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perceabeth · 2 years

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“that moment where your character just… looks. just looks at their love interest for more than five seconds and doesn’t understand why or how this earth can exist and the sun and moon exist and the sky can be an eternal source of happiness and yet this person right here can bring so much more warmth and comfort to them with just a single glance” you wld do this SOOOOOO well (as you wld all of them but this one has me w my head in my hands)

cicada my beloved happy happy bday i know this isn't exactly what u said but i tried hope it helps <3333

Annabeth really does not want to be having this conversation right now.

“I’m just saying,” If Silena has registered her disinterest, she doesn’t let it affect her flow. “It wouldn’t hurt. Besides, he owes you a date anyway, so you might as well, right?”

“It wasn’t a date.” Annabeth complains and Clarisse barks out a hearty laugh, leaning back against the stone steps in the amphitheatre and taking a sip of water. Annabeth scowls. “What? It wasn’t! We were supposed to catch a movie but he’s, like, totally into this other girl.”

“Is she pretty?”

“Kind of.” Annabeth thinks about it. “She’s got freckles. I suppose that’s pretty.”

“So you’re jealous.” Silena concludes. “Which means you totally like Percy, and therefore, coming back to my original point– you should ask him to the fireworks.”

Annabeth is not impressed, but it’s harder to wear it on her face when she’s spending all this effort fighting the outrageous heat that’s creeping up to her cheeks. “I don’t like Percy. He’s like– he’s like this thorn in my side.”

“He’s an idiot.” Clarisse agrees. Then she tilts her head to the side and considers it. “But I’d say you were more a pain in his ass than the other way around.”

“No way.” Silena shakes her head, interrupting before Annabeth could voice her outrage. “Annabeth’s right. He’s worse.”

“Annabeth is bossy.” Clarisse challenges.

“Percy is hyper-argumentative.” Silena counters.

“Annabeth is a hothead.”

“So is Percy.”

“Annabeth–”

“Hey!” Annabeth cuts in. “Annabeth can hear you, you know? And she doesn’t like what she’s hearing.”

“Fine. Then scram.” Clarisse kicks her ankle lightly with hers. “This practice session was a spectacular waste of time. We got no sparring done and if a war does come to us, I’m pretty sure Silena’s going to be the first to die.”

“Excuse me.” Silena turns on Clarisse then, holding up her perfectly manicured hands. “I happen to be gifted with these nails. You don’t know the damage I can do, La Rue.”

“Your acrylics versus the Lord of Time. Interesting.” Clarisse pretends to think about it. “Let’s hope Annabeth kills the Prophecy Kid this summer so none of us have to deal with that coming to fruition.”

“Whatever. Give me two weeks and I’ll kick your ass with a spear.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Even as Annabeth sits between her friends, she feels herself drifting away– as if the scene in front of her is already becoming a memory; as if this is one of those moments she’ll revisit every so often as she moves forward– like she stood on the precipice of the End of something, even if she doesn’t know what yet.

“Annabeth.” A man’s voice draws her out of her thoughts. All three girls turn around to see Quintus standing over them, Percy only a few steps behind him. He peers around their sword fighting teacher to meet Annabeth’s eye, his lips quirking upwards slightly, and her heart somersaults. “I was hoping you and Percy could give me a hand– clean out the armoury for me?”

“It’s my time off.” Annabeth whines. Why is Percy always dragging her into sharing his chores with him?

“Come on, Wise Girl.” Percy matches her tone. “Two pairs of hands are better than one, right?”

“I hate you.” Annabeth grumbles, taking Quintus’ hand and letting him pull her off the ground. Silena wriggles her eyebrows at her and Clarisse smirks, so when their teacher’s back is turned to her, Annabeth flips them off. It does little to subdue them, though, because their cackles echo through the amphitheatre long after she’s left.

“What is this?” Percy pulls out a wicked blade attached to the end of a long, heavy stick. “Oh my gods, is this a javelin? I didn’t even realise we had them here.”

“Yeah,” Annabeth snorts. “As if you could fight with one of those.”

“You calling me weak?”

“I’m just saying that your arms are kind of skinny.”

“You’re one to talk.” Percy cries. There’s something so endearing about the indignation on his face that Annabeth bursts out laughing. Sometimes it’s like Percy does it deliberately– knows exactly how to behave to make uncontrollable giggles bubble in her tummy. If he notices, he doesn’t pay mind to it, instead focusing on clearing the nearest table and resting his elbow on the surface. He looks up at her, unspoken challenge framing his features in a special kind of light. “I’m way stronger than you– so only come here if you’re willing to lose.”

“As if.” Annabeth rolls her eyes, taking his hand and grinding her bony elbow painfully into the wood. Percy’s eyes leave hers, drifting to their hands, his fingers curled tightly around hers, and she doesn’t miss the way his breathing stutters slightly. An unattractive smugness fights its way to her lips. Maybe Silena was right– she could totally ask him to the fireworks– but right now, she has other priorities. She leans forward. “You’re going to get beaten by a girl, Seaweed Brain.”

“Oh yeah?” Percy, as always, matches her exact energy, narrowing his eyes and lowering his voice. “Joke’s on you, I’m used to it.”

Annabeth grins. “Good.”

“Okay, on three.” Percy says. “One, two–”

The back of his hand crashes into the table. For a moment, he looks confused, blinking at their still entwined hands resting on the wooden surface. Slowly, his grip tightens around her palm, his smooth features twisting into a scowl.

“You cheated.” He says, dangerously quiet. Then he pushes back against her hand until he can pin it down. Annabeth struggles to pull away, but it’s like fighting against iron.

“Let go.” She laughs, but Percy doesn’t budge. The same evil part of her that cheated crows. “Percy, stop.”

“No. You cheated. You have to pay.” Percy’s face breaks into a grin, his shining eyes bright in the dimly lit glorified cupboard they’re stuck in. In a flash, he’s on her side of the table, his fingers digging into her sides, and a squeal escapes her.

“Percy!” Annabeth feels her knees giving way as she drops to the floor, taking her friend down with her. When he finally does stop tickling her, she’s out of breath, her cheeks sore from the laughter. Next to her, Percy leans his head against the leg of the table, his face flushed and his chest heaving, a manic smile on his lips.

“You’re such an asshole, Annabeth.” He doesn’t sound offended by it.

Instead of replying, Annabeth is content to watch him catch his breath, leftover laughter still breaking out from him in throaty splits. Miraculously, his hair is even messier now than it was this morning, but Annabeth thinks it suits him. His lips are parted, and for a second, she wonders what it might be like to be able to lean over and kiss him. She’s never kissed a boy before– but Silena and Clarisse have, and they both seem to enjoy it a ton. For a while in the winter, she’d considered kissing one of the boys at Camp, but they’re all gross. She wonders if she’d like kissing Percy.

It’s like that a lot. Ever since the winter, when he’d admitted that he’d only gone on a quest to save her– Annabeth had found it difficult to even think about him without her stomach exploding into a kaleidoscope of butterflies. Now that he’s back at Camp, back with her– she’s starting to realise just how much more she likes him than anybody else around here. This isn’t how she felt about Luke, not how she felt about any of the boys she’d had a crush on before. With Percy, she’s come to realise, everything is different.

How is it possible, Annabeth finds herself wondering, that she exists in this world at the same time that he does? He’d come into her life, a whirlwind of grief and anger and adventure and something she doesn’t want to dwell on– and he’d healed her, inside and out. Not by trying; not by finding all her broken pieces– but simply by existing. Percy lives, and Annabeth is better for it. He lives, and the sun above them dims, the moon loses her brilliance, the colours in the world dull. Does he know that?

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Percy draws her out of her thoughts, touching his cheek consciously. “Have I got something on my face?”

“Yeah.” Annabeth lies hollowly, reaching over and brushing her thumb over his jaw. Is that a stubble? When’d he get so mature? She swallows thickly. “You’re good.”

“Thanks.” Percy mumbles, holding her gaze. It’s a loaded, slow moment, but she draws away first. She always does– in all honesty, Annabeth is a coward. He must sense it, because he brushes his fingers over her wrist and says, “It’s a shame, you know.”

“What?”

A wicked smile grows on his lips. “I never got to beat your ass.”

“You’re deluded, Percy.” Annabeth pokes his shoulder. “You couldn’t beat me if my arm was broken.”

“Wanna bet?” Percy demands. “Rematch. I win, you tell everyone at Camp how strong and impressive I am. You win, and… I’ll shut up about my strong, impressive arms for an entire summer.”

Annabeth can’t fight the smile only he ever seems to bring out in her. He’d chosen his words carefully, just as he always did. A new dawn falls upon them, an idea of this summer being one of many more. A summer in the future after Annabeth’s victory when Percy could go back to bragging about his bicep curl personal bests. What could be better? “You’re so on.”

#cicada #d4dpercabeth #iconic url btw #still iconic #percabeth fanfiction #i kinda forgot my writing tag im ngl <3 #q&a

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