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It’s been a long summer.
When Annabeth thinks about it, when she really sits with it instead of trudging through all the signals her body sends her, simply describing the summer as long is an understatement. It isn’t incorrect — she did come back to camp much earlier than usual, lending her intelligence to war efforts instead of algebra worksheets — but it’s far too simple to cover the massive scope of events that occurred.
There were the technical parts of war strategy that spanned across the year, far before the summer began – the planning, the training, the special missions, the defeats, the last-minute redemption, and finally, victory. There were the moments in between strategizing — the waiting, the doubting, the anxiety, the acceptance of your probable death. Everyone at camp had gone through the motions, especially the Athena cabin. Ease, she recalls, was not an option for her siblings.
A few years ago, that’s all Annabeth would’ve predicted herself grappling with. But 11-year-old Annabeth did not know the Great Prophecy nor the blond-haired boy who was destined to be its inheritor. She didn’t expect Grover to find a forbidden kid at a random boarding school, or that the same kid to be so intent on sacrificing himself for everyone. She wouldn't have assumed that he’d change her worldview within a week or that he’d continue to go on quests with her every year. She absolutely wouldn’t have seen herself liking him, much less loving him, especially with all the trouble he’d bring with him.
She didn’t know that the kind, tender-hearted boy who she’d fallen for was destined to die at 16. So really, 11-year-old Annabeth had only imagined the tip of the iceberg.
Percy and the war effort combined was enough to keep Annabeth in the worst headspace ever. Even after the war ended, her mind was elsewhere. When she closes her eyes, she pictures images she’d rather not see — bodies of her campmates laying on the streets of Manhattan, Luke’s blood on her knife, the burning of burial shrouds. The eerie silence of an almost empty camp, occasionally interrupted by the occasional chatter, only exacerbated her perpetual state of unease.
That’s why she finds herself here so often, she figures. The pond in the middle of the woods is a secret among the senior counsellors. Large enough to house a football field (and a little more, Annabeth reasoned) and lined with large rocks, it’s a refuge away from the chaos of camp. Or at least it was, until most of the campers died in battle last month. Now it seems like the nosiest yet most peaceful place to exist within camp grounds.
When nobody’s paying attention, she slips away from camp activities to come here. Only spends an hour, two at most, sitting on the rocks and watching the sun reflect on the water. Sometimes she’ll bring a swimsuit or a book with her, but she mostly sits around, soaking in the ambience of a deserted safe haven. With no naiads or other sea creatures lurking beneath the surface of the oddly clear water, she figures it’s a product of divine magic like Thalia’s tree.
The sound of the gentle wind brushing against the trees nearly puts her to sleep, only to be interrupted by a tap on her shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”
Her heart jumps out of her chest. When did he get here? “Gods, Percy!”
He has the audacity to hold back a laugh. “Sorry, I thought you saw me.”
“You were behind me!”
She watches him as he sits down beside her, their shoulders touching. She feels a dampness on his arm, the water droplets on his arm transferring to her dry camp shirt. “Actually, I was in the water. I was floating around in there but you were too far in la la land to notice me”
She furrows her brows. “Is that a movie reference?”
“What, la la land? No.”
“Isn’t there a movie called Lala Land?”
“Yes, but that’s not where the term comes from.” A pause. “I think.”
She can’t help it — a giggle escapes her without permission, her hand reaching to his hair to comb through his curls. To her surprise, they’re not entirely dry. “Well, we should watch it sometime. What’s up with your hair?”
He leans into her touch, tilting his head for easy access. “I’m experimenting with my powers. Trying to see if I could keep myself damp instead of just dry or just wet.”
“Maybe you can reverse it,” she suggests, subconsciously reaching for his grey streak. It feels rougher, thin enough to dissolve between her fingertips. “Go from dry to wet or vice versa and then stop midway.”
“Hm. I’ll have to try that later.”
There’s a calm silence that passes between them, the soft breeze and occasional bird chirp taking over. Annabeth looks down at the river, surprisingly clean for a body of water in New York, and dips her bare feet in. A ripple swims from the point of contact, slowly spreading to the very edge of the rocks they’re perched on.
Her hand falls from Percy’s head when he speaks again, a tinge of bitterness bleeding through. “It’s nice to use my powers for something less destructive for once.”
He must think it’s his turn to play with her hair, his hands reaching for the tips of her braids. He fiddles with her gray streak, a stark reminder of the cruelty they’ve faced. Ironically, he reaches for the braid when he wants to come off as less serious, more carefree. But Annabeth knows him, knows his tells — there’s nothing accidental about what he said.
“I still feel like I’m in battle sometimes,” he continues, watching her turn her head to really look at him. There’s a small frown on his lips that makes her heart ache. “Like there’s a monster behind me that I need to destroy.”
She looks at him with all the care in the world, mirroring his frown. “I saw you spar with Clarisse yesterday. Did that… do anything for you?”
“Nope. I just…” He thinks for a second. “Everything feels so difficult.”
She resists the urge to touch him in some way — to hold his hand, to link her arm through his, to feel the warmth of his cheek against her palm. But that’s the tricky thing about living past the war. Although she had hoped Percy would survive, she hadn’t quite imagined what would happen if her wishes came true. Now, she’s in a relationship with her best friend, except she’s not sure what the boundaries are.
Instead she goes with what’s familiar. “I know. I can’t stand being near the cabins. It’s too quiet. It reminds me of the throne room in Olympus,” she admits, taking a deep breath before saying The Name. “With Luke. So I come here instead, where there’s at least some noise.”
She thinks his frown can’t deepen any further. She’s proven wrong immediately. “What about at night?”
“The Athena cabin isn’t as bad, but still too quiet. I moved my bunk closer to the windows in case there’s any noise nearby, but it’s all pretty much the same.”
“You could sleep in my cabin.”
She scoffed, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “And what, get eaten by the harpies? I’ll survive, Percy. It’s just like you said – everything feels so difficult.”
He sighs. “I know everything feels difficult to me, but knowing you feel the same is somehow worse.”
Gods, how could he just say that? With no second thoughts, no contemplation. If she didn’t know any better, she’d assume he was a child of Aphrodite.
Her attempt at matching his energy sounded much smoother than she felt saying it. “It feels easier when you’re around, if that makes you feel any better.”
Mustering whatever confidence was left in her, she grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers before leaving the pair on her thigh. The summer heat seems to have stuck directly onto him, his skin feeling warmer than ever. The patches of skin between his knuckles feel rough beneath her fingertips.
While she resists the urge to smooth out the coarse skin, he smiles. “I feel much better when I’m around you too.”
His eyes flick down to her camp necklace, laying on the collar of her camp shirt, back to her eyes, and down to her lips. His eyes linger there for a second before he asks in a much smaller voice. “Can I-” he clears his throat, suddenly nervous. “Can I kiss you?”
Whenever Annabeth gets nervous, seeing Percy equally as shy as her calms her down. This is one of those times. “Of course.”
Despite the gossip surrounding their relationship, the two don’t kiss much (or not as much as everyone liked to assume). Most of the time it was just a peck on the cheek or a very quick, chaste kiss, mostly reserved for when they’d part ways. They were rarely alone, never in a secluded area with a low risk of interruptions. Even the beach carried the possibility, especially with the naiads lurking around for Percy-related gossip. Besides, they’d only been together for a few weeks. She wasn’t expecting much more, and neither was Percy.
But the moment is perfect. So when Percy brings his lips to hers, she gladly reciprocates.
Annabeth has learned that there’s a certain giddiness that comes with being kissed. It’s planted in her stomach and blooms to her chest, her heart beating with an excitement she’s never experienced before. She finds no exception this time. It’s euphoric and thrilling, and she suddenly understands why Silena was always raving about it — surely there’s nothing that compares to this.
Percy’s lips seem to have a mind of their own. Soft, gentle, and ever-so tender, moving with a pace that just makes sense. When she finally gives into her desire and wraps her arms around his neck, slightly moving into his lap, he makes a noise that Annabeth can only decipher as a groan. But a good groan, she assumes, as he wraps his arms around her waist.
When she pulls away, her lungs begging for air, she almost cries. He’s so handsome – his lips slightly separated, his chest moving in and out, a dazed look in his bright blue eyes. She wants to trace the slope of his nose, to pepper his hairline with kisses, to stay this close forever. There is no place she’d rather be, and she reminds him by bringing his lips back to hers.
Her fingers tangle in his hair, needing an anchor for whatever this feeling is. Wanting more, wanting eternity, needing security. He seems to share the same thoughts, cupping her face with a reverence that can only be described as love. His palms fit her jaw like a puzzle, as if they were made for only this purpose. She wouldn’t disagree with that line of thinking.
She sighs into the kiss as she gets more comfortable, fully moving into his lap. Before she can go any further, he breaks apart from her, his forehead resting against hers. His eyes are closed for a second, simply breathing her in before kissing the corner of her mouth.
She smiles with her teeth, sure that she looks like a lovesick puppy. “We need to do that more often.”
He chuckles. “Yeah. If only Chiron wasn’t watching us like a hawk.”
“And every other camper. Chiron means well, though. He’s probably wondering where we are right now.”
“He can keep wondering,” he quips, his hands finding her waist. “I’m feeling good for the first time in…”
“A while?”
“Something like that.”
Her fingers continue to fiddle with the curls on his nape, her nails occasionally brushing his scalp. “Let’s stay here and do something, then. I don’t want to go back to my cabin just yet.”
“We could kiss again.”
She gives him a pointed look before giving him a quick peck. He has the audacity to whine. “That’s not what I meant!”
She ignores him. “The water’s nice, right? We could swim here.”
His eyes light up. “I can practice my damp skills!”
“Surely there’s a better name for that power.”
“Unless you can think of one, I’m gonna keep calling it damp.”
“Just damp?”
“Yup.”
“How about midi? Like midway between dry and wet.”
“That’s not much better.”
“I think it is. Damp is just boring. Midi is creative.”
“Fine,” he relents, wrapping his arms around her thighs and standing up. His ankles are submerged under the water when he drops her atop the rock they were sitting on. He turns around and walks further into the pond. “Midi it is. Do you have a bathing suit?”
She nods, her hands reaching for the hem of her shirt. “I was already planning on getting in the water. Figured you’d sense me in the pond eventually.”
“Smart. You knew I’d…”
His voice trails off. Once her shirt passes her head and her denim shorts meet the rocks, she finds him knee deep in the water, facing her.
She raises a brow. “I knew what?”
“N-nothing,” he stutters, his cheeks growing pink. “It’s just— you look—”
She looks down at the top half of her bathing suit — a burgundy one-piece with a square neckline. Her camp necklace rested on her bare colorbones, the weight of the nine beads and her father’s ring creating a downward v-shape. When she lifts her head, she finds Percy’s eyes jumping from her neck to her waist to her legs to her face to her—
“—you look good,” he manages. “Really good.”
She feels her cheeks burn. It’s almost embarrassing how easily he makes her blush. “Thank you. Are you gonna take your shirt off?”
He walks back, smiling. It’s shy and giddy at the same time, matching the warmth in her chest. “Gotta test my midi powers. Come on, I’ll make a bubble for you underwater.”
The jagged surface of the rock pricks into her feet the longer she stands on it, so she takes a small step forward. “You know, I always wondered how you— Oh!”
Before she knows it, she’s slipping knee-deep into the water, stumbling onto a collection of pebbles gathered at the bottom of the pond. She’s lucky that Percy’s there, catching her by the waist before she can fall flat on her face.
They look at each other, their eyes blown wide. Before they know it, they burst out laughing. “Oh my god!”
As she leans forward to rest her head on his chest, unable to stop the giggles spilling out of her, she feels his thumbs dig into the bottom of her ribcage. Her arms clutch his biceps, gripping the soft cotton of his camp shirt. “I don’t know how that happened!”
“Maybe you just wanted me to catch you.”
“Did not!”
“We can settle on a maybe,” he suggests, the remnant of a laugh lingering in his voice. “It isn’t the worst thing in the world.”
“What, slipping off a rock that isn’t even smooth?”
“Well that’s pretty bad” —she hits his chest— “Hey! I meant wanting me to catch you.”
“Well that’s not why I fell.” She removed her forehead from his shirt, craning her neck to look at him. There’s a grin on his face that’s doing embarrassing things to her heartbeat. “I guess I chose the more humiliating option.”
“It’s okay. I like losers.”
“Oh, so I’m a loser?”
“What else do you call someone who nearly faceplanted into a lake?”
“Pond,” she corrects him.
“Okay, fine, who nearly faceplanted into a pond.”
“You should be calling her your lovely girlfriend who’s never done something wrong in her life.”
“Lying goes against camp rules.”
She scoffs, her hands leaving his arms and meeting beyond his shoulder. They intertwine behind his head, her palms planted on the sides of his neck. “And you’re the poster boy of following camp rules.”
“Absolutely.”
“Alright, so let’s go back to our cabins–”
His grip tightens on her waist. “Wait, wait. I didn’t mean that.”
She grins. “I figured.”
He rolls his eyes, pulling her closer. “Don’t act like you’d rather be in the big house doing chores right now.”
“You’re right, I’d rather be here with my boyfriend.” She feels his thumbs brush up and down the sides of her stomach, brushing her ribcage. In most cases, she’d find this annoying, but the smooth drag of his fingers borderlines hypnotism. “My boyfriend who wanted to see if he could be damp instead of just wet or dry.”
“I kinda want to do something different now.”
“Which is?”
“Kiss you again,” he confesses sheepishly.
She doesn’t let him ask again, simply dragging him down to her and bringing their lips together. He latches on immediately, his hands cupping her face ever so gently. It’s sweet, it’s electric, and it’s cut short by his lips ducking down to her neck to press a kiss to her pulse. She nearly whimpers, the sudden need to keep him there almost overtaking her motor control.
When he rises to his full height again, his hands once again finding her waist, she simply stares. His hair tousled, his lips reddening, his sea blue eyes lingering on her neck before meeting hers. He must see something similar, she thinks, as a small smile appears before her.
Some people believe that love confessions must be special moments. Carefully planned, precisely curated. But Annabeth has never felt that way, at least not with Percy. Her love for him was never a big revelation to her – it was a growing realization that settled into her bones many years ago. And so there’s no prior planning that causes her to tell him so. “I love you.”
There’s no visible shock at her confession, which really wasn’t a confession when she thinks about it. Is stating that the sky is blue an admission of something more or is it just a fact? When he responds I love you too with the dorkiest smile on his face, it is a response that’s just like hers – not a profound declaration of love, but a statement of the obvious. The grass is green, the sun is a star, and I love you too.
An epiphany does hit her, though. Not that she’s terribly in love with the son of Poseidon, or that she’s grateful for everything that’s happened in the last few years. It’s a rather sudden thought that she later identifies to be well earned: There are good things that come with the end of war.
If you were to ask Annabeth a few months later what happened next, she wouldn’t be able to tell you in a coherent manner. She’d mention that Percy can, in fact, stay damp instead of either extreme, but only for a few minutes. She’d remember tying her hair into a ponytail to avoid getting it wet, only to inevitably fall into the water again. She’d recall a bubble under the surface where she could lay down comfortably and clearly see the pebbles at the bottom of the pond. She’d, however, omit the details of how Percy would continue to find many opportunities to kiss her – her lips, her forehead, her neck – and how she’d kiss him fervently back every time.
All she can confidently say is that being with Percy feels like healing. And healing feels good.
(She does eventually go back to her cabin, braids fully dry (courtesy of Percy). She goes to bed, her bunk still located beside the window. And for once, she falls asleep immediately.)