” she says, nodding toward the screen.
“maybe.”
“that’s not an answer.”
he tilts his head slightly, eyes flicking up to her face upside down. “i’m open to discussion.”
she snorts, fingers tracing idle lines at his hairline. “pick something.”
“okay,” he says, then doesn’t move.
she waits a beat. then another.
“percy.”
“i am thinking.”
“you’re not.”
“i am,” he insists. “i’m just also very comfortable.”
she shifts back against the couch, and he adjusts with her automatically, cheek pressing more securely into her stomach like he’s anchoring himself there. one of his arms slides across her legs, loose and warm.
“you’re going to fall asleep,” she says.
“no.”
“you already sound like you’re asleep.”
he smiles, eyes half-closed. “rude.”
the preview on the tv ends and restarts. neither of them reaches for the remote.
annabeth’s fingers keep moving through his hair, slow and absent. after a moment, she leans forward, testing the angle, then bends down more deliberately.
the kiss lands soft and upside down, lips brushing his. he smiles into it immediately, one hand lifting to rest lightly at her side, thumb pressing there like he needs the reminder she’s real.
she pulls back just enough to look at him. “hi.”
“hi,” he murmurs.
she kisses him again, a little longer this time, still unhurried. his eyes close fully now.
percy’s still stretched out on her, full weight settled now, cheek resting just under her ribs like he belongs there. annabeth adjusts automatically, one hand smoothing over his shoulder, the other finding his hair.
she leans down and presses a quick kiss to his mouth. barely there.
he smiles without opening his eyes.
another kiss. just as fast.
“you’re doing that on purpose,” he murmurs.
she shrugs, like it’s obvious. leans down again. this one lands at the corner of his mouth, soft and teasing. then another, right on his lips, gone before it can turn into anything else.
his hand slides at her side, fingers curling lightly into her shirt. he tilts his head back to look at her now, eyes half-lidded, amused.
“you gonna keep doing drive-bys or—”
she kisses him again, cutting him off. quick. quiet. familiar.
he exhales a laugh against her mouth and shifts, rolling just enough so he’s more on his side than flat on his back. his arm moves to brace beside her, his knee nudging between her legs on the couch.
annabeth’s hand slips to his jaw without thinking, thumb resting just under his lip. she leans down again, slower this time.
he lifts his head, meeting her halfway. they’re close enough now that the kiss is about to change, about to deepen, about to become something that takes longer than a second.
then—
the front door opens.
voices, overlapping. the familiar sound of keys hitting the counter. a bag rustling. footsteps.
percy freezes.
annabeth does too, hovering inches from his mouth.
“we’re home,” sally calls, casual, warm.
percy drops his head back onto her stomach like nothing happened, a little too fast. annabeth’s hand retreats from his face just as quickly, fingers sliding into his hair instead, deliberately innocent.
paul’s voice follows, closer now. estelle’s footsteps patter in, energetic and loud.
annabeth stares up at the ceiling for a second, lips pressed together, fighting a smile.
percy peeks up at her, eyes bright with it.
estelle appears first, skidding into the living room like she’s been launched, socks half-on and hair doing whatever it wants.
“percy!” she says immediately, zero hesitation. then she squints. “why are you upside down?”
percy lifts his head just enough to look at her. “i’m not upside down. you’re upside down.”
annabeth snorts before she can stop herself, hand coming up to cover her mouth. percy feels it through her stomach, the quiet shake of it, and smiles wider.
sally comes in behind estelle, setting her bag down on the counter as she takes in the scene in one glance. annabeth reclined on the couch. percy sprawled across her like this is the most normal thing in the world.
which, to her, it is.
“morning,” sally says easily.
“morning,” annabeth replies, sitting up just a little straighter out of habit.
percy shifts too, pushing himself up onto his elbows, then sitting fully so he’s no longer on her. he does it reluctantly, like gravity is protesting.
paul appears last, carrying something that smells like coffee. “did we interrupt something,” he asks mildly.
“nope,” percy says instantly.
annabeth nods at the same time. “we were watching tv.”
the tv is still on the menu screen, cycling through options it’s been cycling through for ages.
paul hums, amused but unconcerned. “looks intense.”
estelle climbs onto the couch without asking, squeezing herself into the space percy just vacated. she leans back dramatically, kicking her feet up.
“what are we watching,” she asks.
percy reaches for the remote at last. “uh. still deciding.”
“wow,” estelle says. “you’re bad at this.”
annabeth laughs softly, finally relaxing again, and leans back into the cushions. percy settles beside her, shoulders brushing, close but normal now. his knee bumps hers under the blanket and stays there.
the morning resumes around them—bags unpacked, coffee poured, voices drifting in and out—but something about it still feels held. quiet in a different way.
annabeth glances over at percy. he looks back, eyebrows lifting just slightly.
later, they’ll finish that kiss.
for now, this is enough.