Archive of Our Own

1  

Percy had always considered Camp Half-Blood his home. 

It wasn't just because he slept there during the summer or because he had a cabin under his father's protection. It was because it was the only place in the world where he never had to explain who he was. No one thought he was strange or that he simply had too much of an imagination, like they had throughout his childhood. No one found it odd when he got things mixed up or walked around covered in bruises, because everyone there shared the same experience of being a demigod (although Percy came with the added bonus of a prophecy about his death and all that). At camp, the children of gods trained with swords before breakfast, arrows flew across the fields as if it were as ordinary as playing soccer, and a Pegasus landing near the beach drew less attention than a seagull stealing someone's food. That was normal, and there Percy was normal too. Or as close to normal as he could be. 

But even though Camp Half-Blood was home, after the Great Prophecy, it stopped being just the place where he saw his friends and felt like he belonged to a community. It became the place where he trained to lead an army and, most likely, die. 

It was impossible to walk through the arena without remembering that he needed to get faster. Every training session ended with the feeling that it still wasn't enough, and every loss to a more experienced camper felt like another silent countdown to everything he could lose to Kronos. Or Luke. 

The lake where he used to relax after activities had become nothing more than a place to recover before the next training session. Even Thalia's pine tree, which had represented safety for years, seemed to watch him as though it knew exactly how much time he had left, since the demigod had ultimately left that burden for him to carry alone, knowing he would never allow Nico to bear it instead. 

For all those reasons, Percy returned to camp almost every weekend that year. 

He trained more than he ever had before, more than anyone else. Because when he was busy trying not to get run through with a sword, it was a little easier to think less about the possibility that he might never make it to sixteen, even though that was the whole point of the training: making sure that didn't happen. 

There was just one inconvenient detail about spending every weekend at camp. 

Annabeth. 

Avoiding her took almost as much effort as looking for her. 

Of course, they inevitably crossed paths. Camp Half-Blood wasn't nearly large enough for two people to pretend the other didn't exist. Sometimes she was leaving the arena just as he was walking in. Other times they saw each other in the dining pavilion at dinner, or ran into one another near the Big House. They exchanged a brief greeting, a practical comment or two, and then each went their separate way as though that were enough, but it never was. 

Two days a week certainly weren't enough to fix anything, but they were more than enough for every conversation to end in an argument. 

It was almost impressive. All it took was a slightly more delicate subject, an offhand remark, or simply one of them being too exhausted to choose their words carefully, and that was it. They argued. About Luke, about Rachel, about the prophecy, about choices, about things neither of them really wanted to discuss, like the kiss that still burned inside him as an impossible memory he couldn't forget, yet somehow seemed to exist between them all the time. 

Percy eventually realized he had developed a peculiar talent: he could recognize Annabeth from a distance before he even saw her. Sometimes it was the sound of her footsteps; other times, it was the trail of long blonde braids disappearing between the cabins. Either way, his body automatically changed direction. 

Being near her was difficult. 

Being away from her was even worse. 

Even so, he kept avoiding her, because keeping his distance seemed easier than admitting that neither option actually worked. 

So he did what he knew best. 

He trained. 

Until one day, a problem came along that somehow managed to compete with the end of the world. 

His mother's wedding. 

Sally Jackson was finally marrying Paul Blofis the following weekend in a small, simple ceremony, exactly the way she had always dreamed. Percy was genuinely happy for her. Paul was good. Good in that rare, comforting way that made Percy feel safe. He made Sally laugh, cooked some pretty decent blue pancakes, and somehow managed to teach teenagers every day without completely losing his mind—not to mention all the help he gave Percy with his homework. Paul deserved to marry Sally. 

The problem was that the wedding involved a tradition Percy hadn't even known existed: a mother-and-son dance that would take place in front of Paul's entire family. In front of their college friends. In front of the teachers who worked with Paul at Goode and who probably still remembered the boy named Percy Jackson perfectly well, the one who had managed the remarkable feat of getting himself expelled from Goode in record time. 

And Percy couldn't dance. 

It wasn't that he danced badly. Dancing badly implied knowing how to dance at least a little, and Percy simply had no idea what to do with his legs whenever music started playing. The last time he had tried had been with Annabeth at Westover, but he'd been so nervous that he could barely move at all. Did that even count as dancing? 

That was exactly why, one quiet afternoon, Cabin 3 found itself with a soundtrack completely incompatible with its resident. 

After a little coaxing, Chiron's old radio finally crackled back to life with an electric pop, hissing for a few seconds before recognizing the cassette. Landslide began playing softly, filling the room with a gentle melody that contrasted completely with the embarrassing disaster Percy was about to inflict upon himself. 

He took a deep breath and glanced around to make absolutely sure no one was watching and that every window was closed. 

He stretched one arm toward empty space, trying to imagine where Sally would be standing, rested his other hand against an invisible waist, and began moving with the music in the only way that seemed remotely logical to him. 

It wasn't. 

His feet seemed to have developed minds of their own. Whenever one stepped to the left, the other decided to experiment with the right. His body turned too early, then too late, or sometimes for no reason at all, completely out of sync with the music. At one point, he attempted a spin that had looked graceful in his head and nearly tangled himself in the bedsheets hanging off the side of the bed. 

He managed to catch his balance on pure demigod reflex, which was honestly a little humiliating, considering that defeating giant monsters required less coordination than slow dancing with his own mother. 

Percy let out a long sigh, ran a hand through his already messy hair, and tried again. This time he focused on the rhythm. Counted silently. Watched his own feet for a few seconds and... 

Terrible idea. 

The moment he looked down to check where he was stepping, he completely lost track of the rest of his body. He took an awkward step, slammed his knee into the corner of the bed, spun much farther than he'd intended, and had to catch himself against the wall to keep his training session from ending with him sprawled across the floor of the cabin. 

This was ridiculous. 

He was ridiculous. 

It shouldn't have been this hard! 

The worst part was admitting that facing a Minotaur seemed significantly easier than surviving three minutes of a Fleetwood Mac song without looking like a scarecrow having a panic attack. 

The music was still filling the cabin when three sharp knocks echoed against the door, and before Percy could react, the doorknob turned. 

"Percy, the Stolls nee..." 

The sentence died halfway through. 

Percy jumped so violently that, for a split second, he was convinced his heart had tried to burst out of his chest like something straight out of Alien. He spun around so quickly that he nearly tripped over his own feet again, only to find the one person he had never expected to see standing in the doorway of his cabin at that particular moment. 

Annabeth. 

Oh, gods. 

She was wearing a pair of worn denim shorts and the faded orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt, its color already washed out by the summer sun. Instead of hiding her from mortal eyes, her Yankees cap hung from one of her belt loops, swaying lightly against her thigh. The small curly braids Percy was used to seeing woven through her loose hair had all been gathered into a single thick braid that fell down her back, nearly reaching her hips. Her face was slightly flushed from the afternoon heat, dark freckles stood out more prominently across the bridge of her nose, and her dagger rested casually in one hand as though it were nothing more than another accessory. 

She, too, stood perfectly still, unmistakably caught off guard by what she had just witnessed. 

They stared at each other for a second or two that somehow felt much longer. 

Long enough for Percy to remember exactly what he'd been doing when she'd opened the door. 

In one spectacularly awkward motion, he practically threw himself at Chiron's radio. The music cut off in the middle of a verse when he twisted the knob a little too hard, and the silence that settled over the cabin somehow felt even more embarrassing than Landslide ever had. 

When he turned back around, he was convinced his entire face was on fire. As hot as Mount St. Helens. Hot enough that if someone had decided to fry an egg on his cheeks, it probably would've worked. 

"A-Annabeth!" The words stumbled over one another, practically colliding as they came out. "W-what do you need?" 

She kept looking at him, blinking once, then again. 

"Um..." Her voice came out slower than usual, as though she were mentally reorganizing everything she'd just seen. "Are you okay?" 

"I am!" Percy answered far too quickly. "Of course! Why wouldn't I be?" 

She tilted her head slightly. 

"Percy..." He recognized that tone immediately. It was the same one she always used when she was absolutely certain he was hiding something. "What were you doing?" 

"Me?" He laughed. It was an awful laugh, completely fake. "I already told you. Nothing." Annabeth kept staring at him, and Percy realized she wasn't going to fall for it. He rubbed the back of his neck. "I was just... um... trying to..." Another silence. "...it's something stupid." 

She didn't answer right away. She simply remained in the doorway, dagger hanging loosely at her side, waiting. 

It was a talent Annabeth had always possessed. She could stay perfectly silent until the other person felt compelled to fill the emptiness themselves. She could steer an entire conversation with nothing but a look, and with Percy, it worked almost every time. 

He let out a slow breath through his nose. 

"There's this..." He gestured vaguely with both hands, as though they might magically produce the right word. Naturally, they didn't. "...important dance thing." 

One of Annabeth's eyebrows rose ever so slightly. 

"And..." Percy continued, feeling more embarrassed with every syllable, "I wanted to know what I was supposed to do when the time came. So I wouldn't look as stupid as I did at... Westover." 

The moment the words left his mouth, he desperately wished he could grab them and shove them back in. 

Because Westover. 

Of course he'd mentioned Westover. 

The memory of the school dance, of Annabeth dragging him onto the dance floor while he nearly tripped over his own feet in front of half the gym, was still embarrassing enough to make him want to dig a hole and live in it. 

Annabeth's brown eyes widened just a little, as though all the pieces had finally clicked together inside that brilliant mind of hers. 

She nodded slowly. "Oh..." Percy almost relaxed. "Yeah. I get it." 

Great. 

She understood. 

And then came the rest. 

"Rachel's going to love that." 

Percy blinked. 

It took him exactly one second to realize what she thought she'd understood. 

What? 

Annabeth had already started turning away, clearly convinced the conversation was over. She had taken two steps off the cabin floor before Percy managed to react. 

"It's for my mom!" 

The words came out much louder than he'd intended, and he immediately felt embarrassed about that too, but they made Annabeth stop in her tracks. 

She stood still for a moment with her back to him before slowly turning her head over her shoulder. 

"It's for my mom," he repeated, this time much more quietly. 

Percy took a deep breath. He'd already embarrassed himself enough that there was no point trying to backtrack now. 

"My mom's marrying Paul next week," he explained, his voice noticeably softer. "And he thought it'd be nice if I danced with her. My mom..." He looked down at the floor for a moment, searching for the right words. "She's never really had a wedding. She never got to have a day like that, because when she married Smelly Gabe, it was all just... practical. They went straight to City Hall. So I figured if I could at least avoid making a complete fool of myself in front of the family of the man she loves, that would already be enough to help make it a good experience for her." 

The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. Annabeth kept looking at him, and Percy held her gaze for a few seconds before realizing what a terrible idea that was. The longer she looked at him, the more certain he became that there were still traces of his ridiculous attempt at dancing scattered all over the cabin. Chiron's old radio still sat on the desk, the blanket had slipped halfway off the bed and onto the floor, a chair had been shoved into the corner after he'd nearly knocked it over, and he himself probably looked like someone who had just lost a fight with a wardrobe. 

For one brief moment, Percy seriously considered grabbing the dagger she was holding and sparing himself the rest of the humiliation by driving the blade straight into his own neck. 

Instead, Annabeth simply stepped the rest of the way inside the cabin. She walked through the doorway without saying a word and quietly closed the door behind her with a soft click. 

The cabin immediately felt smaller. 

A fresh scent that reminded him of sun-warmed grass after an entire morning of training, something citrusy like freshly cut lemons, mixed with the sweet scent of the coconut hair cream she'd used for as long as he could remember, filled the room. It smelled unmistakably... like Annabeth. 

The completely involuntary thought that he would be sleeping in that room later, with her scent still lingering in the air, crossed his mind just quickly enough for him to immediately wish it hadn't. 

Annabeth let her eyes wander around the cabin before turning her attention to the radio. 

"Was that Landslide?" 

It took Percy a second to realize she'd asked a question. 

"You know Fleetwood Mac?" 

She shrugged as she casually walked farther into the cabin. 

"My dad likes them." 

"Oh..." 

It was far too small a response to keep a conversation going, but Percy was much too busy watching her movements to come up with anything better. 

Annabeth stopped beside the small fountain in the corner of the room and set her dagger down with the same casual ease someone might use to leave a set of keys on an entryway table. Then she walked over to Chiron's radio, lowered her head to examine the old buttons, and pressed one of them. 

The machine crackled, and a second later, the song started over from the beginning. 

Percy blinked. 

"What are you doing?" 

She didn't answer right away. She simply waited until the opening chords filled the cabin once more before turning to face him. Then she walked toward him without the slightest hesitation, as though what she was about to do were the most obvious thing in the world. 

"I'm helping you." 

Percy simply stared at her, completely lost. 

She tilted her head slightly, the faintest smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. 

"Or do you think spinning around by yourself is the same thing as leading someone in a dance, Seaweed Brain?" 

Annabeth closed the distance between them with the same matter-of-fact confidence she'd have if she were about to teach someone how to handle a sword instead of how to dance. She raised her left hand and rested it lightly on his shoulder, adjusting his posture almost absentmindedly, while extending her other hand between them. 

Percy took a moment to react. 

Not because he didn't understand what she wanted—a dance position was fairly obvious—but because his brain had apparently stopped cooperating with the rest of his body the moment she'd stepped into the cabin. 

Her hand on his shoulder was the first time they had touched since the kiss at Mount St. Helens. 

He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it until he felt the warmth of her hand resting there. The contact was small, almost insignificant, yet it sent a slow shiver up his spine. It was ridiculous. After facing gods, monsters, and an erupting volcano, all it took was Annabeth placing a hand on him for his heart to completely forget how to keep a normal rhythm. 

When he lifted his own hand to meet hers, they both closed the distance at the same time, meeting halfway without either of them having to fully extend an arm. Her fingers wrapped around his with quiet confidence, warm and steady, and Percy had to summon every ounce of concentration he possessed not to think about how long it had been since they'd stood this close to each other. 

His free hand found the middle of her back almost instinctively, and he couldn't help comparing it to before. 

At Westover, when they'd danced together for the first time, everything had felt improvised. Both of Annabeth's hands had rested on his shoulders because neither of them had the faintest idea how a slow dance was actually supposed to work. She was convinced she didn't know how to simply be an ordinary girl, and he was an idiot. They had just been two teenagers pretending they knew what they were doing. 

Now, something was different. 

Their posture had changed. One of her hands rested on his shoulder, his supported her back, and their joined hands maintained a distance that felt carefully measured. It was a position he'd seen hundreds of times at weddings, in old movies, and even with couples back at Westover, but he'd never imagined himself standing in it. Suddenly, it all felt far too grown-up for two fifteen-year-old demigods. 

Percy lowered his chin slightly, studying her. 

He had almost forgotten what Annabeth looked like from this close. She was noticeably shorter than his memory insisted on remembering, and her thick braid swayed gently down her back every time she shifted her weight. A few small brown braids had escaped around her beautiful face, catching the sunlight still filtering through the gaps in the cabin windows, and her cheeks remained pink from the afternoon heat. 

She was unbelievably beautiful. 

It almost seemed unfair. 

Annabeth, however, wasn't looking at him. Her attention remained fixed on their feet, completely focused. 

"Take a step forward." 

Percy obeyed, and she stepped back at the exact same moment. 

"Now your left." He did it. "Not that big." She adjusted him. "There." 

Her voice was calm and patient, and Percy realized she followed every movement they made without ever lifting her eyes. She watched their feet glide across the cabin floor, studying the position of their legs, the distance between each step, correcting small things before they had the chance to become mistakes. 

"You're putting too much weight on your front leg." He tried to adjust, a little distracted by how close they were standing. "Relax your shoulders a little. I can feel the tension under my fingers." Percy took a deep breath. "I don't bite." 

Ha! Easy for her to say, because every instinct he had insisted she absolutely would. Not in a good way, either—assuming there even was one. 

Annabeth had no idea what it was like trying to think while standing close enough to catch the scent of coconut hair cream mixed with fresh lemon every time she breathed. She had no idea how difficult it was to pretend that resting his hand against her back felt perfectly ordinary when, in reality, his brain was treating every inch of that closeness as something far too important to ignore. 

Even so, little by little, the movements began to feel more natural. 

The steps stopped feeling like a series of isolated instructions and started following the rhythm of the music instead. Percy realized he didn't need to memorize anything. He only had to follow Annabeth. Whenever she stepped back, he moved forward. Whenever she slowed down, he slowed down too. It wasn't really about knowing how to dance. It was about paying attention to her. And he couldn't help thinking that maybe he should have paid more attention to her after everything that had happened in the Labyrinth. 

As though she'd somehow read his thoughts, Annabeth seemed satisfied. 

She didn't say anything, of course. She simply stopped watching their feet and, little by little, lifted her head. 

Her brown eyes met his. 

Percy was already looking at her, far too distracted to look away, drowning in the sea of chocolate-colored eyes staring back at him. 

For one brief moment, neither of them moved. The music continued filling the cabin, and their steps carried on almost automatically, but all Percy could focus on were those eyes, finally locked on his once again. 

Please. The plea surfaced before he even realized he'd thought it. Don't look away. Just this once. Please stay a little longer. 

He didn't know whether it lasted a second or ten. All he knew was that, for the first time in a very long while, Annabeth was looking at him as though there were nothing left to correct except the distance the two of them had placed between themselves over the past few weeks. 

Before Percy realized it, the final notes of Landslide began fading into the old radio's static. The song came to an end so gently that neither of them seemed to notice right away. Their feet stopped moving, but neither of them let go of the dance position. His hand remained resting against her waist. Their fingers were still intertwined. Annabeth's hand still rested lightly on his shoulder. 

Neither of them was the first to step away, and Percy couldn't have said how long they stayed like that. 

Maybe a few seconds, maybe just long enough for it to feel far too short. 

It never would have been enough. 

There was no argument filling the silence between them. No teasing remarks, no sharp retorts, no urgent subject pulling the conversation in another direction. There were only the two of them, standing in the middle of the cabin, looking at each other as though they were finally having the conversation they'd been avoiding ever since Mount St. Helens. 

Annabeth's eyes were still the same. The same eyes that were far too intelligent and far too honest to hide anything for very long. 

Percy had the strange feeling they were speaking without opening their mouths. 

Talking about that kiss neither of them had mentioned since that day. Talking about Rachel, about the prophecy hanging over his head like a sword waiting to fall, about Luke. About the fact that every time they tried to be close to each other, they somehow found a way to hurt one another. 

About themselves. 

There were so many questions lodged in Percy's throat that he wouldn't have known which one to ask first. He wanted to ask why she'd seemed so distant ever since the volcano. He wanted to know whether she was still angry with him. Whether she still thought about that kiss. Whether that was why she'd brought up Rachel so casually only minutes earlier. He wanted to tell her that avoiding her hadn't made anything easier. 

It had only made everything harder. 

But he remained silent, because there was something in her gaze that seemed far too fragile to interrupt with words. 

Annabeth was the one who finally broke the moment. 

She cleared her throat softly, as though reminding herself to return to reality, then let go of his hand before taking a step backward. Her fingers automatically reached for the loose curls that had escaped from her thick braid, tucking them behind her ear in a small, almost nervous gesture. 

"I hope everything goes well at the wedding." 

She sounded sincere. 

Percy felt the distance she'd just created almost like a physical force, and before he had time to think, he took a step toward her. 

"Annabeth..." 

She answered by taking another step back. 

It was slow and careful. Like someone who genuinely wanted to keep that distance before either of them got hurt again. 

She lifted both hands between them, palms open, in a silent gesture that held nothing aggressive. 

It was simply a request: Don't come any closer. 

And Percy obeyed. 

Only then did he realize she wasn't looking at him anymore. Her brown eyes stayed fixed somewhere else in the cabin, on the window, the unmade bed, Chiron's old radio, anywhere but him. 

"Bye, Percy." 

She walked over to the small fountain where she'd left her dagger, picked it up with the same casual ease she'd set it down minutes earlier, and crossed the cabin without hesitation. The door opened, letting in the distant sounds of camp for just a moment, before quietly closing again behind her. 

Percy remained exactly where he was. 

The cabin felt strangely empty now. 

Her scent still lingered in the air, mingling with the smell of old wood and saltwater that always clung to Cabin Three. The radio was still on, producing nothing but a low hiss as it waited for another cassette, but not even that was enough to fill the silence that had settled over the room. 

Percy took a deep breath, breathing in the last traces of her perfume and the emptiness in his chest. 

Being close to her hurt. 

Being away from her hurt even more. 

2 

Percy knew he was being rude. In fact, he'd known it long enough that he should have already looked away, walked over to her, and handed her one of the two drinks he was holding. That had been the original plan, after all. Annabeth would catch up with a few friends from boarding school for a couple of minutes, he'd grab the drinks, and before the ice had a chance to melt, the two of them would be back together. A simple plan, perfectly manageable, one that would have worked just fine if Annabeth Chase hadn't been wearing the most beautiful dress Percy had ever seen in his entire life. 

He simply couldn't stop looking at her from across the room, taking in the whole picture. 

The dress was violet. Not quite dark purple, not quite deep blue, but something exactly in between. Percy would never have been able to explain it using fashion terms or color theory, but it looked as though someone had mixed his two favorite colors together until they'd found the perfect shade. Beneath the ballroom chandeliers, the fabric seemed to shift in color every time she moved, sometimes leaning more toward blue, sometimes catching purplish highlights that made the dress seem almost luminous. 

The thin straps left her shoulders completely bare, the neckline was elegant without being too much, and the fitted waist allowed the skirt to fall in soft layers all the way to the floor. Earlier that afternoon, Annabeth had complained at least three different times that she should have had the hem shortened because the dress was too long. Percy remembered listening to her grumble as she tried to walk around his apartment without stepping on it. But now, watching her cross the ballroom without tripping even once, he'd come to the conclusion that she probably complained as a hobby. The length was perfect. 

The shoes, on the other hand, remained a complete mystery to everyone else. 

She was wearing a pair of black ankle boots with high heels that seemed to defy every law of logic. Percy had seen Annabeth climb mountains, fight every kind of monster imaginable, sprint across collapsing bridges, and stand her ground against enemies much bigger than she was. Even so, none of those feats seemed nearly as impressive as watching her walk effortlessly in those heels. If a god claimed that wearing them required divine powers, Percy would have believed it without question. 

Her hair was different that night, too. The braids she usually wore were gone. Her natural hair, long and beautiful, had been swept into an elegant updo, with only a few loose strands and carefully styled baby hairs framing her face. Her makeup was subtle (done by Sally, by the way), but it highlighted her enormous brown eyes even more, and Percy caught himself thinking, for the third time that evening, that it was profoundly unfair for one person to be that beautiful without even seeming to try. 

She was talking with two girls near one of the ballroom windows. She spoke with her hands, laughed at something one of them said, and every now and then tilted her head in that way she always did when she was listening carefully to someone. Percy had no idea what they were talking about, nor did he particularly care. He was much too busy watching the ballroom lights reflect against her dress, making it seem as though gentle violet waves followed her every movement. 

He had probably been staring for too long, because one of the girls noticed first. 

Percy watched as she cast an amused glance over Annabeth's shoulder, clearly trying to figure out what had captured her friend's boyfriend's attention so completely. Annabeth instinctively followed her gaze, and the moment her eyes found his across the ballroom, a smile spread across her face so effortlessly that Percy completely forgot he was still holding two drinks. 

It wasn't the polite smile she gave teachers, parents, or people from school.  

It was the smile she reserved for him. 

Small at first, then growing wider, brightening her entire face until Percy found himself smiling back without even realizing it. 

She raised a hand in a small wave, then gestured for him to come over. 

Percy responded exactly the way any hopelessly in-love boyfriend would. 

He waved back and, without realizing he was doing it, quickened his pace toward her like an eager puppy. 

When he finally reached them, he handed one of the drinks to Annabeth. She accepted it immediately before slipping an arm around his waist and gently pulling him closer with a natural ease that never failed to amaze Percy. So what if they'd been dating for almost two years? Seeing her so comfortable with public displays of affection was always quietly delightful. He liked it when it was obvious to everyone else what they were to each other. Automatically, he draped an arm over her shoulders while she rested her cup lightly against her chest for a moment. 

"So you're Percy," the first girl said. She had curly brown hair tied into a high ponytail and the kind of warm smile that belonged to someone who made friends wherever she went. "I'm Brie." 

"So we finally get to meet the celebrity," the other girl said with a nod in Percy's direction. "Evelyn." 

He nodded politely to both of them. 

"Nice to meet you." 

Brie shot Annabeth an amused look before turning back to Percy. 

"You show up in pretty much all of her stories." 

Annabeth let out an immediate snort of laughter. 

"That's an exaggeration." 

"Is it?" Evelyn raised an eyebrow. "Because I'm pretty sure during our first semester you somehow managed to bring Percy up during a conversation about Greek architecture." 

"That seems like a pretty easy association," Annabeth replied. 

"We were talking about Doric columns." 

Percy slowly turned his head toward his girlfriend, but she carefully avoided looking at him. 

"How exactly did I come up in a conversation about columns?" 

Annabeth took a sip of her punch with complete composure. 

"I don't remember." 

Percy was smiling so much his face was beginning to hurt. 

"So you talk about me a lot, huh?" 

She finally looked at him, narrowing her eyes. 

"Don't get used to it." 

Before Percy could come up with anything clever to say, the opening notes of a slow song drifted through the ballroom speakers. The hum of conversation softened as several couples rose from their tables and naturally made their way toward the center of the dance floor. 

Brie watched the movement with a faint smile and exchanged a knowing glance with Evelyn. Both of them looked back at Percy and Annabeth almost simultaneously, and Percy had the distinct feeling they'd figured out exactly what was happening long before either of them had. 

"I think we've monopolized you two long enough," Brie said, lightly nudging her friend's arm. 

"Yeah, and, well..." Evelyn added, already taking a step backward, "he's spent the last five minutes looking at you like he'd forgotten there was anyone else in this ballroom. It would be cruel of us to keep standing here." 

Annabeth's cheeks turned a shade of pink nearly as lovely as her dress. 

And Percy had the good sense not to deny it. 

The two girls laughed at their perfectly synchronized reactions. 

"It was really nice finally meeting you, Percy," Brie said. "Now go dance with your girlfriend before this song is over." 

"She spent weeks picking out that dress," Evelyn added. "It'd be a shame not to make the most of it." 

Without waiting for a reply, the two of them waved goodbye and headed back toward the rest of the graduating class, quickly disappearing into the growing crowd gathering on the dance floor. 

Percy watched them leave for a moment before turning back to Annabeth. She was already looking at him, holding her cup in both hands and shaking her head with a mixture of amusement and resignation. 

"I really don't talk about you that much." 

Percy smiled with the smug expression that only appeared when he knew he'd won an argument before it had even begun. 

"If this is what you call not talking about me much, I'd love to hear what happens when you actually do." 

She rolled her eyes, though a smile escaped anyway. 

Without taking his eyes off hers, Percy gently took the cup of soda from her hands. Their fingers brushed for a brief second, and Annabeth offered no resistance as he stepped away just far enough to set both cups on the table behind her. When he returned, he reached for her again as naturally as breathing, taking both of her hands in his as though there were nowhere else in the world they belonged. 

She arched an amused eyebrow. 

"Well, well..." 

Percy smirked. 

"What?" 

"Nothing." 

She clearly had something she wanted to say but decided to keep it to herself. Instead, she simply let him lace his fingers through hers. 

Percy slowly began walking backward, guiding her toward the center of the dance floor as Until I Found You played. He wasn't pulling her, only leading enough for her to follow his steps. Annabeth came without the slightest hesitation, looking directly at him as they crossed the brightly lit ballroom. Around them, other couples filled the dance floor, but Percy barely noticed any of them. His entire attention remained fixed on the girl walking toward him, her violet dress gliding across the polished floor like water, the small smile on her face growing just a little wider with every step. 

When they reached the center of the floor, he released one of her hands only long enough to settle the other carefully against her waist. His palm met the soft fabric of her dress, and Percy could feel the warmth of her body through it. Almost immediately, Annabeth rested her free hand on his shoulder while their fingers intertwined once more between them. 

It was impossible not to think about the first time. 

That night at Westover, she'd practically dragged him onto the dance floor. Percy could still hear her telling him they had to convince everyone they were just two teenagers enjoying the dance, when in reality they were on a mission to rescue two demigods. She had directed everything. She'd positioned them, decided where their hands belonged, determined when they moved with the music and when they stepped apart. Percy had simply followed her lead, stumbling a little less than expected while trying to ignore the fact that dancing with Annabeth was absurdly enjoyable for someone pretending absolutely nothing was happening between them. 

Now it was different. 

Without even realizing when it had happened, he'd learned. 

Now Percy was the one leading. The one who slowed or quickened their pace with the music. The one guiding small turns to avoid bumping into the other couples, naturally finding the open spaces between them. Annabeth didn't seem remotely concerned about correcting his steps this time the way she had back in Cabin Three. She simply followed him with a quiet confidence that warmed his chest more than any compliment ever could. 

"I think it's safe to say this is our song." 

He spoke softly, his words nearly disappearing beneath the music. 

"I agree." 

She let out a quiet laugh when he spun her beneath his arm before drawing her gently back against his chest, making her smooth the lapel of his navy suit jacket with absentminded care. 

"I think we've come full circle. Back then, I was the one guiding everything. Neither of us really knew what we were doing, just trying to fit into a high school dance..." She looked up at him with a smile. "And now look at us. My boyfriend is spinning me around at a graduation ball, knowing exactly what he's doing, and somehow we've found exactly where we belong." 

Just because she'd said that, Percy spun her around once more, looking entirely too pleased with himself. 

"And I still haven't stepped on your feet." 

Annabeth lifted her eyes to his, amusement shining in them. 

"You had an excellent teacher, Seaweed Brain." 

They fell quiet for a few moments, the kind of silence that was just as much a part of the conversation as any words could be. Percy watched her as they danced, noticing the little details hardly anyone else ever would. The violet shimmer of her dress whenever she turned, the way the skirt swayed with every movement, the loose curls that had escaped her elegant updo and bounced softly beside her face, the way her brown eyes seemed to change color as the ballroom lights caught them whenever she moved. 

She was beautiful. 

Not simply pretty. 

She was truly beautiful in the kind of way that made Percy completely forget there was anyone else in the world. 

Annabeth was watching him, too. 

Percy realized it when she smiled to herself, as though she'd just noticed something. 

"What?" 

"Nothing." 

"You're definitely thinking about something." 

The song was already coming to an end, so instead of pressing her, Percy simply pulled her a little closer, wrapping both arms around her as she rested her head against his chest and gently swayed with the last notes of the music. 

He wanted time to stop. 

He wanted to live in that moment forever. 

"I love you." 

She said it so quietly it almost disappeared into the music, revealing what she'd been thinking all along. 

For one terrifying second, Percy was convinced he might actually have a heart attack.  

He didn't think he'd ever get used to hearing those words, no matter how many times she said them. 

By then, the music had already shifted to something faster and livelier, but neither of them moved. They stayed right where they were, holding each other, swaying together in a world entirely their own, caring about nothing and no one except each other. 

3 

Annabeth liked to believe there was a logical explanation for everything. If something didn't work on the first try, it was because there was a flaw in the process. 

All she had to do was identify the incorrect variable, adjust the execution, and try again. That was how architectural designs worked, military strategies, equations, ancient languages, and just about every other skill she'd ever decided to learn. So, as she stirred the tomato sauce for the third time and checked the recipe covered in handwritten notes for what had to be the twelfth, she flatly refused to accept that cooking was some mysterious talent people were simply born with. It was simple: she just had to follow the recipe. 

She had called Sally as soon as she'd left her internship that afternoon. Sally had explained everything with her usual patience while Annabeth carefully wrote down measurements, cooking times, and temperatures with the seriousness of someone taking notes on how to build Mount Olympus. Then, just to make sure she wasn't forgetting anything important, she'd called Paul, who'd added a few suggestions of his own about letting the sauce simmer for a few extra minutes and never skimping on the cheese. If the two people who made the best lasagna she'd ever tasted had both taught her the recipe, statistically speaking, there was no way it could turn out badly. 

Or at least, that was what she kept telling herself. 

The apartment smelled of tomatoes, sautéed garlic, fresh basil, and cheese. The small kitchen still felt new to both of them, even though they'd been living there for several months. A few boxes of books still leaned against the living room wall, waiting for the day they'd finally be unpacked. A plant Percy stubbornly insisted would survive was heroically trying to prove him right from the windowsill, and the refrigerator was already covered with notes held up by crooked magnets: the grocery list, Annabeth's internship schedule, Percy's exam calendar, and an adorable little sketch of Blackjack that Percy had doodled on a scrap of paper one day while absentmindedly scribbling with a pencil because he was bored. 

Annabeth smiled to herself at the thought as she spread another layer of sauce over the pasta. 

She was barefoot, wearing a pair of denim shorts almost completely hidden beneath a black Star Wars T-shirt she'd stolen from Percy months ago and that, by this point, could officially be considered hers. The oversized sleeves reached her elbows, the hem covered half her thighs, and every one of her braids had been pinned up on top of her head with a large claw clip because cooking with her hair down was an objectively terrible idea. The wired earbuds blocked out every other sound in the apartment, while Joe Cocker's unmistakably raspy voice filled her ears with You Are So Beautiful. Without realizing it, she quietly sang along as she finished arranging the first layer of lasagna, gently swaying to the slow rhythm of the song, good mood flowing through her veins and along the earbud wires connected to the iPod tucked into the pocket of her shorts. 

And would you look at that. 

The sauce actually looked pretty good. 

It wasn't exactly like Sally's, nor did it resemble Paul's version all that closely. But considering this was her first serious attempt at making an entire lasagna by herself, Annabeth decided she was performing well above average. She picked up the saucepan to pour another ladle of sauce and, pleased with herself, spun lightly on her bare feet before returning to the counter, where the baking dish waited for its next layer. 

The problem was that the spin ended with Percy standing directly in front of her. 

She jumped so hard she nearly dropped the saucepan. 

Even startled, the very first thing she noticed was the expression on his face. 

Percy was leaning casually against the counter, resting on one elbow with his cheek propped in the palm of his hand. He didn't look tired, nor did he seem worried about the exam he'd spent the entire week studying for and had taken earlier that day. He didn't even seem particularly interested in the lasagna. His blue eyes were fixed entirely on her, carrying that absurdly peaceful expression he always wore whenever he watched her without thinking she'd notice. It was a look so full of affection, quiet admiration, and almost childlike happiness that Annabeth immediately wanted to cross the kitchen and kiss him, even though it was obvious he'd probably been standing there for several seconds and maybe even a full minute. 

Instead, she pressed a hand against her chest and laughed at her own fright. 

"You almost gave me a heart attack." 

His lips moved in reply, but Annabeth didn't hear a single word. 

Only then did she remember she was still wearing her earbuds. She reached up to remove one of them, but Percy crossed the short distance between them before she could finish the motion. Gently, he caught her hand halfway, stopping her, and naturally wrapped his fingers around hers as he took the earbud she'd just pulled free. 

She stayed perfectly still, simply watching as Percy, without saying a single word, placed her earbud into his own ear. 

A faint smile immediately appeared on his face. 

"Joe Cocker?" Annabeth nodded. "Good choice." 

As he spoke, he glanced briefly at the saucepan she was still balancing in one hand and at the ladle she'd abandoned inside it when he'd startled her. Annabeth watched every movement without interrupting as Percy took the pan from her hands as though it were the most natural thing in the world, set it back on the stove, lowered the heat slightly, stirred the sauce two or three times, then rested the lid loosely on top. 

The whole thing took less than ten seconds. 

None of those gestures were particularly grand. Percy didn't even seem aware that he was doing something thoughtful. He simply did it because, to him, helping her free up her hands, keeping the sauce warm, and quietly pitching in was the most natural thing in the world. 

Annabeth watched him with a smile that kept growing. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked softly, still listening to the song through the shared earbud, now about halfway through. 

"I like it when you take care of me without even realizing you're doing it." 

He opened his mouth to answer, but apparently no response seemed good enough. Annabeth knew that whenever she said things like that to him, it was as though she altered her boyfriend's brain chemistry. 

Which was exactly why she said them. 

Instead of replying, Percy stepped a little closer. His arms slowly wrapped around her waist, and Annabeth almost sighed as the oversized T-shirt was gently pressed between them. The embrace was so familiar that her body relaxed before she even had time to think about it. Her own arms instinctively found their usual place, sliding over Percy's shoulders until they clasped behind his neck while her head naturally came to rest against his chest. 

The two of them still shared the earbuds, listening to the very same song. 

Percy began swaying ever so slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, and Annabeth smiled before she even found herself following the movement. There wasn't nearly enough room in the kitchen for an elaborate dance, but that wasn't what they needed anyway. They moved only a few inches to one side, then the other, letting Joe Cocker's voice set the rhythm while they remained wrapped in each other's arms between the stove and the counter. 

She could hear the beat of his heart blending with the music. 

"How was the exam?" she asked, lifting her head. She slipped her hand into his, and Percy drew their joined hands against his chest without stopping their slow dance. 

Percy took a few seconds before answering. 

"I think it went well. Thanks for helping me with the flashcards and for reviewing everything with me." 

"I'm sure you're just being modest. You studied harder than you ever have, and you deserve a perfect grade. I'm really proud of you." 

He laughed, lowering his head until his forehead rested against hers. 

"And thank you for the lasagna, sweetheart." 

Annabeth felt a flutter in her stomach. She'd never gotten used to hearing him call her by affectionate nicknames. 

"Oh, this little thing?" she said with mock nonchalance. "It was nothing." 

Percy laughed again, deciding to keep to himself the fact that Sally had texted him earlier asking whether Annabeth had managed the lasagna or if she needed another phone call. It made him wonder just how many times his girlfriend must have called his parents to make sure dinner turned out well, considering cooking had never exactly been her greatest strength. 

The song continued playing, now nearing its end. The lasagna remained forgotten on the counter, and the sauce quietly simmered behind them, but nothing felt important enough to interrupt the moment. 

"I really like lasagna," he said casually. 

"I know you do," she replied. 

Percy let one of his hands drift a few inches along her back in a gentle, absentminded caress. 

"But do you know what I like even more?" She waited. "Coming home after a difficult exam and finding you wearing one of my T-shirts, dancing by yourself in the kitchen while trying to cook a recipe that probably went wrong in at least five different places, because no human being should be capable of dirtying that many dishes just to make a lasagna." 

Annabeth let out an indignant laugh. 

"Hey!" 

"And you haven't even put it in the oven yet." 

"That doesn't mean it went wrong." 

"No." He smiled. "Actually, it smells really good." 

"Are you patronizing me?" She lightly smacked his shoulder, never stopping their slow dance. 

He leaned in just enough to brush his nose against hers. "I never could." 

"Besides," he continued softly, "I'm pretty sure any meal becomes the best meal in the world when it's made by the person I love after she spends her entire afternoon trying to make it just for me." 

Annabeth didn't answer. 

She thought she might actually cry from how much she loved him. 

Instead, she simply tightened her arms a little more around his neck and hid her smile against his cheek as they continued swaying slowly to the music, completely forgetting about the lasagna, which, for the first time since she'd started making it, was no longer the most important part of her day. 

Then again, she was secretly very grateful the kitchen was so small. 

She didn't want dinner to burn, either. 

4 

They would never understand the appeal of college parties. 

The decision to go that night had come far more from their friends' persistence than from any genuine desire on either of their parts. Percy would have much rather spent the evening at the apartment after his last exam of the semester, ordered takeout, and gone to bed early like an old man. Annabeth, if she'd been left alone, would probably have been organizing her internship notes or starting another architectural project. Neither of them liked crowds, neither of them was particularly sociable around strangers, and neither of them cared much for drinking. Even so, after hearing for the tenth time that "it was tradition" to celebrate the end of finals that way in New Rome, they finally accepted an invitation to a house they weren't even entirely sure how to find, from a guy whose name they had both forgotten before they even arrived. 

At the beginning of the night, they did exactly what they always did: stayed a little away from the center of the room, sharing the same cup of soda until one of their classmates placed a brightly colored drink into Percy's hand and another into Annabeth's, insisting that "just this once" they needed to relax. After the second drink, the conversations became lighter. After the third, Percy no longer cared about how loud the music was or the fact that he was surrounded by dozens of people he'd never seen before in his life. The only thing that still held his attention was Annabeth. 

She seemed different too, paying very little attention to the things that would normally have bothered her. 

Not that alcohol had completely transformed her. She was still Annabeth, just a little less concerned with controlling every gesture, every word, every little thing she usually kept measured and carefully restrained around everyone except Percy. There was a new spontaneity in her smile now, a rare lightness in the way she laughed at the simplest things, as though the weight of weeks of exams had finally slipped from her shoulders. 

When a song from the 2000s filled the room, someone turned the volume up even higher. Then another followed, and another from the same era, mixing artists Percy knew only by name and by their unmistakable beats. He had no idea which Beyoncé song was playing, nor would he have recognized the next one, but all it took was watching the couples scattered around the room to understand that those songs had been made for dancing like this. 

What happened was that Annabeth was the first to close the distance between them. It wasn't the first time (not even close, by the way) that she'd taken the lead, but every time she did, Percy loved it. 

She took a step back and turned around until her back rested against his chest, as though it were the most natural thing in the world to do with the music playing, and Percy, just as tipsy as she was, needed only a second to understand where his hands belonged. His fingers settled on her hips, a little lower than usual, somewhere they had never rested before in public. There wasn't enough hesitation to break the moment, only the quiet awareness that this was something new for both of them in front of so many people. 

Even though, in reality, no one cared. 

Annabeth didn't pull away when his fingers touched the bare skin of her hips. Instead, her own hands slowly rose to the back of his neck, finding the short curls that formed little waves there. Percy knew that touch from their teenage years. She always absentmindedly played with those curls while they talked or lay together on the couch. Or during one of their make-out sessions that always made him feel a little closer to Elysium. This time, though, her fingers weren't simply returning to a familiar habit. They slowly curled each strand around themselves, lingering there as though discovering a texture she'd known for years. 

The music kept a steady rhythm, and her hips were the first to follow it with unmistakable confidence. 

Damn. 

Percy simply followed. 

He had never learned to dance like that. He didn't know whether he was doing it right, nor did it seem to matter. All he had to do was watch Annabeth move for a few seconds before his own body instinctively mirrored her. It was almost funny to realize that even in a dance he had never learned, he was still doing what he'd done his entire life: 

Following Annabeth. 

To be honest, the alcohol made everything easier. 

Worries disappeared before they even had a chance to form, and the shyness that would normally have both of them laughing awkwardly within a minute seemed to dissolve beneath the dim lights of the host's living room, the loud music, and the pleasant feeling of not having to think about anything at all. 

Percy closed the distance between them even more, letting their hips move together with the music. His right arm slipped around Annabeth's waist until it crossed gently in front of her, his hand coming to rest on the strip of bare skin between the hem of her top and the low waistband of her jeans. His palm settled there gently, his thumb brushing lightly across her stomach, warmed by the direct contact with her skin. He felt her take a slightly deeper breath, but instead of pulling away, Annabeth relaxed completely against him, allowing their movements to blend together until they felt like one. 

Gods, she knew how to move her hips. 

Percy simply followed. 

Sometimes he moved a fraction of a beat ahead, sometimes a fraction behind, earning a smile that spread effortlessly across her face. The laugh started small, her lower lip caught briefly between her teeth, but soon escaped completely. It was different from the laugh he heard every day. It wasn't the satisfied smile she wore after solving a difficult problem or the laugh brought on by one of his jokes. It was light, almost disbelieving, the laugh of someone who couldn't quite believe the audacity of the two of them dancing like that to sexy songs from the 2000s at a college party. 

Percy smiled too, completely giving himself over to the moment. Her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol. Her eyes shimmered beneath the lights of the room, and there was something profoundly beautiful about the way she let her head tilt ever so slightly to the side while laughing and moving her hips against him, making his stomach tighten enough that he couldn't help pulling her even closer until their bodies were pressed together. As Annabeth relaxed, a small gap opened between her hair and the curve of her neck, and Percy, emboldened by the same reckless courage the alcohol seemed to lend them both, lowered his face toward it. 

His nose brushed lightly against her skin as they continued dancing. 

His lips found the corner of her smile in a series of brief, distracted kisses, almost hidden between one laugh and the next, his hand resting against her stomach, holding her gently while her fingers lightly scratched the back of his neck. 

Annabeth shivered in a reaction so subtle she probably didn't even notice it herself. Her smile, which under any other circumstances might have faded, only grew wider. 

She turned her face a little farther toward him, searching for him without actually looking at him, as though their closeness still wasn't enough. Then she turned all the way around in one smooth motion, remaining so close that there was practically no space left between them. His hands naturally followed the movement, one of them now resting low against the curve of her hip. He had forgotten to keep dancing. Her hands were still around the back of his neck as she gently pulled his face down a few inches. 

She leaned close to his ear. 

"Let's go home?" 

Percy answered the only way that felt possible. 

He kissed her. 

It was a crooked kiss, interrupted by laughter and the occasional bump into someone as they started making their way across the room without ever quite separating. Someone had to step aside to let them pass. Another guy raised his drink just in time to avoid a collision. The two of them kept walking without the slightest hurry, their faces still close together, stealing short kisses between one step and the next. By the time they finally reached the front door, the music had already changed, but their bodies were still moving to the same rhythm, as though the dance had decided to follow them out of the party, where they would finish it the way they always did. 

At home. 

5 

Percy loved Montauk, for everything that beach had meant to him since childhood. 

Sitting on the sand, still warm from the early afternoon sun, wearing nothing but a pair of swim trunks, he rested his forearms on his bent knees while the salty breeze dried the droplets of seawater still clinging to his hair. Not that he actually needed it. He could have dried himself in an instant. But, just then, he wanted to feel a little more human than god. 

The waves broke before him with the same steady rhythm they always had throughout his childhood, and for the first time in weeks, there wasn't an exam to study for, an internship waiting for him the next morning, or any responsibility more pressing than deciding how long it would take before he went back into the water. 

Even so, his eyes never lingered on the ocean for very long. 

They always drifted back to the same place. 

Annabeth and Estelle were playing at the water's edge as though that stretch of beach had been built exclusively for the two of them. 

Estelle was at the age where every new discovery deserved the biggest laugh in the world. Her colorful swimsuit, trimmed with little ruffles that covered part of her legs, was completely soaked by now, as was the matching sunhat that kept slipping backward every time she ran. Her children's sunglasses were much too large for her face, and every few minutes they slid down her nose, forcing her to push them back up with a very serious little gesture that lasted less than a second before another smile broke free. 

Annabeth, meanwhile, had already given up on any attempt to keep her appearance intact. Her navy-blue swimsuit with thin straps contrasted beautifully against her dark skin, lightly bronzed by the summer sun. Her brown eyes were hidden behind retro sunglasses, and the braided hairstyle with loose curls that had started the day so carefully arranged now hung completely free down her back. Percy had watched that hairstyle lose the battle little by little. First a splash from Estelle, then another, then a completely soaking hug. A few more minutes of playing, and Annabeth had simply accepted that trying to fix her hair again was a lost cause. 

The funny thing was, she didn't seem to mind in the slightest. 

Percy knew Annabeth well enough to know that if he'd been the one soaking her braids five or six times in a row, he probably would've earned a not-so-kind lecture about learning to control his own movements. 

Estelle, however, seemed to exist in an entirely different category. 

She had a free pass. 

The little girl accidentally splashed water everywhere, hugged Annabeth while dripping wet, flailed her arms in every direction and managed to soak both of them all over again, yet the only thing she ever received in return was laughter. 

And there was something profoundly beautiful about the way Annabeth looked at his little sister. 

She never treated Estelle like a child who merely needed to be entertained. She knelt to meet her at eye level whenever she spoke, asked questions as though every answer truly mattered, celebrated the smallest victories in their games with genuine enthusiasm, and allowed Estelle to believe, for a few precious minutes, that she really could drag an entire grown woman into the ocean using nothing but the strength of her tiny arms, exactly as she was trying to do at that very moment. 

Estelle held both of Annabeth's hands and walked backward across the wet sand, leaning her whole body into the effort as she tried to pull her toward deeper water. Annabeth pretended to resist, digging her feet dramatically into the sand with such an exaggerated expression of determination that the little girl laughed so loudly Percy could hear her from where he sat. 

Then, just as happened in every game they played together, Annabeth decided to lose on purpose. 

She allowed herself to be pulled a few more steps until the foam reached her legs, raised both hands theatrically in surrender, and let Estelle celebrate her victory by wrapping her arms awkwardly around Annabeth's waist. Before the little girl could run off again, Annabeth crouched down to straighten her hat, carefully adjusted the crooked sunglasses on her nose, and brushed away a strand of brown hair that stubbornly clung to her damp forehead. 

Percy smiled to himself. 

It wasn't the first time he'd seen Annabeth with Estelle, of course. In fact, ever since Sally and Paul had introduced her to the youngest member of the family five years earlier, it had seemed impossible to separate the two whenever they were together. Estelle followed Annabeth around the house asking endless questions, insisted she read bedtime stories whenever they spent a weekend in Montauk, and always made a point of holding her hand during every walk, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. 

And for Annabeth, perhaps it truly was. 

She took care of Estelle with the same quiet instinct she'd always taken care of him, even if the care itself looked different. She didn't do it out of obligation. 

She did it because it was simply part of who she was. 

Percy had never known anyone capable of loving so quietly. 

Annabeth didn't always say she loved him out loud. 

She showed it far more often than she said it. 

She adjusted his pillow whenever he fell asleep studying on the couch, remembered to buy his favorite cereal without him asking, showed up at the library with coffee for him—and hot chocolate for herself—during exam weeks, and asked about his day even when she came home exhausted from her internship. They were small gestures, almost invisible to anyone looking from the outside, but Percy had learned long ago that her love lived precisely in those moments. 

His own love looked different. 

It came through caring for her, protecting her, filling the quiet spaces with words of affirmation and actions that proved he was completely devoted to her. 

The point was that her care now extended to Estelle as well. 

She knelt to wipe away tears whenever the little girl tripped, celebrated sandcastles that collapsed five minutes later, and let Estelle teach her completely nonsensical games with the same concentration she'd devote to an architectural design. 

As he watched the two of them, Percy realized he was trying to remember how long it had been since he'd stopped thinking only about surviving. 

When he was twelve, surviving the summer had seemed like enough of an accomplishment. 

Then came the prophecy and everything that followed because of it. 

The years had been measured by how much time remained before he turned sixteen. 

The future ended there. 

There had never been any point imagining college, a career, or any distant plans because, for a very long time, he'd truly believed he would never reach adulthood. 

Even after the war against Kronos and later the war against Gaea, that habit had taken a long time to disappear. 

There was still a part of him that distrusted any happiness that lasted too long, as though the universe might decide to collect its debt at any moment. 

Little by little, he'd had to learn that some worries were simply ordinary. 

Studying for exams, complaining about professors, paying bills, looking for a new apartment, arguing over who had forgotten to buy dish soap, learning that life could be made up of a long string of completely ordinary days, and perhaps that was exactly what made those days extraordinary. 

Percy looked back at Annabeth. 

She was holding Estelle's hands while the two of them jumped over the smaller waves, completely out of sync with the rhythm of the sea. The little girl mistimed every jump, burst into laughter whenever the water reached her knees, and immediately tried again. Annabeth laughed with her, completely unconcerned with looking elegant, brilliant, or perfectly put together. 

That was when a thought came to him with unexpected clarity. 

He could picture this very same beach a few years from now. 

He could picture a little girl running barefoot across the sand, her curly hair tousled by the wind, her mother's brown eyes narrowed in frustration because a wave had knocked down the sandcastle she'd spent fifteen minutes building. He could picture Annabeth kneeling exactly as she was now, helping tiny hands rebuild lopsided towers of sand while pretending it was the most important architectural project in the world. He could picture himself keeping the ocean from washing away the little girl's castle, then wading into the water after a child who insisted on going just a little farther out, hearing Annabeth laugh because he was still far too protective, and realizing, somewhere in the middle of all that beautiful chaos, that life had finally allowed them to dream about ordinary things. 

The thought didn't frighten him. 

On the contrary, it filled his chest with such profound peace that it took Percy several seconds to understand what he was feeling. 

For years, the future had been a finish line too distant to be worth imagining. 

Now it had a face. 

It had a house waiting for them in New Rome after graduation; it had summers in Montauk. His parents were inside the cabin behind him preparing lunch at that very moment. It had evenings spent playing charades by the campfire. 

And, most importantly... 

It had Annabeth. 

Movement from the cabin pulled him from his thoughts. 

Sally was standing on the porch, one hand shading her eyes as she repeatedly waved toward the beach. Percy smiled when he noticed Annabeth following Sally's gesture before immediately pointing toward the house. Estelle turned her head, spotted her mother calling, and instantly seemed to understand that it could only mean one thing. 

The two of them started walking toward him. 

Estelle held Annabeth's hand, swinging their arms between each step and kicking little sprays of sand along the way. As soon as they were close enough, the little girl immediately let go of Annabeth's hand and walked over to her brother, instinctively tilting her face up toward him. Percy cupped her sea-damp cheek with one hand and pressed a lingering kiss there before affectionately ruffling the brown hair hidden beneath her adorable little sunhat. 

"Go on. Mom's calling us to eat." 

Estelle nodded so enthusiastically that Percy laughed. 

"Okay! Bye, Percy! Bye, Annabeth!" 

She took off toward the cabin at once, running as fast as her little legs would carry her while waving over her shoulder at both of them. 

Percy watched his sister until she reached Sally, who scooped her up into her arms before the two of them disappeared inside the house together. 

Only then did he turn back to Annabeth. 

She was still standing beside him, her damp hair spread over her shoulders, tiny droplets of water shimmering in the late afternoon sunlight. 

He stood up and held out his hand. 

"Tired?" he asked teasingly. 

"Not even a little," she replied, taking his hand and intertwining their fingers. 

She smiled as she removed her sunglasses and carefully tucked them into the towel they'd spread out on the sand. When she looked back at him, her brown eyes seemed even lighter beneath the afternoon sun. Percy's heart sped up the same way it had when he was twelve, whenever she looked at him long enough to make him forget his own name. 

Annabeth squeezed his fingers hard enough to make him laugh. 

They broke into a run at the same time, their feet sinking into the soft sand before reaching the wet shoreline. The cold water reached their ankles, then their knees, then their waists, and neither of them slowed down. Percy heard Annabeth burst into laughter when a larger wave crashed into them just before they dove beneath the surface together. 

For a moment, the world disappeared beneath the green-tinted water. 

The sounds of the beach were replaced by the familiar silence of the sea, broken only by the gentle movement of the water around their bodies. When they surfaced again, Annabeth's braids streamed down her back, tiny droplets clinging to her eyebrows as she tried to brush a loose strand away from her face. 

Percy made a mental note to help her undo her braids later so she could wash her curls in peace. 

Without thinking, he drifted closer. 

It was a movement as old as their relationship itself. 

Ever since they were teenagers, whenever there was water between them, their bodies had always seemed to find each other naturally. His arms slipped around Annabeth's waist beneath the surface, and she immediately wrapped hers around his bare shoulders. 

The waves did the rest. 

They pushed them gently backward, drew them together again, rocking them in a slow, steady rhythm that required no effort at all. Percy felt his feet lose contact with the sand for a few seconds and simply let the ocean support part of his weight. Annabeth did the same. 

Wrapped in each other's arms, they let the current carry them gently, swaying from side to side as though the ocean itself knew the perfect song for them. 

It was impossible not to think about dancing. 

This was simply another kind of dance they shared. 

The water lifted them together, lowered them together, drew their bodies close, then carried them just far enough apart that they found each other again a second later. Percy had never imagined the sea could be gentle in that way. He had always known it as an immense force, capable of destroying ships, raising storms, or hiding monsters in its depths. 

But that afternoon, it seemed to want nothing more than to cradle them, as though the entire ocean had decided to offer them a dance. Or perhaps he himself was unconsciously guiding the water without even realizing it; he couldn't tell. 

He kept looking at Annabeth long enough for her to notice. 

Her brown eyes met his blue ones with the same quiet softness they always had. 

She didn't ask why he was staring at her like that, and didn't tease him by asking whether there was something on her face. She didn't look away out of embarrassment. 

She simply stayed there, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders as she watched him in silence. 

Percy knew Annabeth well enough to understand that she was feeling something different too. 

He didn't know exactly what thoughts were passing through her mind, but he understood the emotion behind them. It was as though, after so many years of learning how to read one another, words had become almost unnecessary. 

He let another wave lift them again. 

As their bodies followed that slow rise and fall, his mind slipped back nearly ten years with remarkable ease. The sea rocked him in exactly the same way Annabeth once had while trying to teach a hopelessly awkward, painfully self-conscious boy how to follow the rhythm of a song at the Westover dance. 

That night, Percy had counted the steps under his breath so he wouldn't make a mistake, feeling his face burn hotter each time he became more aware of just how close they were. 

A year after that dance, he had believed it would be just another beautiful moment among so many others. 

Now, he realized it had been the beginning of all the dances that followed. 

Then came the kiss on Mount St. Helens, the kiss on the shores of the lake at Camp Half-Blood, when they were still too young to understand the depth of the bond they were building. Then came the wars, the prophecies, the months Hera kept them apart and almost stole from them the chance to live through all of this. Then came the goodbyes, the reunions, the nights they fell asleep in each other's arms after believing, for the hundredth time, that they could lose everything. Then came New Rome, college, the apartment that was far too small for two students, the arguments over bills, the rushed mornings, the shared breakfasts, the lazy Sundays, the exams, the internships, the visits to Sally, the summers in Montauk, the summers at camp. 

For a long time, Percy had believed his greatest victory would be surviving until he was sixteen. 

Later, he thought it would be enough simply to reach adulthood. 

Now, holding the woman he loved while the sea rocked them with the same gentleness it had used to cradle the shoreline since long before either of them had been born, he finally understood that surviving had never been the goal. 

The real gift was everything that came afterward. 

The ordinary days. The small joys he had never dared dream about when he was just a frightened boy trying to stop the end of the world twice. 

His heart felt too full to fit inside his chest. 

Percy took a deep breath, and the question slipped out before he could analyze it or decide whether this was the right moment. His forehead rested against hers as he murmured, 

"Will you marry me?" 

She pulled her head back just a few inches, looking at him as though she were studying a particularly fascinating architectural design. 

"What?" 

He leaned closer again until their foreheads nearly touched once more, but he kept his eyes open. 

He wanted to say it while looking into hers. 

"I'm going to ask you again." His voice was quiet, steady, carrying a gentleness that surprised even him. "I'm going to do it properly, Wise Girl. I'll buy a beautiful ring. I'll choose a special day. I'll get down on one knee in front of you, because that's exactly where I should be when I ask for the greatest honor of my life. I'll spend weeks trying to keep it a secret from you, and I'll probably fail because you always figure everything out before anyone else. And when you say yes..." He smiled, his throat tightening. "If you do me the honor of saying yes... I'm going to spin you around until you complain that you're getting dizzy." 

Annabeth laughed through the tears that were beginning to mingle with the saltwater on her face, but Percy didn't stop. 

The words were coming straight from his heart, beyond his control. 

"But I couldn't wait. I was sitting on the beach watching you play with Estelle, and something happened to me. I think, for the first time, I managed to look ahead without feeling afraid. At least... not the fear I've always carried. I spent so many years believing dying at sixteen was inevitable. Then I spent years after that trying to figure out how to live after surviving. And today, watching you out there..." He swallowed. "I could suddenly picture an entire future, and I realized I want it to happen as soon as possible." 

He gently brushed aside one of the damp braids that stubbornly clung to her cheek. 

"I imagined a little girl running across this beach while you pretended to lose a water fight to her the same way you pretended to lose to Estelle. I imagined us coming back to Montauk every summer, complaining about the heat, arguing over who forgot the sunscreen, listening to our children running across the sand. I imagined gray hair, wrinkles, birthdays, Christmases, Sundays spent doing absolutely nothing except being together." 

Emotion made his voice waver, but Percy never looked away from her for even a second. 

"When I look back, I see a completely nervous boy trying to dance with you at Westover. I see two teenagers kissing for the first time beside a volcano without having the slightest idea how big the story they were beginning would become. I see a goddess separating us for eight months, and somehow we still found our way back to each other. I see wars, monsters, goodbyes, fear, pain, uncertainty... but I also see every little happiness we earned afterward. I see you studying until the middle of the night because you want to build a better world... and a better future for us. I see you sleeping in one of my T-shirts. I see you dancing with me in the kitchen. I see you taking care of Estelle as though you were born to do it. And I realize every one of those memories points in the same direction." 

He cupped her face with one hand, keeping his other arm wrapped around her waist. 

"You." 

The waves continued rocking them gently, lifting and lowering their bodies as though the sea itself had become a silent witness. 

"I love you in a way that sometimes scares me, because it feels too big to fit inside one person. I love you so much that marriage feels small compared to what I feel. I love you so much that, if I had the choice, I'd spend every possible lifetime beside you, because one simply doesn't seem like enough. But this is the life we've been given. This is the chance the world gave us after everything we've survived. So even knowing no ceremony could ever measure the size of what I feel, I want to spend this entire life being your husband." 

He smiled with the shy smile that Annabeth only ever saw when Percy let his heart speak before his head. 

"So I'm asking you now, even though I know I'm going to ask again on one knee, with a ring and everything you deserve... Would you marry me?" 

She choked softly on her own tears. 

It was adorable. 

"You know what I hate most about all of this?" she asked, her voice trembling as she failed to hold back a smile. "I've spent years imagining what it would be like when you finally asked me to marry you. In every version I imagined, I had the perfect speech. Some brilliant answer that would make you laugh before I said yes. And now you've ruined all of my plans because you decided to do this while we're floating in the middle of the ocean after giving me the most beautiful speech anyone has ever said." 

Percy let out an emotional laugh. 

"I'm sorry, love." 

"You're not forgiven." 

She lifted one hand to caress his face, looking at him with a tenderness so deep it seemed impossible for there to be even the smallest doubt between them. 

"Because now, when you ask me again with a beautiful ring while you're down on one knee, I'm going to have to pretend to be surprised, even though the best marriage proposal will always be this one. It will always be you forgetting every plan you ever made because you simply looked at me and decided you didn't want to wait another second to tell me how you felt." 

She leaned even closer until their foreheads were touching once again. 

"And I sincerely hope you keep your promise to spin me around, because I fully intend to give you exactly the same answer I'll give you that day." 

Percy smiled. 

"What answer?" 

Annabeth laughed through her tears. 

"Yes, Seaweed Brain." 

She kissed him before he could reply. 

It was a slow kiss, utterly unhurried, interrupted only by the gentle rocking of the waves that insisted on drawing them even closer together. 

The sea continued to cradle them in its endless rhythm, as though it were dancing with them. 

One of the many dances they would share throughout their lives.