Archive of Our Own ^beta

Annabeth Chase smoothed her skirt for what had to be the tenth time that morning, tugging at the fabric as if doing so would somehow make it longer. Piper had sworn rolling it up would keep her from looking like, in her words, "a nun who got lost." And now here she was, standing in the front courtyard of Goode High, wondering if she looked like a complete idiot.

Her crisp white shirt—part of the uniform from her old boarding school—was buttoned down just enough to suggest she wasn't there to enforce rules, though the open collar still felt strange. Her tie was tucked haphazardly into her blazer pocket, her skirt hit mid-thigh, and her braids, carefully twisted the night before, swung against her shoulders.

It wasn't that she cared about looking perfect. She cared about control, and right now she had none. The school in front of her was chaos.

Students poured in through the doors, shouting greetings across the courtyard, their voices echoing off the brick walls. Boys shoved each other in mock-wrestling matches, girls snapped selfies with shrieks of laughter, and in one corner a couple was kissing with a level of passion Annabeth was almost certain violated public decency laws.

She hugged her books closer to her chest. The crowd pressed too close, too loud, and it was nothing like the hushed halls she had left behind at her all-girls school, where even whispered conversations felt like breaking the rules.

She was already questioning every choice she'd made that morning. Piper had promised it would be fine. Percy had promised too. But Percy wasn't here yet, and Annabeth was starting to feel like a single drop of water in an ocean current that wanted to swallow her whole.

Then she heard it—his voice, clear and familiar, like a life raft thrown her way.

"Wise Girl!"

Her head snapped toward the sound, and relief crashed into her chest so hard she almost laughed. Percy Jackson was cutting through the crowd like it didn't exist, tall and broad-shouldered, his blonde curls messy as always. His blue eyes locked on hers, and the grin spreading across his face was enough to make the rest of the hallway fade away.

"Percy," she breathed, the word half a sigh, half a prayer.

In two long strides he was there, slipping his arm easily around her shoulders as though it belonged there. Compared to her, he was a giant, towering over her by a full head, and she fit neatly under his arm. The moment he touched her, the panic in her chest loosened its grip.

"Gods, you actually wore it," he said, looking her up and down with exaggerated approval. His grin turned wicked. "Tell Piper I owe her my eternal thanks, because if it means you'll wear that skirt again, I'll literally send her flowers every week."

Annabeth's face heated instantly. She shoved him lightly in the ribs with her elbow, glaring up at him. "Shut up."

"Ow." He clutched his side dramatically, though his grin didn't falter. "Abuse before first period? Brutal."

Despite herself, Annabeth smiled. Percy had that effect on her—breaking tension with a joke, pulling her out of her head when she wanted to crawl inside it.

"I feel ridiculous," she muttered, tugging at the hem of her skirt again.

"You look perfect," he said, with a certainty that made her glance away. "Seriously, don't even start. You could wear a garbage bag and you'd still be—"

"Don't finish that sentence," Annabeth warned, her cheeks burning.

He leaned down so his mouth was right next to her ear. "—the prettiest girl in this entire school," he finished anyway, whispering like it was a secret just for her.

Annabeth rolled her eyes, but the truth was, her heart stuttered traitorously in her chest. She ducked her head so he wouldn't see her smile.

Around them, the hallway noise only grew. Someone slammed a locker. A group of boys shouted over a basketball. Somewhere down the corridor, an argument escalated into shoving, and within seconds there was a chant of "Fight! Fight! Fight!" rising through the crowd.

Annabeth froze, instinctively tensing. Her old school had debates in the student lounge, not fistfights outside chemistry class.

Percy noticed instantly. His arm tightened around her shoulders, pulling her a little closer to his side, his palm warm against her arm. "Ignore it," he said casually. "That's Goode for you. They'll get detention and be friends again by lunch."

Annabeth gave him a skeptical look. "You're telling me this is normal?"

He shrugged, that infuriating grin still tugging at his mouth. "Pretty much. Welcome to Goode High."

She wanted to argue, to say that this was madness, that no normal school functioned like a zoo—but with Percy guiding her, his body shielding hers from the jostling crowd, the words caught in her throat. Maybe she didn't need to understand it. Not yet.

They made their way down the hall, Percy navigating easily through the crush of students, Annabeth tucked against him like she belonged there. He bent his head as he walked, talking to her over the din, pointing out classrooms and muttering commentary on different teachers with a running sarcasm that had her fighting not to laugh.

"...and that's Coach Harris," he said, nodding toward a man with a whistle around his neck. "Claims he played college ball, but I'm ninety percent sure he just referees little league."

Annabeth bit back a smile. "You're terrible."

"You love it," Percy shot back instantly.

Her cheeks warmed, because of course she did.

They stopped in front of a classroom door. Percy shifted so he was standing directly in front of her, blocking her view of the chaos still happening in the hallway. For a moment, it felt like they were the only two people there.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

Annabeth hesitated, then nodded. "I think so."

Percy studied her like he didn't entirely believe her. Then, without warning, he dipped his head and pressed a kiss to her temple.

Annabeth froze. In the middle of the hall. With people everywhere.

She jerked back, eyes wide. "Percy!"

"What?" He looked completely unbothered, grinning down at her like he hadn't just made her want the ground to swallow her whole. "You're my girlfriend. I'm allowed."

Her face flamed, and she opened her mouth to argue, but the words never came. Because, as much as it embarrassed her, she couldn't deny the way it made her feel—safe, seen, claimed in the best possible way.

"Idiot," she muttered instead, though there was no bite to it.

His grin softened into something gentler, warmer. "Your idiot."

She shook her head, but her lips curved despite her best efforts.

"Come on," Percy said, nudging the door open with his shoulder. "Let's get you to class before this place scares you off for good."

Annabeth let him guide her inside, still holding her books tight to her chest. The room wasn't much quieter than the hallway, and even with Percy beside her the whole place felt more like a zoo than a school.

It would be a long year.

———

Annabeth had thought the hallways were loud. She had been wrong.

The cafeteria was something else entirely.

The moment she and Percy pushed through the double doors, the noise slammed into her like a physical force. Voices layered over each other in a chaotic din—shouts, laughter, jeers. Someone banged a plastic tray against the table in rhythm while others clapped along. Two kids were balancing milk cartons on their heads. And near the far wall, an entire group of boys in matching green-and-gold jackets was yelling so loudly that Annabeth was almost certain the building would cave in.

She stopped in the doorway, frozen, her tray pressed tightly against her chest. This wasn't lunch. This was bedlam.

"Hey," Percy's voice came warm and steady behind her, grounding. He slipped a hand to the small of her back, steering her forward like he was coaxing her across a high ledge. "Don't worry. I'll show you the ropes."

The heat of his palm lingered against her spine as he guided her toward the lunch line. Annabeth moved stiffly, eyes darting around, cataloging everything like she was trying to map enemy territory.

"This," Percy said, gesturing toward the metal trays under the heat lamps, "you don't touch. Trust me, it's not real chicken."

Annabeth raised a brow. "Then what is it?"

"No one knows. Legend says it's the same pan they've been using since the seventies." He grinned at her horrified look. "I'm serious. Avoid."

He grabbed two cartons of chocolate milk, dropped one onto her tray without asking, and continued guiding her along. He pointed out what was safe—fries, pizza on Tuesdays, anything wrapped in plastic because at least then you could see what you were getting. He explained all this like it was sacred knowledge, whispering conspiratorially in her ear every time someone might overhear, and against her will Annabeth felt a smile tug at her lips.

By the time they reached the end of the line, her tray was stacked with fries, an apple, and the milk Percy had claimed for her. Percy's own tray had twice the fries and a slice of pizza that looked more like cardboard than food.

She followed as he wove through the maze of tables. A few kids called out his name, waving for him to join, but Percy shook his head each time, tightening his hand against her back. He didn't even hesitate. He just steered them to a corner table against the wall, away from the main chaos, and set his tray down.

Annabeth sat stiffly across from him, her eyes still darting around. The noise was oppressive. She had never eaten in a place like this. At her old school, lunch had been structured, quiet, with teachers walking the aisles. Meals began with bowed heads, a brief prayer, then calm conversation over soup and sandwiches.

Here, no one bowed their heads. No one paused. The second the trays hit the table, kids were digging in, shouting with their mouths full.

Annabeth froze, her hands hovering over her tray. She wasn't sure she could bring herself to pick up her fork.

Percy noticed instantly. "What's wrong?"

"They're not...praying," she said, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

Percy blinked, then gave her a crooked smile. "Yeah. This place barely manages to say the Pledge of Allegiance. You think they're gonna stop and pray before pizza?"

Annabeth's cheeks heated. "I didn't mean—"

"Hey, it's okay," he interrupted, sliding into the seat next to her instead of across. He slung his arm casually around her waist, pulling her in against his side. "You're just used to things being...different."

She exhaled slowly. His warmth was steady, his presence enough to ground her even when everything else felt too big, too loud.

Annabeth tried to focus on her food, but her gaze snagged on the table across the room—the one with the boys in matching jackets. They were loudest of all, hollering over each other, pounding the table, chanting random words like they were in some kind of ritual.

She leaned closer to Percy. "What is that?"

Percy followed her gaze, then laughed. "Football team."

Annabeth frowned. "They look like a cult."

"Basically the same thing." Percy smirked. "Except cults probably eat quieter."

A laugh bubbled out of her before she could stop it. Percy grinned like he'd just won a prize.

He nudged his tray toward her. "Here. Fries."

"I have fries."

"Yeah, but mine are better."

Before she could argue, he plucked one up and held it to her lips, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. Annabeth blinked at him, incredulous. "Percy—"

"C'mon, Wise Girl. One fry. For me."

Annabeth rolled her eyes, but when she opened her mouth, he popped the fry in triumph. His grin widened.

"See? Better, right?"

She chewed slowly, fighting the smile threatening her face. "They taste the same."

"Lies," Percy said, already reaching for another fry. "These are clearly superior."

Annabeth shook her head, but when he offered again, she let him feed her. The smug look on his face almost made it worth the embarrassment.

Their moment was interrupted by a shadow falling across the table. Annabeth looked up to see a tall boy smirking down at her, hands shoved into his hoodie pocket.

"Hey, new girl," he drawled. "You're wasted sitting with Jackson. Why don't you come sit with us?"

Annabeth stiffened. She opened her mouth, ready to deliver a cutting response that probably started with the word "fuck" and ended with "off", but Percy beat her to it.

He leaned back in his chair, arm still firm around her waist, and fixed the boy with a look that was all lazy confidence. "She's good."

The boy raised an eyebrow. "You sure? She doesn't look good."

Percy's grin didn't falter, but his voice sharpened just slightly. "She's with me. Move along."

The boy's smirk wavered. After a moment, he scoffed and slouched off toward another table.

Annabeth stared at Percy. "You didn't have to—"

"Yeah, I did." He squeezed her side gently, his gaze flicking down to hers. "No one gets to bug you. Not while I'm around."

Her chest tightened, something warm unfurling under her ribs. She tried to cover it with a roll of her eyes. "You're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously charming," he corrected, immediately offering her another fry.

She huffed a laugh, unable to fight the smile this time.

They ate like that—Percy stealing fries off her tray, insisting his were superior, doing terrible impressions of the football team's chanting. He puffed out his chest, banged his fist against the table, and mimicked their shouts until Annabeth was doubled over with laughter, her braids swinging forward to hide her face.

At one point, Percy leaned back, watching her with a soft, triumphant smile. She noticed only when he nudged her shoulder.

"What?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

"Nothing." He popped another fry into his mouth. "Just thinking how tiny you look at this table. Like, I could fit you in my backpack if I wanted to."

Annabeth elbowed him hard in the ribs, but she was smiling.

The cafeteria was still loud, still chaotic, still everything she wasn't used to. But with Percy pressed warm against her side, feeding her fries and cracking jokes, it didn't feel quite so overwhelming anymore.

Maybe, she thought, just maybe, she could get used to this.

———

Annabeth sat on the edge of Percy's bed with her hands twisted in her lap, staring at the neatly folded pile of clothes in her duffel bag. The problem wasn't that she hadn't packed. It was that everything she had packed was...uniform. Literally.

Skirts, pressed blouses, cardigans, knee socks. Everything screamed boarding school, and none of it matched the tornado of casual, thrown-together outfits she'd seen at Goode over the past few days. The girls wore ripped jeans and sneakers scribbled with marker. The boys wore hoodies big enough to be tents. Half the student body looked like they had just rolled out of bed, and somehow that was acceptable.

Annabeth had no clue what to do with herself.

She had her debit card, sure, but the idea of going out and shopping while everyone else already looked effortlessly relaxed made her stomach twist. She felt like she was on the wrong page of the rulebook.

Her frustration must have been written all over her face, because Percy emerged from his closet with an expression that could only be described as mischievous.

"What if," he said slowly, dragging out the words like he was unveiling a master plan, "you borrow some of my clothes?"

Annabeth's head snapped up. "Your clothes?"

"Yeah. Easy fix." He tossed a hoodie onto the bed beside her. It was navy blue, soft from wear, with faded lettering across the front. "This one's a classic." He dug into the pile again, producing a pair of loose skater jeans that looked about three sizes too big for her. "These'll look sick on you." Finally, with a flourish, he pulled out a knit beanie and plopped it onto her lap. "And the crown jewel."

Annabeth stared at the pile, then at Percy. "You cannot be serious."

"I am so serious," he said, trying and failing to keep a straight face. "Trust me, Wise Girl. It's a look."

Against her better judgment, Annabeth stood. The hoodie smelled faintly like laundry detergent and something that was distinctly Percy—salt and wind, like the ocean clung to him even this far inland. She pulled it on, the hem hanging halfway down her thighs. The jeans required rolling the waistband twice and cuffing the ankles before they even remotely fit, and the beanie slid low over her forehead, threatening to cover her eyes.

When she turned back to Percy, he was frozen in place. His tray of fries from earlier had been forgotten on his desk. His mouth was parted slightly, eyes wide, as if she'd just walked in wearing something far more scandalous than an oversized hoodie.

"Percy?" Annabeth asked, suddenly self-conscious.

He blinked once, twice. Then, in a voice gone strangely rough, he said, "Holy shit."

Her cheeks burned. "It's just your clothes."

"No." He crossed the room in two strides, hands braced against the door on either side of her head, effectively caging her in. His grin was wolfish, his blue eyes shining like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "It's my clothes. On you."

Annabeth raised an unimpressed brow. "And that's different how?"

"Annabeth Chase," Percy said solemnly, leaning in until his curls brushed her forehead, "you have no idea how dangerous this is for me."

She opened her mouth to retort, but Percy cut her off by kissing her—hard, fast, like he couldn't hold himself back another second. Annabeth gasped against his lips, her hands instinctively fisting in the front of the hoodie. He kissed her again, slower this time, pressing her back against the door until her knees went weak.

When he finally pulled away, both of them breathless, he grinned, his lips brushing hers as he spoke. "You're never taking this off."

Annabeth rolled her eyes, though her heart was racing. "It's a hoodie, Seaweed Brain."

"It's my hoodie," he corrected, already kissing the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, like he couldn't stop himself. "And it looks better on you than it ever did on me. That's basically a crime."

She shoved lightly at his chest, though the gesture was more playful than serious. "You're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously in love with you," he shot back without missing a beat. He slipped an arm around her waist and, with an ease that startled her, lifted her clean off the floor.

"Percy!" she squeaked, grabbing at his shoulders as he carried her the three steps to his bed.

He set her down with exaggerated care, still grinning like he'd won some kind of prize. "See? Easier this way. You're tiny, Wise Girl. You weigh, like, two textbooks."

Annabeth smacked his arm, but her lips betrayed her with a smile. "You're impossible."

"Impossible to resist," he said, plopping down beside her, one arm already slung lazily around her shoulders. He tugged at the sleeve of the hoodie, which dangled far past her hand. "Gods, look at this. It's like you're swimming in it."

Annabeth tried to scowl, but the warmth of his arm and the absolute adoration in his eyes made it difficult. "Don't get used to this. I can have Piper send me clothes from my dorm."

Percy groaned dramatically, flopping backward across the mattress like she'd just stabbed him. "Why would you ruin this for me?"

"Because I need to wear things that actually fit?"

He sat up, expression suddenly serious, though the twinkle in his eyes gave him away. "No. Nope. Not allowed. You're wearing my stuff forever now. That's the rule."

Annabeth arched a brow. "You're making up rules?"

"Yeah. Rule number one: Annabeth Chase looks dangerously adorable in my clothes. Rule number two: she's never giving them back."

Annabeth shook her head, but her smile was soft. "You're insufferable."

"Your insufferable," he corrected again, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before leaning back, smug and content.

Annabeth sighed, but she didn't move away. Secretly, she liked the way the hoodie swallowed her whole, liked how Percy's scent clung to the fabric, grounding her in this unfamiliar world. Maybe she'd let him win this one—just for a little while.

Percy leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was confessing a secret. "You know this isn't the last time, right? You in my clothes? It's happening again. And again. And again."

Annabeth shoved him lightly in the shoulder, but she was laughing now, and Percy, smug as ever, took that as proof he'd already won, he quickly moved his kisses to her throat.

"Is this really what gets you going?" She asked, laughing. He only looked up for a second, saying in between light kisses, "With you?" Kiss "It really—" kiss "—doesn't take much for me."

In other words, technically the clothes did end up coming off eventually.

The hoodie stayed on though.

———

Annabeth Chase had survived monster boarding school cafeterias, fights in the hallways of Goode, and Percy's campaign to turn her into a human hanger for his hoodies. But nothing had prepared her for this.

The party was exactly what she had always imagined high school parents warned their children about—then multiplied by ten.

Music pounded through the walls of the house so hard it felt like the floorboards were vibrating under her boots. The air was thick with sweat, perfume, and the unmistakable tang of cheap beer. Every surface seemed sticky. Red solo cups littered the floor like confetti, half of them knocked over and leaking into the carpet. Teenagers danced on tables and countertops, hollering along to the music.

Annabeth stared, wide-eyed, her hand white-knuckled in Percy's. "This is...a crime scene."

Percy leaned close so she could hear him over the bass. His curls brushed her cheek, his blue eyes gleaming with amusement. "Relax, Wise Girl. It's just a party."

"'Just a party?'" Annabeth hissed, stepping gingerly to avoid a puddle of something suspicious on the hardwood. "This looks like a war zone."

Percy laughed, his grip tightening protectively on her hand. "That's part of the charm."

"There's no charm here." Annabeth wrinkled her nose as someone stumbled past with a sloshing cup, narrowly avoiding dumping it all over her. "This is disgusting."

Percy's grin softened. "That's why I'm here. To make sure you survive it."

He never let go of her hand, weaving them through the crowd with an ease that baffled Annabeth. Everyone seemed to know him, clapping him on the back, shouting his name, but Percy just nodded or waved and kept moving until they found a corner that wasn't completely overrun.

Annabeth exhaled, still tense, clutching her cup of water (Percy had gotten it for her, refusing to let her drink near anyone that wasn't him). She felt out of place in a way that went deeper than clothes or noise.

Speaking of clothes...

Percy's gaze flicked over her outfit, and his jaw clenched. Piper had insisted Annabeth borrow something for the party—something "fitting for the occasion." Which was apparently code for shorter, tighter, and more revealing than anything Annabeth would've picked on her own.

The fitted black top hugged her waist, dipping low in the neckline, paired with a skirt that was several inches shorter than her boarding school uniform ever had been. Annabeth had only agreed because Piper had sworn she looked "drop-dead gorgeous."

Judging by the look Percy was giving her, Piper hadn't been wrong.

"Remind me to kill Piper," Percy muttered, eyes narrowing at a group of guys across the room whose stares lingered too long.

Annabeth followed his gaze, then elbowed him in the ribs. "Don't."

"They're staring," Percy said flatly, his jaw tight.

"They're staring at everyone," Annabeth countered, though her cheeks warmed.

"Not like that." He tugged her closer, his arm slipping around her waist like it belonged there. "Seriously, Wise Girl, you're trying to kill me here."

Annabeth gave him a side-eye glare. "I didn't pick this outfit. Blame Piper."

"Oh, I will." Percy's grin returned, though it was sharper this time, protective. "And for the record? You're the prettiest one here. Not even close."

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "You're so cheesy."

"Yeah, but it's true." He leaned down, brushing his lips against her cheek in a quick kiss before she could dodge him.

Her blush deepened, and she was suddenly very grateful for the dim lighting.

Percy didn't give her time to stew. He tugged her toward a clearer spot near the living room, where people were dancing in various states of coordination. Annabeth planted her heels. "Absolutely not."

"Come on," he said, grinning like a boy who'd just dared her to break the rules. "It's fun."

"This looks like chaos," she protested.

"That's the point." Percy spun her suddenly, catching her with both hands before she could stumble. "See? Easy."

Annabeth blinked up at him, breath caught in her throat.

Percy wiggled his eyebrows, then did a deliberately ridiculous dance move—something that looked half like a robot, half like he was swatting bees. "Join me, Wise Girl."

Annabeth pressed her lips together, trying hard not to laugh. "You look ridiculous."

"Ridiculously awesome," Percy corrected, then twirled her again, this time leaning down to press another kiss to her cheek mid-spin.

She swatted at his chest, flustered, but she was laughing now, the sound surprising even herself. "You're insufferable."

"Your insufferable," he shot back, smug, pulling her in closer so they were pressed together as they swayed off-beat with the music.

Annabeth shook her head, but some of the tightness in her chest eased. The noise was still deafening, the air still sticky, but with Percy's hand steady at her waist, his grin lighting up the dim room, it wasn't quite as awful as it had been when she walked in.

He leaned down until his mouth brushed her ear, his voice soft and certain even over the thrum of the music. "You know, I thank the gods every day you're not into this."

Annabeth tilted her head up, brow furrowed. "Into what?"

"Parties. Random guys. All of this." His grip on her tightened, protective but gentle. "Because if you were...dressed like that daily?" His gaze flicked pointedly down at her outfit before meeting her eyes again. "I don't know if I could handle it."

Annabeth's heart skipped. For a moment, she let herself lean into him, soaking in the honesty in his eyes, the way he looked at her like she was the only person in the crowded room.

Then, because she was Annabeth, she smirked. "So you're saying you're jealous?"

Percy groaned. "I'm saying I'm in trouble."

She laughed, resting her forehead briefly against his chest, letting him hold her while the music raged on around them.

The party was still loud, still overwhelming, still everything she hated. But with Percy by her side, spinning her around, kissing her cheek, and glaring at anyone who looked too long, she thought maybe—just maybe—it wasn't completely unbearable.

———

Annabeth had been at Goode long enough to get used to some of the chaos—the shouting in the halls, the couples glued to lockers, the constant noise. What she hadn't quite gotten used to was the attention.

Being new meant eyes followed her. Sometimes it was just curiosity. Other times it lingered too long. She wasn't naïve; she knew how she looked. Piper had told her more than once that her braids framed her face like a crown, that her brown eyes could cut glass when she wanted them to. But Annabeth had never cared about being noticed. She cared about being respected.

Which was why the boy leaning against the lockers in front of her was quickly testing her patience.

"So, new girl," he drawled, smirking as his gaze swept from her head to her boots, "you got a name? Or do I just call you gorgeous?"

Annabeth's grip tightened on the books in her arms. "Annabeth," she said flatly, stepping to the side to pass.

The boy moved with her, blocking her path again. "Annabeth," he repeated, drawing out the syllables. "Pretty name for a pretty girl. You free after school?"

Her jaw tightened. "No."

He chuckled, clearly not getting the message. "C'mon, don't be like that. I could show you around. Get you out of this madhouse. You'll love it."

Annabeth's patience frayed. She opened her mouth, ready to cut him down with the kind of precision that left people bleeding without realizing it—but before she could, a familiar arm slid firmly around her shoulders, pulling her into a broad chest that smelled faintly like saltwater and laundry detergent.

Percy.

He was smiling, but it wasn't his usual easy grin. This one was sharper, his blue eyes narrowed as he looked at the boy still blocking Annabeth's path.

"She said no," Percy said, voice calm but edged. "Back off."

The boy's smirk faltered. "Hey, I was just talking—"

"Yeah," Percy cut in, his grip on Annabeth tightening just slightly. "And she was just not interested. You got ears, right?"

The boy's gaze flicked between them, taking in the way Percy had Annabeth tucked firmly against his side. After a beat, he raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, man. Chill." He backed away, disappearing into the stream of students shuffling down the hall.

Annabeth exhaled slowly, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. Percy didn't move his arm, just looked down at her with a lopsided smile that was a little too smug for her liking.

"Problem solved," he said.

She arched a brow at him. "You enjoyed that."

"Maybe a little." His grin widened. "You should've seen his face. Priceless."

Annabeth shook her head, though her lips twitched despite herself. "Seaweed Brain, you're ridiculous. You know I could've handled that on my own."

"I know," Percy said immediately, the smile softening. He pulled her closer, resting his chin briefly against the top of her head. "But you shouldn't have to."

Something in his voice made Annabeth glance up at him. His expression wasn't smug anymore. It was serious, almost protective to the point of stubbornness.

"It's not jealousy," he added, like he could already hear her teasing forming. "I just—no one gets to make you uncomfortable. Not while I'm around."

Annabeth blinked, her chest tightening unexpectedly. She'd been ready to laugh it off, to poke at him for being possessive. But the honesty in his eyes, the certainty in his voice, left her...soft.

"You're impossible," she murmured, though the bite had vanished from her tone.

"Your impossible," Percy corrected, grinning again, like he couldn't help it.

Annabeth rolled her eyes, but her lips betrayed her by curving upward. She stopped walking, tugging lightly on the sleeve of his hoodie until he turned to face her fully.

Before he could say anything else, she leaned up on her toes and kissed him.

It wasn't quick. It wasn't cautious. It was decisive, catching him completely off guard.

Percy froze for a heartbeat, then melted—absolutely melted—his arm tightening around her waist, pulling her flush against him. His free hand cupped the side of her face, gentle even as the kiss deepened. When they finally broke apart, his curls brushed her forehead as he leaned down, grinning like he'd just won the lottery.

"Well," he breathed, still dazed. "That was...unexpected."

Annabeth smirked, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. "Consider it a reward."

"For what?"

"For not being a complete idiot," she said, though her cheeks were warm.

Percy laughed, the sound bright and boyish, before pressing a quick kiss to her temple. "Best reward I've ever gotten."

Annabeth rolled her eyes again, but the hand that slid into his stayed there as they walked, fingers laced tight.

The hallway was still loud, still crowded, but with Percy's grin lingering against her cheek and his words echoing in her head—no one gets to make you uncomfortable—it didn't seem so overwhelming anymore.

"Hey, when can I get some more rewards?" He asked.

She only rolled her eyes.

———

By Friday, Percy had decided that the week had been a lot.

First there'd been the party—loud music, too many kegs, and way too many pairs of eyes glued to Annabeth in her Piper-approved outfit. Percy had spent half the night alternating between glaring at random guys and trying to spin Annabeth around in the kitchen until she laughed. Then there was the box Piper had mailed, filled with clothes that made Annabeth blush and Percy want to throw his hoodie over her before anyone else could look. And now? Now Annabeth had decided the perfect way to end the week was by actually doing homework.

Which was how they ended up at his kitchen table, textbooks spread out, pens scattered, Annabeth's neat notes already lined up like a battle plan.

Percy, however, had very different ideas about how the evening should go.

He slouched in his chair, one arm lazily draped across Annabeth's lap as she tried to balance her notebook. Every few minutes, he leaned over, resting his chin on her shoulder, curls tickling her cheek.

"Seaweed Brain," she muttered for the fifth time in ten minutes, not looking up from the geometry problem she was scribbling out. "Focus."

"I am focused," Percy said, voice muffled against her shoulder. He pressed a quick kiss to the side of her neck before grinning up at her. "Just not on triangles."

Annabeth huffed, biting the inside of her cheek to hide her smile. "If you fail math, don't blame me."

"I'll blame the Pythagorean Theorem," Percy said solemnly, tightening his arm around her waist. "It's trying to ruin our relationship."

Annabeth set her pencil down with deliberate patience, turning to give him the full force of her brown-eyed glare. "Percy Jackson, we are supposed to be studying."

He blinked innocently, blue eyes wide. "We are. You're studying me. I'm studying you. Educational, right?"

She groaned, burying her face briefly in her hands. When she looked up again, Percy was grinning, the picture of unrepentant mischief.

"Why do I even try with you?" she muttered.

"Because you love me," he shot back instantly, smug and soft all at once.

Annabeth tried to keep her expression stern, but the corners of her mouth betrayed her. Percy, of course, noticed. He always noticed. He leaned in again, kissing the edge of her smile until she swatted at his chest with the back of her hand.

"Seaweed Brain."

"Wise Girl."

For another fifteen minutes, Annabeth valiantly attempted to corral Percy's attention toward equations, but his definition of focus included tugging her into his lap, wrapping both arms around her middle, and swaying slightly like she was the only thing tethering him to the room. He whispered commentary on her handwriting ("way too perfect, it's scary"), nipped playfully at her shoulder until she elbowed him, and stole her highlighter just to doodle smiley faces in the margins of her notebook.

Finally, Annabeth dropped her pen with a dramatic sigh. "You're impossible."

Percy pressed his forehead against her temple. "And yet, here you are."

She turned to look at him, exasperation and affection warring in her gaze. "Fine. If you're going to keep distracting me, we're doing something else."

Percy perked up instantly, blue eyes lighting. "Like what? Mario Kart? Movie? I've got chips."

Annabeth tapped her fingers against the table, pretending to think. "Baking."

There was a beat of silence. Then Percy's chair screeched against the floor as he practically leapt to his feet, eyes wide. "Wait—you want to bake? Voluntarily?"

"Don't sound so shocked," Annabeth said dryly, standing and stretching. Her braids shifted around her shoulders like a crown, and Percy's heart did a weird little flip.

"I'm shocked because you actually want to do something that doesn't involve note cards," Percy said, already pulling her toward the kitchen counter. He grinned like a kid on Christmas morning. "This is the best day of my life."

Annabeth rolled her eyes, though her cheeks warmed at his enthusiasm. "Don't exaggerate."

"I'm not," Percy insisted, slipping behind her as she rummaged through cupboards. He wrapped his arms around her waist again, resting his chin on the top of her head this time. "Best day. Ever."

She laughed despite herself, reaching for a mixing bowl. "If you want cookies, you're going to have to let me move."

"Nope," Percy said cheerfully, refusing to budge. "Strategic support. You can't bake without it."

"Strategic support?" she echoed, tilting her head back to give him a skeptical look.

"Exactly." He kissed the tip of her nose before tightening his hold. "I'll hold you. You bake. Teamwork."

Somehow, she still managed to measure flour with his arms snug around her middle, still managed to crack eggs with his chin brushing her shoulder. Every time she scolded him for getting in the way, he kissed her cheek, grinning when her voice wavered.

By the time the dough was finished, Annabeth's cheeks hurt from smiling. Percy had flour smudged across one eyebrow, courtesy of her revenge after he deliberately dusted her braids with it. The oven beeped, and she slid the tray in while Percy hummed behind her, still attached like a barnacle.

When she finally turned in his arms, she found him looking at her like she'd hung the moon.

"What?" she asked softly, suddenly aware of how close they were.

"Nothing," Percy said, his grin a little lopsided. "Just thinking this is way better than studying."

Annabeth shook her head, but her chest felt warm. She leaned up, brushing her lips against his quickly, before pulling back with a smirk. "Don't get used to it."

"Too late," Percy murmured, kissing her again anyway.

And if the cookies ended up slightly burned because he refused to let go of her long enough to take them out of the oven—well, Annabeth supposed she could live with that.

———

If Percy had ever been in a fight he couldn't win, it wasn't against monsters, or math class, or even the school's wrestling captain. It was this moment: bringing Annabeth to meet his friends.

He could already hear the jokes. He could already see the way they'd smirk and elbow each other, because he hadn't exactly been subtle. Okay, fine—he hadn't been subtle at all. He'd spent the last month talking about Annabeth so much his friends had probably memorized her schedule before they'd even met her.

Now here she was, walking beside him in the fading afternoon light, her bohemian braids catching streaks of gold. She looked calm—collected, even—but Percy knew better. Her hand tightened around his as they approached the picnic tables, where a group of boys lounged with chips, sodas, and the volume level of a small rock concert.

"Relax," she murmured under her breath. "It's just your friends."

"That's the problem," Percy muttered.

"Seaweed Brain." Her smile was small but wicked. "Don't tell me the big bad Goode High junior is afraid of a few loudmouths."

He groaned. "You have no idea."

The moment they got within ten feet, Marcus, the linebacker built like a wall of concrete, spotted them. "Jackson! Look who finally crawled back from witness protection!"

"Not witness protection," Trevor called, already shoving bags aside to clear space. "Girlfriend protection."

Percy scowled. "What does that even—"

"Holy crap," another boy, Nate, cut in, squinting. "She's real."

The whole table turned toward Annabeth.

She could have folded. She could've hidden behind Percy's arm and let the attention crush her. Instead, she flashed a cool smile and said, "Glad to know I'm not a figment of his imagination."

Trevor's jaw dropped, then he burst out laughing. "Okay, I like her already."

Marcus leaned forward. "So you're Annabeth."

"The Annabeth," Nate added dramatically. "The one we've heard about for—what?—four weeks straight? Maybe five?"

Percy's ears burned hot. "Guys—"

But Annabeth tilted her head innocently. "Oh? And what exactly have you heard?"

That was all the encouragement they needed.

Marcus slapped the table. "He said you're smarter than all of us combined."

Trevor grinned. "He said you make him do homework, which—frankly—we didn't think was possible."

Nate leaned in with mock seriousness. "He said your eyes are brown, but like, the kind of brown that makes him forget how to speak English."

"What?" Percy yelped.

Annabeth's lips twitched. She didn't let him defend himself. Instead she gasped, hand over her chest. "That's so sweet." She turned to Percy, batting her lashes in exaggerated affection. "Seaweed Brain, you didn't tell me you were writing poetry about me to your friends."

The table erupted. Chips went flying. Someone nearly choked on their soda. Percy sank lower on the bench, dragging his hood over his face.

"You're all the worst," he muttered.

"Correction," Annabeth said primly, "they're the best. For supplying me with blackmail material."

"Traitor," Percy grumbled, but she was smirking too hard at him to care.

And the thing was—she wasn't just surviving. She was thriving.

When Marcus tried to brag about lifting double his body weight in the gym, Annabeth shot back, "Do you want a medal, or a chiropractor appointment?"

When Trevor launched into a long story about skipping class, Annabeth interrupted with, "And this is supposed to impress me... how?"

When Nate started arguing about which Marvel hero could bench the most, Annabeth deadpanned, "Should I call NASA? Because I think you're living on another planet."

Every punchline landed. The table didn't quiet her—it roared with laughter. Instead of trying to keep up, the guys leaned in, egged her on, practically begging her to roast them again.

Percy watched, stunned.

He'd been ready to shield her from the noise, the rowdiness, the attention. He hadn't expected Annabeth to command it, bending the chaos like she was conducting a symphony.

She leaned into the conversation, quick with her wit, sharper with her comebacks, her laugh ringing out brighter than he'd ever heard it at school. And the worst—no, the best—part? She looked like she was enjoying herself.

Trevor elbowed Percy after one particularly savage comment. "Dude. She's killing it."

"She's killing me," Percy muttered.

"Whipped," Nate coughed into his hand.

"Utterly whipped," Marcus echoed, grinning wide. "I've never seen you like this, Jackson. You've got that look in your eyes."

Percy narrowed his. "What look?"

"The look of a man who'd carry his girlfriend's backpack and not even complain," Trevor said solemnly.

"The look of a man who'd actually do homework just because she asked," Nate added.

"The look of a man," Marcus finished with mock tragedy, "who has fallen, and will never get up."

The table howled. Percy wanted to melt into the grass. Annabeth? She just patted his knee, eyes sparkling.

"Don't worry," she said sweetly, loud enough for everyone to hear. "I'll make sure to keep him fed and watered."

If Percy thought the laughter couldn't get any louder, he was wrong.

By the time the group finally dispersed—still laughing, still tossing Percy's dignity back and forth like a football—he and Annabeth were walking down the path side by side. The sky was streaked pink and gold, cooler air rolling in.

"You're evil," Percy said, shaking his head.

Annabeth shrugged, feigning innocence. "What? They loved me."

"That's the problem. You're supposed to be on my side."

She shot him a sidelong grin. "I am. But watching you turn red while they quoted your love poetry? That was priceless."

"Not love poetry," he groaned.

She stopped, tugging on his sleeve until he turned to face her. Her voice softened, even though the mischief never fully left her eyes. "For the record... I kind of like it here now."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Messy, loud, chaotic..." She smiled, brushing one braid back over her shoulder. "But it's not so bad. Not when you're here. And not when your friends are actually fun."

Percy swallowed, his chest tight. He leaned closer, whispering against her hair, "You're already the smartest, funniest, bravest person I know. But seeing you with them? I think I fell for you all over again."

Annabeth blinked, her wit momentarily silenced. Then she tilted her head, smirking just enough to cover the way her cheeks warmed. "You're still dramatic."

"Only for you," Percy murmured. He kissed her temple, not caring who saw, not caring if the entire football team walked by.

Annabeth rolled her eyes, but she didn't pull away. And for the first time, Goode High felt less like enemy territory and more like home.

———

Percy hated the mall.

There, he admitted it. It was too loud, too crowded, too filled with kiosks trying to spray him with perfume or straighten his hair, and the food court smelled like a dozen bad decisions mixed together. If he ever willingly stepped into this place, it was either because his mom needed a ride or, apparently, because his girlfriend had been living off Piper's idea of "school clothes" and finally decided she couldn't take it anymore.

Annabeth had insisted. Which meant Percy was here. Which meant his Saturday was now fluorescent lights, salespeople with smiles too wide, and racks and racks of clothing that all looked the same to him.

The only thing that made it bearable was the girl walking beside him, her braids bouncing as she scanned each storefront with a calculating gaze. She wore the hoodie he'd practically forced onto her earlier in the week, the sleeves so long they swallowed her hands, and she still looked like she belonged on the cover of a magazine.

"Okay," Annabeth said, tugging him toward the first store. "We're starting here."

Percy glanced up at the logo. Ralph Lauren. Just the name screamed money.

"Uh," he said. “Annie, are you sure? They're probably gonna charge you just for breathing inside."

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Don't be dramatic."

She pulled him in anyway.

Percy had grown up with discount racks and clearance sales, so stepping into a place where one sweater cost more than his entire closet was... jarring. Everything smelled faintly like cologne and wealth. A man in a suit actually greeted them at the door. Percy resisted the urge to salute.

Annabeth, meanwhile, was in her element. She sifted through racks like she owned the place, holding things up, frowning thoughtfully, moving on. Percy trailed behind her with the awkward energy of a golden retriever in a jewelry store.

"Try this," she said suddenly, shoving a hanger into his hands.

Percy blinked at the slim-cut button-down. "Wait—me?"

"Yes, you. Dressing rooms are that way."

"Annabeth—"

"Go," she ordered, giving him a push.

Ten minutes later, Percy was staring at himself in the mirror in a shirt that felt like it cost as much as a month's rent. He tugged at the sleeves, already sweating. This was ridiculous.

Then the door opened and Annabeth peeked in. "Well?"

Her eyes scanned him once. And for the first time that day, she lost her composure.

Percy smirked, leaning on the doorframe. "You like?"

Annabeth's lips parted, and she muttered, "Seaweed Brain," like it was a prayer and a curse at once.

"Thought so." He grinned, soaking it in, before quickly yanking the shirt off. "But no way. I'd spill pizza on this in two seconds."

Annabeth groaned.

From there, the roles flipped. Annabeth kept piling clothes into his arms—jackets, jeans, shirts—claiming she just wanted to see him try them. But every time he stepped out, she had that same look on her face: equal parts impressed and annoyed that he could make anything look good without even trying.

Not that Percy was any better.

Because when Annabeth finally turned her focus back on herself, Percy forgot how to breathe. She came out of the fitting room in a simple Calvin Klein dress—nothing flashy, just clean lines, soft gray fabric that hugged her figure perfectly. Her braids brushed her shoulders as she adjusted the hem, glancing up at him.

"Well?" she asked, almost challenging.

Percy's mouth went dry. "You're... yeah. Wow."

"Wow?" Her brows rose.

"That's all I've got right now," he admitted weakly. "Wow."

She smirked, satisfied.

It only got worse from there. A fitted blazer with dark slacks that made her look like she was about to take over a Fortune 500 company. A simple white v-neck sweater tucked into a pleated skirt that Percy had no business staring at as long as he did. By the time she twirled once in a sundress, Percy was ready to grab her hand and drag her straight out of the mall, because there was no way the rest of the world deserved to see her like this.

"Stop glaring at the mirror," Annabeth teased as she ducked back into the fitting room. "You're supposed to be helping me decide, not plotting murder."

"I'm helping," Percy grumbled. "I'm helping by making sure none of these outfits ever leave the house without me."

That earned him a laugh through the door.

Eventually, Annabeth settled on a mix: a couple of high-end staples from Ralph Lauren and Calvin Klein, plus some more casual stuff from places like Levi's and Zara. Percy ended up as her pack mule, staggering under half a dozen shopping bags by the time they left the third store.

"Having fun yet?" Annabeth asked sweetly, sipping an iced latte she'd picked up on the way out.

"Oh, tons," Percy deadpanned, shifting the bags. "My arms are having the best workout of their lives."

Annabeth grinned, unbothered. She slipped her free hand into his, swinging their arms lightly as they walked.

They ended the trip at the food court, because Percy flat-out refused to leave without mozzarella sticks. Annabeth wrinkled her nose at the grease but didn't complain when he shoved one toward her. She bit in, eyebrows lifting despite herself.

"Good, right?" Percy said, victorious.

"I've had better," Annabeth said primly, but her fingers were already reaching for another.

They sat like that for a while, Percy demolishing mozzarella sticks while Annabeth nibbled fries, shopping bags piled at their feet. It wasn't glamorous. It wasn't anything out of a movie. But with Annabeth leaning against his shoulder, the buzz of the mall fading into the background, Percy couldn't imagine anything better.

He glanced down at her, at the way her braids brushed his hoodie sleeve, at the way her brown eyes softened when she caught him looking.

"You know," he said quietly, "I don't care what you wear. I just... I like that it's you. Hoodie, party dress, fancy business suit—you make all of it look good."

Annabeth's lips curved. "You're lucky I'm not easily flattered."

"Lucky?" Percy leaned in, brushing his nose against her temple. "Pretty sure I'm the luckiest guy alive."

She rolled her eyes, but she didn't pull away. And when she reached for his hand again, threading her fingers through his, Percy decided maybe the mall wasn't so bad after all.

———