Chapter Text
"Annabeth is coming over?"
Five-year-old Estelle looks up from her book — the one Annabeth gave her for her fourth birthday, about a group of mice studying at Mouseford Academy and unraveling the mystery of Hans Ranton, a student who vanishes without a trace. Thea Stilton and the Dragon's Code, reads the cover.
She had been deep in it, brow furrowed, curled into the blue couch of the Jackson-Blofis apartment while Sally's soft music drifted through the room. Already halfway to the climax, when Percy said the name that pulled her right out of the story.
"Yeah, she is." Percy answers, ruffling her hair as he glances down at the book in her lap.
"You're really into that one, huh?" he asks, a smirk tugging at his lips. The little scrunch between Estelle's brows when she concentrates, he's seen that look before. On Annabeth, whenever she's working something out in her head.
"Yes," Estelle says simply. Then, a beat later: "When is Annabeth coming over?"
"Someone's excited to see my girlfriend." Percy chuckles, and something warm settles in his chest. His little sister, practically vibrating at the thought of Annabeth — he gets it. That's just what Annabeth does to people. When you're with her, you feel seen.
Estelle, for her part, ignores him entirely and goes back to her book. It was getting to the good part.
"Percy!" Sally calls from the hallway, already walking. "The lasagna's almost done — take it out in five minutes for me. I have to take this call." She holds up her phone as she says it. Probably the publisher. Sally had been neck-deep in her third book lately. Calls to answer, pages to rewrite, words to chase down and wrestle into place.
"On it," Percy says.
He heads to the kitchen, and the smell hits him first — rich, cheesy, warm. He checks the clock, pulls on the oven mitts, and stations himself in front of the oven. Watching. Waiting. As if the lasagna might somehow make a run for it.
Few minutes after, small footsteps pad into the kitchen.
"Why are you staring at the lasagna?" Estelle asks, head tilting. She's got her book tucked under one arm, pigtails slightly lopsided, lavender dress and all — like a question mark in human form.
"Hoping it'll make five minutes go by faster," Percy says.
She tilts her head the other way. "Does that work?"
"No."
"Then why are you doing it?"
"Because I'm a man of hope, Estelle."
She considers this with the gravity of a tiny philosopher, and Percy has to look away to keep from laughing. That curiosity of hers, the way she pulls at a question until it gives, reminds him of someone. Someone who'd treated knowledge like oxygen for as long as he'd known her. Like the world made more sense the more of it you understood.
Estelle just shrugs. She pads over to Percy and grabs a fistful of his blue sweater.
"Percy."
"Yeah?" He looks down at her.
"Help me up the chair, please." She points at the high counter stool like she's filing a formal request.
Percy chuckles, tugs off the mitts, and scoops her up by the waist. "Alright, up you go," he huffs, depositing her onto the seat carefully. He sets her book on the counter in front of her, and she smooths it open like she never left.
"Thank you," Estelle says, and kisses his cheek. He walks back to the oven. Checks the clock. Two minutes.
Okay. Patience. I won’t take it out for another two minutes.
He's working on it. Annabeth's trick, think it three times before you say it, before you do it — he's been trying to apply it everywhere lately. Turns out it works on lasagna too.
"Are you going on a date?" Estelle asks, eyes still on her book.
Percy glances back at her. "No, we're staying in. Mom has a meeting, Paul's got tests to grade — no one to look after you." He turns back to the oven, rocking slightly on his heels.
"Oh." A beat. "Okay."
"Why do you ask?"
Estelle runs her finger along the edge of her page. "You guys never take me on your dates," she says, voice going small.
Percy turns to look at her and has to press his lips together to keep from smiling. "Because it's a date, Estelle. Two people. Dinner, maybe a movie." He gestures vaguely, as if this is the most reasonable thing in the world.
Annabeth, for the record, is not particularly fond of movies. Percy knows this. He also knows, with the quiet, stubborn certainty of someone who has made up his mind about something and is not going to be talked out of it, that this is a problem he fully intends to solve. He will find the one. The movie that does it, that pulls her in, that makes her forget she doesn't like movies, that has her nudging his shoulder at 2am to tell him she's been thinking about the third act.
"Yeah." She finally looks up at him. "But I want to come."
"That's not really how it works," Percy tries.
Estelle's head tilts. "So I can go on a date with Annabeth without you, then?
"What — no, I should be there."
"But you said it's just two people."
"Yeah, but we're —"
The oven beeps. Saved, Percy thinks, already reaching for the mitts. He sets the lasagna on the counter, peels off the mitts, and nudges the oven shut with his hip. Then he moves to the table — mismatched plates, mismatched utensils, the usual.
"So can I take Annabeth on a date without you?" Estelle eggs on.
Percy, halfway through setting a plate down, pauses. "Um, Estelle, you see —"
Two knocks at the door. Saved again.
"I'll get it!" Estelle is off the stool and halfway down the hall before Percy can blink.
He watches her go, something fond and slightly offended stirring in his chest. She's more excited to see his girlfriend than he is, and he's the one who's been away from her for two days. Spring break had come, but Annabeth had things to finish up, so Percy had headed home a day early. They had an apartment together near New Rome, small and cozy and theirs, and even one day without her in it felt like something was slightly off.
Percy follows her to the door.
"Annabeth!" Estelle throws her arms up and barrels straight into Annabeth, nearly taking her off her feet.
Annabeth laughs, catches her, and bends down to tap her nose. "Hi, Esti." She pulls her into a tight hug. "I missed you."
"I missed you, too." Estelle burrows her face into the crook of Annabeth's neck like she's been waiting to do exactly that all day. When she finally lets go, Annabeth straightens up — and walks right into Percy's gaze.
Seaweed Brain.
"Hi," she says, and she's already smiling, the tension she'd been carrying in her shoulders quietly releasing the moment the word leaves her mouth.
"Hi, Wise Girl." That smile. The full, stupid, hundred-watt one he saves for her. His eyes trace over her — white fitted tee tucked into straight-leg olive trousers, a loose linen button-down worn open over it, sleeves rolled to the elbow. Braids half-up, half-down. Simple. Easy. So completely her.
"I missed you." Annabeth pauses, glancing down at Estelle with a conspiratorial smile. "Well — I missed Estelle more. But it counts."
"Missed you more," Percy says, already stepping closer, "and we both know you missed me the most." His hand finds her waist and he drops a kiss to her forehead. "You look pretty," he murmurs.
Annabeth goes pink. She looks up at him and shoves his shoulder — not hard, just enough.
"Okay, inside." She takes Estelle's hand and steers them both through the door. "I can smell the lasagna from here and I'm starving.”