A/N:

so!

I would first off like to say this story is dedicated to two of my best friends Helena (GollyGeeWhiz) and Rachel (TheWritingManiac)! one year ago on this day Rachel messaged me on this site and introduced herself as a potential friend, and then with Rachel came Helena and now I have you two and I love you both dearly so this fic is to celebrate us because im super lame and gross

Helena – you are just amazing and I love you so so much. the time I spent with you at king's cross was honestly one of the best days of my life and im so happy I actually got to meet you and the Canada box was just so lovely and thank you for sending me Canadian food (you're the best) and bracelets and thank you for letting me rant about potential Childhood-esque romances and Glee and educating me on spirit weeks and that crazy fic coincidence? like honestly we're the true soulmates here

Rachel – you are also utterly FABULOUS and I love you dearly! thank you for writing me Christmas/birthday fics and talking to me about hot boys (which you know if you ever have too many pls ship them over) and the hunger games and those bloody skype emojis (oh dear lord) and that GIF WAR (which I totally won by the way) and making me so jealous about how pretty your side of the world is and just being one of the best friends you are so wonderful and I love you endlessly xxx

I would also like to say that I apologise in hindsight for this because it's literally the sappiest, most romantic, self-indulgent thing I've probably ever written in my entire life. if you need any further proof this was literally inspired by watching a proposal between one of my otps. that's where the opening quote is from. (im that lame). proceed with caution.

having said all that – title is from faithfully by journey (im just saying HOW RELEVANT is that title like wow it's not super vague like always), and I hope you enjoy! x

two strangers learn to fall in love again

"I'm not in the habit of taking people's hands I've never met before. But I think that my soul knew something that my body and my mind didn't know yet. It knew that our hands were meant to hold each other... fearlessly and forever.

Which is why it's never really felt like I've been getting to know you, it's always felt like I was remembering you from something. As if in every lifetime that you and I have ever lived, we've chosen to come back and find each other and fall in love all over again. Over and over. For all eternity.

And I just feel so lucky that I found you so soon in this lifetime, because all I want to do, all I've ever wanted to do, is spend my life loving you."

– Glee

Annabeth and Percy first meet in 1876 in England.

Annabeth is called Beth and Percy is the farmer's apprentice, and they are both eighteen years old and working jobs they don't want to. Annabeth and the scullery maid Pippa have been sent out to buy food, when Pippa whispers, "Not to frigh'en you or anythin', miss, but that boy's bin eyein' you up since we got here" with a subtle point across the market square. Annabeth is a little put out, both at the notion that there is a boy staring at her, and also that Pippa had called her miss ("you really don't have to do that, Pippa," she says. "We're of the same rank." "Yes, but you're a white, miss," Pippa tells her, softly), so when she turns around and meets eyes a brilliant green she almost falls over.

"Oh," she says.

Pippa grins at her. "You should say 'ello."

"What? Oh, Pippa, don't be silly, I can't. He's probably just being rude."

"He ain't looking at you like you're a piece'a meat, s'all I'm saying," Pippa says. "'E's looking, like. Proper interested."

Annabeth peeks over. The boy is still staring at her. He's standing by Farmer Lawrence, who is big and leery and who sometimes calls Annabeth things that make her uncomfortable, and normally that would be enough to make Annabeth's hackles rise, but he's not looking at her like Farmer Lawrence does, he's looking at her with an almost intrigued look on his face. Annabeth puts it down to her being seen with Pippa. She's one of the only Coloureds they have in this area. But something in his eyes is telling her that that's not, because he's not looking at Pippa at all, he's looking at her.

"I wish he would stop," Annabeth mutters.

Pippa looks at her curiously. "Why?"

"I don't know. Do you know who he is?"

"Apprentice, I should think."

"Yes, I got that."

Pippa jostles her gently. "'Ey, don't be rude."

"Do you know his name?"

"You could jus' go ask him, Beth."

"I can't. It would be improper and unladylike."

"It would only be improper and unladylike if you star'ed demanding things of him and expecting a cour'ship, or summat. But yer still allowed to talk to him, you know."

"I know." Annabeth frowns. "But I can't."

Pippa grins. "You will, though. Now. Ms Hestia asked us to pick up some apples, didn' she? Farmer Lawrence always does the freshest, juiciest ones."

Annabeth's eyes widen. "No, Pippa–"

But Pippa is already heading over, basket in her hand. Annabeth has to run after her. Normally, whenever Pippa decides to be impudent like this, Annabeth leaves her to her own devices, but the marketplace is a reckless, jostling place, and for a person like Pippa – a servant girl, not yet out of her teens, pretty, and coloured – this is a very potentially hostile environment. Annabeth has seen them throw things at her, and if they come home smelling of rotten tomatoes again they'll get blamed for it.

"Pippa!" she hisses. "What are you doing?"

"Just gettin' the groceries, Beth," Pippa says, with a mischievous smirk. "Now, catch up, if you stay there chasin' after me in public like this people might ge' the wrong idea."

Annabeth scowls at her, but nonetheless hurries up so she's walking in line with her. Together, they approach Farmer Lawrence's cart.

Farmer Lawrence notices them almost immediately. "Well, if it isn't Mrs Hera's girls," he says, a gleam to his eyes Annabeth doesn't really like. "Ms Hestia told me I should be expecting you."

"Hello, sir," Annabeth says, trying to politely avoid eye contact. "We just need to pick up some fruits and vegetables."

"Course, course," Lawrence says. He tilts up his head, and waves someone over. "Oi, Percy! My boy, come on over!"

Annabeth turns to see a boy – the boy – jogging over to them, in a white shirt and braces. She feels Pippa nudge her but she refuses to look at her – instead, all she can focus on is him. At first, she had thought him creepy, for staring at her so much, but as he draws closer, she notices that he's actually very, very handsome.

She feels herself begin to blush.

Farmer Lawrence claps the boy on the shoulder. "Ladies," he says. "This is my newest workhorse, Percival."

"Just Percy," the boy says.

"Just Percy," Lawrence says. "Percy, this is Beth, and Pippa. They work for Hestia at Mrs Hera's."

Percy bobs his head at them both. "Nice to meet you."

Pippa beams at him. Annabeth tries to as well, but she thinks it may come across as more of a grimace.

"You take care of their order, you hear?" Lawrence says. "I need to attend to a customer across the courtyard. You think you can handle them?"

"I'm sure, sir," Percy says confidently.

"Good lad." Lawrence claps him on the shoulder again, maybe a little too hard, because Percy winces, and then turns to the girls. "Don't you worry, girls, he's good. Jus' tell him what you want."

"Thank you, sir," Annabeth says. Lawrence nods at her once, and then sets off, heavy-footed.

Percy smiles at them. "What can I get for you today?"

Annabeth turns to Pippa, half-expecting her to answer, but Pippa just shakes her head, almost imperceptibly. Annabeth gets it – she's coloured, it wouldn't be right for her to order people around – but Pippa is her friend and in front of this very pretty boy with nice glittery eyes she needs moral support.

"Pippa?" she prompts.

Pippa's eyes widen. "Miss Beth, I can't–"

"Pippa will tell you," Annabeth tells Percy. "I'm very sorry, but I have completely forgotten what groceries we need to pick up."

Pippa scowls at her, and then straightens the edge of her pinafore. "Uh," she says, slightly hesitantly. "We need some toma'oes."

Her voice is no louder than a whisper, but Percy nods.

"Of course. Anything else?"

Pippa swallows. Annabeth nudges her. "Potatoes," she whispers. "Some cabbage. And a dozen apples."

Percy nods, and then turns away and starts packing their items into a paper bag. Annabeth distantly admires how good his legs look in his trousers, but then she feels Pippa tug her nearer and whisper, "Beth, you can't do that, I coulda been whipped."

"No, you couldn't've," Annabeth says stoutly, even though they know that when it comes to coloureds laws are bent in an assortment of stupid ways. "Besides, if he started putting up a fuss, I would have set him in his place."

Pippa's kaleidoscope eyes are wide. "But then you woulda been whipped."

"Best friends, remember?"

Pippa smiles wryly, and then jabs her in the ribs. "Next time, you talk."

"Okay."

Percy turns around, with a bag full of their belongings. Annabeth takes it from his hands and then passes it to Pippa, who puts it in her basket, and then picks up the satchel of coins Ms Hestia had given them and digs out three shillings. "Here you are, sir," she says. "Thank you."

"It's all right, miss," Percy says. He looks a bit nervous. Annabeth was planning on heading off as soon as she had paid, but the way he's shifting his weight from foot to foot and wringing his hands tells her he wants to ask her something.

"Yes?" she prompts gently.

"You– you work for Mrs Hera, don't you?" he blurts. "At the big white house down the road."

Annabeth nods. "We do. Ms Hestia is our cook."

"Would– would I perhaps be able to see you again?"

Annabeth's eyebrows almost disappear into her hairline. "Pardon?"

"I–I would quite like to see you again, Beth. Do you have any free afternoons?"

Annabeth can't believe what she's hearing. She glances at Pippa, who is watching the interaction with a big smile on her face.

"Uh–" Annabeth stutters out. "I–"

"On Sunday afternoons Mrs 'era goes to town," Pippa says, and Annabeth stares at her. She's got a smirk on her face. "You can pick up Beth then, if you wan'. We don' 'ave any chores to do."

Percy looks at Annabeth. "Beth?"

"Yes," Annabeth manages. "Sunday."

"Can I meet you there at lunchtime?"

Annabeth doesn't think she can speak. Pippa takes over. "She'd love'ta, sir," she says earnestly.

Annabeth shakily nods. Percy grins, the tension deflating out his body. "Good," he says. "Good. Thank you. Uh." He shakes his head. "I'll see you soon, Beth. It's been nice meeting you, Pippa."

Pippa nods at him with a close-lipped, sparkly-eyed smile. Annabeth manages one last weak smile, before Pippa is setting off across the market square with one hand around the handle of the basket and the other tucked in the crook of Annabeth's elbow.

As soon as they are out of earshot, Annabeth hisses, "What just happened?"

"I do believe Percy is hinting at a courtship, Miss."

Annabeth doesn't even chide her for the title, because she knows Pippa is just being cheeky. "I can't– I can't believe this. And what happened to you? You were so afraid of talking until he asked me if I had any free afternoons!"

"Well, I knew you couldn' do it," Pippa says amiably. "You looked like you'd seen a ghost or summat."

"We're not allowed to court, Pippa."

Pippa waves her hands. "Nonsense, Miss Aphrodite sneaks out to see the blacksmith e'ery day. Besides, Percy seems nice! And you liked him, didn' you?"

Annabeth sighs. "I did. He's– very handsome."

Pippa stops. "Are you blushin'?"

Annabeth keeps walking. "No."

"You are!" Pippa chases after her. "Oh, Beth, you do like him! I'm so glad. You mus' tell me everythin' that happens on Sunday, all right?"

"Of course," Annabeth says. "Now all we need to do is find you a handsome boy."

Piper waves her hand. "Don't be silly, Beth. No boy will want to court me."

Annabeth stops. "What on earth are you talking about?"

Pippa talks dismissively, but there's a sad look in her eyes. "I'm coloured, Beth. And I'm workin' one'uv the lowest servant ranks. I'm, like– nothin'."

"You being coloured shouldn't have anything to do with that," Annabeth tells her.

"Tell tha' to everyone. The only reason I go' this job is because they were desperate and I needed to be sold off some'ow, innit?" She sighs. "Maybe one day I'll find a handsome coloured boy who will like me."

"You will," Annabeth tells her resolutely, squeezing her hand.

Pippa just sighs, rolling her eyes a little. "It don't matter. What really matters is you, and your date with Percy. What are you going to wear?"

"Oh." Annabeth links her arm with Pippa's. "Well, I'll wear a luxurious gown, of the softest pink silk you can imagine, and my petticoats will be satin and oh so soft to the touch. I'll wear ribbons in my hair, and I shall let it out of this wretched bun, and I'll also wear a string of pearls around my neck."

"Don't forget your pinafore," Pippa says, giggling. "You can wrestle that over your gown. And you can cram your cap on top of your 'air."

Annabeth tickles her and she lets out a shriek and dances away.

"There's a boy asking after you, Beth," Ms Hestia says mildly.

Annabeth's head jerks up. "Ms Hestia," she gasps. "I'm– I'm so sorry, I know I should have told you–"

"Don't be silly, girl." Ms Hestia's smile is soft and gentle. She pauses. "He is very handsome."

Annabeth flushes. "I–I suppose so."

"Should I tell him you wish to see him?"

"You– aren't angry, Ms Hestia?"

"How could I? I've never seen you in such a tizzy before. He clearly makes you happy. Where did you two meet?"

Annabeth ducks her head. "At the market," she says. "When Pippa and I went. He's– he's working for Farmer Lawrence. As his apprentice. He served us with our food. He's– he's very charming."

Hestia smiles at her. "He sounds like a nice boy." There's something warm and motherly and firm in her eyes. "You have fun, Beth, dear. Don't stray and be too late."

"I won't, Ms Hestia," Annabeth says. She hesitates. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Hestia tells her. "Go. He's waiting."

Annabeth gives her one last grateful look, and then tucks a stray blonde curl behind her ear and straightens her frock. It's the only other dress she has aside from her pinafore. It's not much, but her pinafore is hideous, and at least this is a pretty colour. It's purple, and probably too thin for the slight April chill, but Percy is very handsome and she doesn't want her first meeting with him to be in her work clothes.

"Okay," she says. "Will– will you tell Pippa that I said goodbye?"

"Of course," Ms Hestia says. "Now, go."

Annabeth nods, and then takes a deep breath, and moves towards the door. True to his word, when she steps around it, there he is, pretty green eyes and bashful smile and all. He has his hands in his pockets and his worn boots are slightly turned in on themselves. He's nervous.

He looks incredibly relieved to see her. "Beth!"

"Hello, Percy," she says. "You look very handsome."

Percy flushes. "Oh, thank you. You look beautiful. I– like your dress."

"Oh, this old thing?" Annabeth laughs. "Well, thank you. I made it myself, you know."

"Really?" Percy offers his arm in imitation of what the rich gentlemen do for their lovers, and Annabeth giggles and accepts it. He looks very pleased with himself, and they set off through the gates of Mrs Hera's estate and into town. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I made it myself."

He rolls his eyes. "I got that, silly. But why?"

"Well, we have to visit church every Sunday, and I needed something smart and respectable to wear there, and it's not proper for me to wear my uniform. I don't earn even nearly enough to buy a proper dress, so at the market I purchased some fabric and made the dress."

"That's very admirable," Percy says. "I'd never know what to do."

"Well, of course not. You're a boy."

Percy holds his hand to his chest in mock offence and Annabeth laughs delightedly. "Beth, you wound me. I bet you I could be just as good of a seamstress as you are if I practiced."

"A man, doing the sewing? It would be dreadfully frowned upon."

"I'll be the one laughing when I'm not breaking my back for pennies to afford clothing," Percy says primly. "Your decision in dressmaking seems very practical for money."

"Well, it has to be. As a servant I'll never earn enough to buy a proper dress." Annabeth sighs, a little wistfully. "Oh, but I wish I could."

"Buy a dress?"

"Of course! Have you seen how beautiful some of the gowns are? Oh, Percy, one day I travelled down to London to be with my aunt, before I became a servant, and some of the ladies had simply the most beautiful dresses I've ever seen. The fashion there is so elegant." She sighs. "I'd give my left arm to wear something that grand one day."

"Your left arm? Doesn't that seem a little hindering? You could offer your leg instead. I'm sure it would be worth more, too."

Annabeth laughs. "Are you debating about what limbs I'd give in order to obtain a dress?"

"All I'm saying is that an arm would barely be enough for a sack of potatoes, let alone a dress. Especially an arm like yours."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're dreadfully thin, Beth. A singular pup wouldn't get enough meat off that."

"Yes, well, it comes with the territory, I suppose." Annabeth sighs a little, closing her eyes in the gentle sunshine. "We do get fed, however. Ms Hestia is very kind to us."

"Us?"

"Pippa and I. You met her at the market this week."

"Oh, her." Percy nods. "She– she looks very interesting."

"She is. She's my best friend. Our sleeping quarters are quite dingy and small, and she makes for great company."

Percy chews his lip. "Does it ever..." he begins hesitantly, "concern you? That she's coloured?"

Annabeth stops walking. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I don't mean it as an insult to Pippa. I just– your life can't be easy, being her friend. I mean, her life can't be easy, being her."

Annabeth hums. "It's not. Sometimes we get things thrown at us."

"Like what?"

"On a good day, just food. Rotten tomatoes reek something awful when they settle into your clothes. We have to hurry home and wash everything twice over. But sometimes they throw stones."

"Stones?"

"They're not very big, but they hurt." She gives a one-shouldered shrug. "It's just the way things are, I supposed. Everyone is bigoted and full of prejudice."

"You can say that."

They walk for a little longer in comfortable silence. The sunshine is pleasant – warm, but not hot, and there's a slight breeze that stops Annabeth from sweating through her dress. Her hand is still tucked in the crook of Percy's arm, and whenever he moves it she can feel the muscles jump beneath her fingers.

After a while, she asks, "Where are we going?"

"Mr Lawrence told me about a piano concerto that's happening," Percy says. "I thought I'd take you to see it."

Annabeth stares at him. "A piano concerto? But isn't that terribly expensive?"

"Not a proper one. It's just an informal performance, out on the green. Lots of families are picnicking there. I thought we could join them."

There's a slight blush on his cheeks as he speaks. He looks almost nervous as he talks, which Annabeth finds incredibly endearing, like he's afraid she'll hate the idea. But actually, she's thrilled. Annabeth loves music. She hasn't heard a lot of it, but she likes it all the same. Piper has a very pretty voice and sometimes at night they'll wriggle in the same bed and she'll stroke her hair and sing to her, and very occasionally Mrs Hera's children, Miss Aphrodite and Mr Apollo, will come visit, and they'll play on the piano in the setting room and sing along, and Annabeth will be able to hear them from the kitchens.

"Oh, Percy," she says. "That sounds so wonderful."

He deflates. "Really?"

"Of course! I don't get to hear music a lot. I love the sound of a piano."

"So do I," Percy admits. "In Mr Lawrence's house they have a piano. I'm not allowed to touch it, and I wouldn't know how to play it anyway, but sometimes his daughter plays and sings and it's very beautiful."

Something irrational twists in Annabeth's stomach at the mention of Mr Lawrence's daughter. She's seen her before, at the market square – she's tall and blonde, like herself, but she's got bright blue eyes and a pouty mouth and flushed cheeks. She's very, very beautiful indeed, and also an utter menace. It doesn't sit well with Annabeth to know that Percy is living in such close quarters with her.

"Oh," Annabeth says. "I–I didn't know Miss Lawrence sang."

"She's very good at it," Percy says earnestly, which only makes Annabeth feel worse. "But it doesn't matter about her. We have a piano concerto to go see." He offers his arm again, from where Annabeth's hand had slipped from the crook of his elbow. "Mademoiselle?"

Annabeth laughs. "Your French is quite awful, Percy."

"That's probably true."

Annabeth just rolls her eyes, and links her arm with his. "Let's go, then."

The park where the concerto is a bit of a walk away, but they spend it in comfortable conversation. As they approach, Annabeth sees a white stage with a piano on it, and then several rows of benches positioned in front of it. She isn't so naïve as to hope that they're for her – the benches are for the rich, who could probably afford a proper concerto in an opera house, but want to sit outside. The servants sit on the grass several metres behind them. She can see several people from both classes milling around – there is a lady in a beautiful pink dress taking up more than several seats on a bench, and a servant couple, not unlike Percy and Annabeth, sitting down, their hands intertwined.

Percy leads her behind the benches and they sit down on the grass. He is awkwardly chivalrous, offering for her to sit on his jacket – a threadbare thing, that perhaps once was handsome, but now is shabby with wear – but she declines and plops down quite readily by herself.

"Are you sure?" Percy asks.

"Percy, I'm sitting down. I am quite sure."

"Well." He uses it for himself. "You may be fine with ants crawling into your drawers, but I'm certainly not."

"I'm wearing about three different petticoats, I'd quite like to see them try."

They sit on the grass, admiring the music. They're too far away to see anything, and the benches set out in front of the stage filled with people, wearing top hats and bonnets covered in feathers, act as a good enough boundary even if they were closer. Still, they can hear the music, and that's all that matters.

There is a polite round of applause, and Annabeth grabs Percy's hand. "It's starting!" she says excitedly.

"Yes, I gathered that."

She smacks his thigh. "Your manners are simply appalling."

"Only the best for you, ma'am," he says with a wink, and she laughs, delighted.

The pianist is very, very good. The first piece he plays is upbeat and fun, and up ahead Annabeth can see some children happily dancing around with each other to it. She almost wants to join them before realising how unladylike that would be, and instead resorts to tapping along on her knee.

Percy leans in close. "Are you having fun?"

"I'm having so much fun. I love the music."

"I do too." Percy sighs, content. "Miss Lawrence is a very talented pianist, don't get me wrong, but listening to her practice for hours upon hours, where she gets almost every note wrong, is just not very appealing. It's nice to be able to submerge yourself in a piece and not get drastically ripped out when they hit a wrong note."

Annabeth fights to keep the ugly jealousy at bay. "I'm sure she is."

"I mean, you'd hope so," Percy says. "Lawrence said the missus has been teaching her since she could walk. If she wasn't very good at all it'd be a bit troubling, I'd think." He peers at her. "Are you all right, Beth? You look ill."

"I'm fine."

"You aren't– jealous, are you?"

Annabeth's face colours. "No, that's nonsense."

A grin starts to spread across Percy's face. "You are!"

"No I'm not."

"You've got nothing to be jealous of, Beth, I swear it. Miss Lawrence is very pretty but she hasn't got a whole lot going on behind it, if you know what I mean." He pauses, and then, as an afterthought, adds, "If we got married, I really would have to start sewing."

Annabeth can't help the laugh that escapes. "Percy, you are dreadful!"

"What? It's true! She was sat in the garden on the veranda trying to darn some clothes earlier, I could see because I was planting some tomatoes, and it got so awful that Mrs Lawrence had to come and unpick everything because she'd somehow sewn the dress closed."

Annabeth giggles. "Oh dear. She sounds a little– simple."

"A little?" Percy shakes his head. "Lawrence actually offered for her to sew up my jacket – this one, the one I'm sitting on – and I had to make up a lie about how this was simply the fashion of it for him to get off my case. I mean, look at it, it's hanging together by nothing more than threads but if I let her get her hands on it it would end up closer to a pair of trousers than a jacket."

Annabeth snorts. "Your jacket isn't that bad."

"It really is." Percy sighs, a little wistfully. "I haven't got the money to afford a new one, though, or get a tailor, either, so until it falls apart I'll just have to do."

The music slows to a stop, and there's a round of applause. Annabeth jerks slightly – she was so involved in her conversation with Percy she had almost forgotten they were there to listen to the music. She claps, even though she can't remember half of what she's just heard, and then the next piece starts. It's a pretty waltz that she doesn't recognise but likes immediately.

"This one is nice," she says.

Percy laughs. "Do you want to dance?"

Annabeth's eyes widen. "Here?"

"Why not? Look, everyone is dancing, too." He nods at the benches, where gradually everyone has begun to stand up and start swaying along. "Come on."

"But– we're servants."

"Is it a law that servants can't dance?"

Annabeth stares at his outstretched hand for a very long time, before she takes it. "Fine," she says. "Can you dance?"

"Not very well," Percy admits as he pulls her to her feet. "Can you?"

"Not at all."

He grins at her. "This should be great fun, then."

Annabeth peers over Percy's shoulder and observes how the others are dancing. She and Pippa dance together sometimes, in their bedroom, swaying together and giggling hysterically, but that's playful, and they also don't mind if they step on each other's toes. Here it's different. She focuses in on one couple in particular who appear to know what they're doing, and then rests her hand on Percy's shoulder.

"I think this is how you do it," she says, slightly uncertainly.

Percy puts his hand on her shoulder, too, and it instantly eases her nerves. She laughs.

"What?"

"Your hand goes on my waist. Here, like this." She takes his hand and rests it on the side of her hip. "Now I think we just– step."

"Step?"

"I think so. That's what everyone else is doing."

"This won't go wrong at all."

"Well, it will if you keep thinking like that. Come on, think positively."

"I'm positively sure I might accidentally step on you."

"I might too, but that's okay, because we're both learning. Now, come on, sway with me."

Together, they move. They're clumsy and uncertain and fumbling and Annabeth thinks she steps on Percy's feet a good seven or eight times, but she's having so much fun she can't even complain. At one point Percy tries to twirl her and she almost falls over, and they both laugh so loud they get some less-than-pleased looks from the others dancing alongside them, and normally she'd have it in her to be embarrassed but it's the way Percy's eyes sparkle that makes her lose all inhibitions.

With Percy, she thinks she can be fearless.

"Thank you for taking me," Annabeth says as they walk home. "I had a really lovely time."

Percy's cheeks tinge pink, but he smiles. "I'm glad. I was afraid you'd hate it, to be honest."

"Hate it? Why would I hate it?"

"I wasn't sure if you'd be okay with sitting and listening to a piano for an hour. Some girls don't like that sort of thing. I was trying to explain it to Miss Lawrence but she just seemed upset that we wouldn't be able to see the performer."

"I don't see why you'd need to see the performer to have a good time," Annabeth says. "Besides, you're much nicer to look at than he was."

It slips out by accident. She flames scarlet, but Percy looks pleased.

"Thank you," he says. His voice takes on a teasing lilt. "I tried to tell her that, but I don't think she quite understood." He taps his forehead. "Nothing there, like I said."

Annabeth laughs. "You're so awful."

"I'm just stating a fact, Beth. She's very pretty but her brain is about the size of a walnut."

Annabeth opens her mouth to retort, when suddenly she feels something land on her cheek. She frowns, and then looks up.

"It's raining," she says.

Percy grabs her hand. "Come on, we need to be quick."

Together, they race back down the path. Annabeth has to hold her cap to her head so it doesn't fly off with her free hand with how fast they're going, but she finds she doesn't even mind. The rain is coming down hard now – it came out of nowhere, and now it's really pouring. Giggling, they both sprint as fast as they can.

The mud track has become slippery and muddy with the rain, and when they start running down the hill they both go tumbling several times, but not once do they ever let go of each other's hands. By the time they reach town, Annabeth's dress is covered with mud and her hair is soaking wet and Percy's boots are almost ruined, but she doesn't think she's ever been happier.

They duck under a piece of awning tucked in a back alley for shelter, breathless. Percy turns to Annabeth and his eyes go wide. "Oh, Beth, you're absolutely sopping. Here, take my jacket."

Before Annabeth can protest, he's already sliding it off, and puts it around her shoulders. She takes the lapels in her hands and pulls it tighter, shivering a little. It smells of him – soap and grass – and she instinctively burrows into it for comfort.

"Thank you," she says.

Percy pushes a hand through his wet hair. "I was not expecting it to rain that hard." He peers at her. "Oh no, your dress!"

She glances down. The hem is simply caked in mud, and she doesn't doubt that it may have been torn, too, from the brambles. It's going to be a nightmare to fix up and Ms Hestia is definitely going to give her hell for it, but she finds she doesn't care.

"It's nothing," she says. "I can just wash it."

"Are you sure? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to pull you along like that–"

"Percy," Annabeth says, and he falls quiet. "It's okay. I've had fun. It was quite the rush, wasn't it?"

He stares at her, and then a grin starts spreading across his face. "I suppose it was."

They stay there for a few minutes longer, waiting out the worst of the rain. Percy has found a bucket that he's upturned and now is using as a chair, and Annabeth is wringing out her curls, trying to dry them with her cap. She tries not to stare at him, but it's difficult. Leaning against the wall, his elbows braced on his knees, he looks so regal and handsome, that it's hard to picture him as nothing more than a lowly farmer's boy. The rain has plastered his clothing to his body and Annabeth knows looking too closely at a boy's figure is considered rude and indecent, but he's so fascinating, the way he holds himself juxtaposing the boyish grin on his face, that she can't tear her eyes away.

He's beautiful.

"Are you all right, Beth?" Percy asks, and she jerks herself out of her reverie. "You look a little lost."

"Oh, I'm fine," she says. She crams her cap back on her head, and then peers out at the sky. "I think the rain's clearing up. Let's go before it starts pouring again."

Percy springs to his feet and takes her hand again, leading her out. They get some looks, in their dishevelled state, but with Percy's hand in hers, Annabeth feels like she can take on anything, and they don't bother her. In fact, she holds her head up high. They're nothing more than servants, but Percy is ethereal and he's holding her hand and they have danced together, and she feels like she has something over everyone, because she gets Percy and they don't.

He doesn't let go of her hand for the entire walk home.

Eventually, they reach Mrs Hera's estate. Annabeth has to lead him around the back, because they're not allowed to go in through the front, and she's also not sure if Mrs Hera has come back yet and she doesn't want to see her with Percy. They stand in front of the door, their hands clasped, both still wet, but with smiles on their faces.

"Thank you," Annabeth says. "For– all of this. It's been very lovely. I've enjoyed myself a lot."

Percy grins bashfully. "It's okay. I'm glad you enjoyed it." He squeezes her hand. "Will I be able to see you again?"

"Pippa and I are scheduled to visit the market again this week. And we always have Sunday."

A flush colours his cheeks. "I'll– be able to see you next Sunday as well?"

"You can have all the Sundays you want."

Now they're both blushing.

"Thank you," he says. "Thank you."

"It's all right. Today has been wonderful."

"Even though I stepped on your feet and it rained and now your dress is ruined?"

"Especially because of that."

He smiles, and then squeezes her hands again. "I–I should be probably heading back."

"Okay," Annabeth says. Her hands slip from his, but he doesn't move. She stares up at him, with his big beautiful green eyes, and before she can help herself in a moment of bravery she pushes up onto her tiptoes and kisses his cheek.

When she pulls away, Percy's face is scarlet, but he's got the biggest, silliest smile that her heart flutters at. "Oh," he says dumbly.

She suppresses a smile. "I'll see you soon, Percy," she says.

"Yeah. Yeah– you too."

Dazed, he makes his way back down the path. Before he leaves through the gate, he spares one glance back at her, and then grins and sets off.

It isn't until he's disappeared from view that she realises she's still wearing his jacket. She almost turns back around to give it to him, until she holds out her hands and sees where it's coming apart at the seams, sees a big hole near the elbow, and a tangle of loose threads at the hem of it.

She ducks back inside and quickly nips through the kitchen, trying to avoid the stare of all the other maids, who are sure to start gossiping about her potential beau and who it could be of all the village boys. She doesn't stop until she's in her room, where she gently shucks the jacket off and spreads it across her blanket. She lights the stub of the candle they have left and then pulls out her needle, a pair of scissors and an old brown skirt she doesn't want or need anymore but has survived being thrown out for sentimentality's sake.

She spends the entire evening gradually patching it back up together. She uses the skirt for the bigger holes and just the needle for the smaller ones. At some point Pippa comes back in, and she curls up next to her with her dark head on her shoulder and enquires after her and Percy's outing, and they talk for hours. But not once does her needle stop. Percy's jacket is broken, and she's going to fix it for him.

Eventually, Pippa goes to sleep, and Annabeth has to keep relighting the candle so she can see what she's doing. She doesn't get to sleep until very, very late, when she can't hear a sound and she knows the entire house has gone to bed, and Percy's jacket is finished.

She leaves it on the stool, and then curls up in bed. She'll give it to him on Sunday.

It's 1941 and all Annabeth hears are trains.

Mama told her not to look, but she can't help it – there are just so many of them, lining up to get onto the trains. As Mama drags her along to school, Annabeth cranes her neck to get a look over the fences. There are hundreds and hundreds of people crowded onto the station, adults, and also children, too, just like her, but they all have yellow stars sewn onto their sleeves.

Annabeth stops. "Mama?" she asks, and Mama looks down. "Where are they going?"

"I told you not to look, Anna."

"I'm sorry, Mama, I couldn't help it."

Mama just sighs, and runs a hand through Annabeth's curls. She does that a lot nowadays. Sometimes Annabeth wakes up and Mama's just sitting by her bedside, twirling her curls between her fingers, and sometimes, when Mama is giving her a hug before she runs into school, she feels her whispering into her hair, in reverence, almost. Annabeth wonders why.

"They're– going on a trip," Mama says.

"For holiday?"

"No, Anna," Mama says. "They– they don't live here anymore. So they're moving to a new place."

"Oh," Annabeth says, soothed. "So they're going home."

Mama's face looks strained. "Yes," she says, her voice strangely stiff. "They're going home. But it doesn't matter, Anna. Now, come on, or you'll be late for school."

Annabeth obediently allows herself to be pulled along, but she doesn't look away from the train station. Everyone looks sad, and she wonders why. If they're going home, shouldn't they be happy? Mama said that's what they're doing, and Mama wouldn't lie to her.

And then she spots someone.

"Mama!" she cries, and Mama stops. "Look, it's Mrs Jackson!"

"Who?"

"Mrs Jackson!" Annabeth says. "She's my teacher at school!" She stops. "Where is she going? She lives here. She told me that Berlin's her home." Before Mama can stop her, she's wriggled her hand out of her tight grip, and she's running towards the fence. Mama lets out a gasp behind her, but Annabeth doesn't stop – she wants to say goodbye to Mrs Jackson.

Mrs Jackson is her teacher at school. She's very, very pretty, with soft brown hair and sparkly eyes, and sometimes if Annabeth is very good Mrs Jackson will give her a sweet. She's got a nice voice and she's good at telling stories, and Annabeth loves sitting on the carpet and listening to her read out Hansel and Gretel at storytime. The day after Papa was taken away, Mrs Jackson had patted Annabeth on the head and told her to be brave.

Annabeth always assumed Papa had died, and Mama hadn't told her, because she thought she wasn't old enough (which she was, because she's eight, and she knows all about dying). But now she's looking at the lines of people in brown coats and yellow stars, and Mrs Jackson with them, and she's wondering if Papa was taken off in a train too.

"Mrs Jackson!" she shouts. "Mrs Jackson!"

"Anja!" Mama shouts, using her proper name, which means she's in trouble. "Come back here!"

Mrs Jackson turns around, and she spots Annabeth waving frantically at the fence. Annabeth sees some of the officers turn around, too, and suddenly she shrinks back a bit. The officers are scary. They all wear the same symbol on their chests, the one the teachers have to hang in all the classrooms – "the sign of the Nazis," Mama once said, in a tone Annabeth couldn't place – and Annabeth doesn't want to get in trouble with them. But Mrs Jackson is looking at her, so she gives her a big wide smile.

"Mrs Jackson!" she shouts again. "It's me, Anna!"

"Anja Chase!" Mama says from behind her. "You come back here right now!"

"No, Mama!" Annabeth says desperately. "I need to say goodbye to Mrs Jackson!"

"Go to your mama, Annabeth," Mrs Jackson says, her voice almost inaudible over the noise of everything else. "Go back to your mama."

"But Mrs Jackson!" Annabeth cries. "Where are you going? We haven't finished Hansel and Gretel yet!"

Mrs Jackson gives her a small, melancholy kind of smile. "You can finish it with Mrs Muller," she says, and Annabeth pulls a face because she hates Mrs Muller, she's old and she smells of fish oil. "You remember where we stopped, don't you, Anna?"

Annabeth ignores her question. "Where are you going, Mrs Jackson?"

Mrs Jackson hesitates. "I'm going on a trip," she says. "To a new place. Isn't that exciting?"

By this time, Mama is right behind her. She puts her hand on Annabeth's shoulder, to steer her away, and just the feeling of her touch is the catalyst for Annabeth to blurt, "Will you see Papa?"

Annabeth feels Mama freeze. Mrs Jackson just smiles softly, her eyes pained.

"I might see your papa, Anna," she says. "If I do I'll tell him you said hello."

"Come along, Anna," Mama says firmly. "Say your goodbyes to Mrs Jackson."

"Mrs Jackson," Annabeth says. "I don't want you to leave. I don't like Mrs Muller. She's mean to me."

"Anna," Mama says, in a hard voice.

"You be a good girl for Mrs Muller," Mrs Jackson says. "And for your mama. You can finish Hansel and Gretel by yourself. You're a smart girl."

Annabeth's throat suddenly feels tight. "Mrs Jackson–"

"Now, Anna," Mama says. Her grip on Annabeth's shoulder becomes almost painful, and Annabeth reluctantly allows herself to be dragged away. She risks a glance back over her shoulder, through the fence, and sees Mrs Jackson's kind pretty eyes staring at her one last time, before an officer in a jacket with the swastika comes up next to her and grabs her arm.

Annabeth jolts. "Mrs Jackson–!"

"Come along, Anna," Mama says.

"No, Mama! They're hurting her!"

"Now, Anna!"

"Mama–"

Mama grabs her arm and whirls her around so she's staring straight at her. She's shocked by the look in Mama's eyes. She was expecting anger – but Mama looks scared. It's enough to shut Annabeth up entirely. "You listen to me, Anja," she says, and her voice is low, and urgent. "You know your Papa was taken away. But you don't know where."

"Whe–"

"It's called Auchwitz, and it's a terrible, terrible place, mausebär. Your Mrs Jackson is going there. All of those people are going there."

"But why, Mama?"

"Because they're Jews. And our Hitler doesn't like Jews. Those men with the swastikas, the scary ones? They work for him. They don't like the Jews. But you– you're safe, Anja. But only if you behave."

"Why am I safe, Mama?"

Mama just smiles tiredly, and runs her hand through Annabeth's blonde hair. "You're a little German ideal, mausebär. But if you run up and down and shout after Jews, then you'll get taken away like Papa, and like Mrs Jackson, do you understand?"

Mama's eyes are dark and imploring. Terrified, Annabeth nods.

"Yes, Mama."

"You won't tell anyone about this conversation, understand, Anna?"

Annabeth thinks of the girls at school, and how she tells them everything. Then she thinks of the swastika hanging above the door, Mrs Jackson's sad look, and her Mama, frantic and terrified, gripping her shoulder so tightly she might bruise at the mention of her Papa.

"Yes, Mama."

"Good girl," Mama says, relieved. "Now, come along, or you'll be late for school."

She takes Annabeth's hand again, and distantly Annabeth hears the Horst-Wessel-Lied start to play over the speakers. She knows all the words – they're taught them in school, and they have to sing it every day around the swastika flagpole. But they're like a blur in her mind, as she risks one final glance backwards.

She can't see Mrs Jackson anymore, but she can see someone else. He can't be any older than her, and he's in a pair of school shorts with a yellow star on his sleeve, and he looks so scared. His big green eyes are darting up and down, and, for a second, his eyes meet her.

She can only stare at him, terrified. This is a boy, a child, and he's going to Auchwitz, with Mrs Jackson, and Papa, because he's a Jew.

He blinks, and then he's being pulled onto a train, and Annabeth is crossing the road, and a car crosses in front of her and when it disappears again the boy is gone. Annabeth turns away from the station, and instead resolutely looks ahead of her, feeling Mama's grip on her hand tighten, like she knows what she's just seen.

The Horst-Wessel blares in the background. Annabeth squeezes her eyes shut and prays that she doesn't start crying.

Right now, she just has to be brave.

"Es schau'n aufs hakenkreuz voll hoffnung schon millionen. Der tag für freiheit und für brot bricht an!"

It's 1987, and the band are electric.

There are four of them, dirty and wild, in their leather jackets, with their hair shaggy and damp with sweat. They're screaming into their microphones, in a way that stopped being pleasant to Annabeth about half an hour ago, but for everyone else, who are half drunk and moshing clumsily on the dancefloor, they're incredible, like it's really AC/DC and not a loud, slightly under-rehearsed four-piece who need to wash their hair and also get their vocal cords checked out, to make sure none of them have been torn from all the screaming. Annabeth sips her water from where she's sat at the bar, eyeing them. Rachel and Piper are having just as much fun as seemingly everyone else, jumping around and throwing their hair around like they're at a real concert. The only reason Annabeth can still see them is because Rachel's red hair is quite hard to miss. Especially when she's tossing it everywhere like she is now.

"You don't wanna join in?" the bartender asks.

Annabeth doesn't look away from the crowd as she sips her water. "Nah. I'm good."

"Want a beer? You can't just sit her and drink water the whole night."

"Yes I can."

"Suit yourself."

He goes to refill someone else's glass, and Annabeth just sighs and pulls her denim jacket tighter around her. It's not cold – bloody hell, how can it, the amount of body heat everyone is exuding from the dance floor in those thick jeans is enough to power a house for a month – but she needs the comfort right now. She's not a big bar fan. The only reason she's even here is because Rachel and Piper had begged her to, and when they had gotten down on their knees she had decided to just put them out of her misery.

("Fine, oh my God, just get off the floor."

Piper squeals and scrambles up, throwing herself at her in what Annabeth thinks is supposed to be a hug but is more like an elbow to the boob. "Yes! Thank you!"

"You're not going to regret this," Rachel says. "I promise you."

"Yeah, yeah.")

They had promised her that they'd stay with her the whole night, knowing her track record of tending to flee whenever she was somewhere she didn't want to be, and to be fair, it was Annabeth's fault they left her, because asking them to stay with her the whole night was a lot to ask, so she had just reassuringly patted their butts and told them to go have fun.

She's regretting it now. They don't look like they plan on leaving anytime soon, and Rachel's got their money in her back pocket, so Annabeth can't exactly get a bus back home. She doesn't even know where she is.

Ugh. She crossly takes a sip of water. They'd better bloody appreciate what a good friend she is after this.

The set goes on for maybe twenty more minutes. Annabeth gets progressively more and more fed up the longer they play, and by the time the lead guitarist waves his hands and shouts, "Thank you!" she's ready to leave, or possibly drown herself in the beer keg. Maybe both. She's also sweaty and uncomfortably humid, from all the perspiring everyone on the dance floor was doing, and her carefully constructed ponytail has now sagged to the base of her neck in a mass of matted curls. She should have known wearing a scrunchie to a bar concert was a bad idea.

Piper and Rachel come dancing out of the crowd to where Annabeth is sitting. They both look like they've had a few drinks, although Rachel seems only marginally tipsy, with just enough alcohol to make her seem a little more carefree and without inhibitions, whereas Piper is completely pissed. She stumbles a little coming over.

"Annabeth!" she shouts. "Wasn't that s'coooool? I had s'much fun!"

"They started handing out shots," Rachel explains, her arm around Piper's waist to keep her upright. "Piper got a bit excited."

"They tasted great," Piper says earnestly.

Annabeth suppresses the urge to massage her temples. Piper is her best friend, and also her housemate, but dealing with drunk Piper is like babysitting five high-strung toddlers. "How many did you have?"

Piper holds out both her hands and starfishes them several times. Annabeth hopes that means I don't know and not fifty.

"Lots!" she cries. "Lots and lots! They were all different colours! I had a green one, and a blue one, and a pink one, and another pink one, and they all tasted of fruit, and they were very delicious." She tries to step away from Rachel and do a spin, but she completely misjudges her footing and almost faceplants.

Rachel and Annabeth grab her just in time. Piper happily lolls against them. "We need to get you home, tipsy," Rachel says, teasing.

"No!" Piper says. "No! Leo invited me backstage!"

Annabeth frowns. "Who on earth is Leo?"

"He was in the band! He's my friend!"

Annabeth wants to cry. She had completely forgotten the only reason they showed up because it was one of Piper's friends' bands. She just wants to go home and sleep, is that too much to ask? "Piper, you're completely drunk. We really need to get you home."

"I'm never letting you do shots ever again," Rachel says.

"No!" Piper wails. "I want to go backstage!"

She looks like she's genuinely about to cry. Annabeth sighs, and she and Rachel share a look over the top of her head. They come to a silent agreement.

Crikey, Annabeth is too sober for this.

"Fine," she says. "But only for a few minutes. You're going to start upchucking those shots soon and I want it to be in a toilet bowl and not on my shoes."

Piper squeals. "Yay!" she says. She tries to grab Annabeth's hand and gets a fistful of her shirt instead, but is quite unbothered, using it to drag her along. "Let's go!"

"I'm never coming out with you ever again," Annabeth tells Rachel.

"Most of the time going out doesn't involve shots," Rachel says, but she has the decency to look a bit sheepish.

They both reluctantly allow themselves to be dragged backstage. The band members are all packing away their instruments, completely drenched in sweat, but still in their leather jackets, like it's a second skin. They all look a bit confused at the three girls, until Piper drunkenly shouts, "LEO!" and the dark-skinned drummer steps forward and wraps her in a hug. She giggles as he lifts her off the ground, and tries to wrap her legs around his waist, until he sets her back on the floor before she can.

"I'm so glad you came!"

"You were – hic – amazing!" Piper shouts, and Annabeth winces. Clearly drunken Piper has no perception of appropriate noise levels. Or personal space, either, apparently, as she quickly finds out, when she stumbles backwards and latches onto Annabeth's side, affectionately rubbing her tummy through her T-shirt. "Look! I've brought my girlfriends!"

"Friends," Annabeth corrects, removing Piper's hand from where it's travelling up to her boobs. "Just friends."

One of the band members smirks. He's very handsome, with glittering green eyes, and shaggy black hair, and despite all his hard edges, in his ripped jeans and leather jacket and combat boots, he's got a boyish sort of charm to him, like the sparkle in his eyes. He would have been attractive, had he not been almost leering at Annabeth and Piper, in a way that makes her feel a bit uncomfortable. "You sure about that, princess?"

Annabeth gives him a hard look. "I'm sure."

"Shame," he says. He gives them one final once-over. "You'd be super hot making out."

Annabeth scowls at him, and throws an arm around Piper protectively. Obliviously, she snuggles closer, prying hands dipping inside her denim jacket and hugging her around her waist. "You're such a creep."

"Yeah, just leave it, Jackson," Piper's friend Leo says. He gives Annabeth a half apologetic smile. "I'm glad you guys liked the set, though."

Annabeth wants to smile back at him, but there's something in the way the boy is staring at her that instead makes her set her jaw and say, "Yeah, I wasn't a big fan."

That kills his smirk almost immediately. He stares at her.

Annabeth continues. "I thought the drums were really good," she says. "You're very talented. I'm just not a big rock fan, I guess."

The boy is staring at her with an indecipherable look on his face. Annabeth wants to smirk at him, but she doesn't.

"Well, fair enough," Leo says. "We're not for everyone." He holds out his hand. "Leo."

"Annabeth."

"Oh, Piper's told me a lot about you." They both glance at her. She's disentangled herself from Annabeth and is now happily draping herself over the end of a sofa, kicking her feet and giggling. "Is– she all right?"

"There's a reason we don't really let her drink," Annabeth says. At that moment, Piper lets out a particularly spectacular hiccup, and squeals with laughter. "She can be a bit of a handful when intoxicated."

"You don't say."

"Raaacheeelllll!" Piper cries giddily. "Look, I'm flying!"

Rachel pinches the bridge of her nose. "Can we leave now?" she says to Annabeth.

"Just satiate her a little," Annabeth says. "I think I need to get some air, anyway, I'm so hot I could explode."

"Rachel!"

"For God's sake," Rachel mutters. "I'm never letting her near alcohol ever again." With a sigh, she pastes a smile on her face and turns around, heading over to where Piper is sat. "Hey, Pipes, how you feeling?"

Piper beams. "I'm amazing! I feel all happy and sparkly!" She lets out an obnoxious whoop. "Yay, shots!"

"Inside voice, hon."

Annabeth smiles fondly at the two of them, and then flaps the collar of her shirt. She didn't realise how hot she was until now, when she's standing still with no cold beverage to cool her down, and she can only imagine how wrecked her makeup is going to be. It's probably all melted down her face.

"I'm just going to step outside," she tells Rachel. "I'll only be a minute."

"When you come inside, we'll go," Rachel says. "Sound like a plan, Piper?"

"I love plans!"

"I know you do, babe. Stop shouting, please."

"I'll be quick," Annabeth promises. She turns to Leo, who points at a side-door, and she gratefully nods at him and pushes it open, stepping through it. It must be a back entrance of sorts, because it reveals a set of stone steps and then an alleyway she thinks they might have passed on their way in. The air is chilly, but she revels in it, peeling her damp curls off her neck and holding them up so her neck can cool down. She takes a seat on the steps, feeling the cold seep through her thighs.

Behind her, she hears the door open, but she doesn't look. Moments later, the boy from before appears next to her on the steps, cigarette in hand.

They both don't speak for a while.

Eventually, the boy takes a long, deep drag of his cigarette and exhales smoke into the night sky. "Percy."

She frowns. "What?"

"That's my name. Percy."

"Oh." She turns her feet in slightly. "Cool."

He flicks his cigarette. "Did you mean what you said?"

"About what?"

"Not liking rock music."

"Oh." She swings her legs, a little chilly in the cold air. She should have worn something warmer than a miniskirt. "Yeah. It's not really my thing."

He stares at her in disbelief.

Slightly self-consciously, she asks, "What?"

"You're serious?"

"Well, yeah."

"What do you listen to, then? Literally all the top hits are rock songs."

"I don't really listen to music at all."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Not even in the car? Do you even listen to the radio?"

She almost laughs. "Why is it such a big deal?"

The boy flails. "Music is– music is incredible! And you're saying you just don't listen to it?"

"I just don't have the time. It's not that big of a deal."

"Why'd you come here tonight, then?"

The question almost catches her off guard. "Huh?"

"Why'd you come? You're stone-cold sober and you don't like music. Why are you here?"

Annabeth sighs. "Rachel and Piper brought me here."

"Handsy and Handsier?"

"Don't talk about them like that."

"Your brown-haired friend was practically molesting the sofa when I last saw her. Not to mention how she was over you."

"She's just affectionate."

"You sure you aren't gay?"

"No."

"Don't get offended, it was just a question."

"You told us we'd be hot making out, and then called them names. You've objectified us enough tonight."

"Don't girls like that?"

"What, being viewed as nothing more than sex objects? Yeah, of course, what a turn on."

"If you didn't want me to mention it you should probably dress like your prude beliefs."

Annabeth sets her jaw. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that."

"You're telling me you're going to walk around with pins like that out and then expect me not to say anything? You're smokin', princess."

Well, she's never wearing this skirt ever again. "Just stop talking, okay."

He must realise he's crossed a line, because he just sighs and takes another drag of his cigarette, flicking the ash onto the street below them. Annabeth watches him as he inhales, his long fingers curled around the cigarette like it's a pencil. He's got a softness to his face that's almost beautiful to look at, and then you see his fingers, calloused and bloody and stained yellow with nicotine, and the way he holds himself, and Annabeth thinks maybe he's lived too many lifetimes in pain.

She stares down at the toes of her sneakers.

"Look," Percy says, after a long pause. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah."

"I– I didn't mean to upset you."

"I'm not upset."

"Yes, you are. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"Next time don't tell a girl that because she refuses to put out with her best friend she shouldn't wear skirts."

Percy sighs. "Now that you put it like that it does seem like a dick move."

Annabeth snorts.

He pauses, and then looks at her. She stubbornly stares out into the darkness of the city in front of her.

"I like your hair?" he tries.

"That's not going to work."

"I do," he insists.

She just rolls her eyes and shoves a hand through it. "Thanks," she says, "but you don't, really. The humidity of that bar has killed it."

"Was my stage presence making you all hot and flustered?"

"There you go again."

Percy sighs. "Sorry. It's just– instinct."

"Hard to shut off the powerful engine of a boy's sex drive."

"You could say that."

She rolls her eyes, and pushes herself up to her feet. It's late and it's getting very dark, and Annabeth knows she needs to be leaving. The alcohol is going to fade off Piper any minute now and Annabeth wants there to be a toilet around when it does. "Next time, try to suppress it. I'll tell you not many girls find that very sexy."

Percy frowns. "Wait, where are you going? I said I was sorry."

"Back inside. I should probably be heading off."

"Is this because of what I said?"

"Not everything revolves around you."

"So it is."

"No, it's not. It's late. The buses will stop running soon."

Something crosses his face. "Oh."

"Yeah." She isn't sure what to say to him. Nice to meet you? See you later? Instead, she opts for an awkward shoulder lift. "Uh. Well. Bye?"

Percy blows out more smoke. "Bye."

She turns back inside before she can say anything else, leaving Percy sitting on the steps staring out at the night. The band has most of their stuff packed away in flight-cases by now, and they're sitting on top of them, sipping beer, and talking amongst themselves. Leo catches sight of her and gives her a smile, raising his can, and she smiles back at him as she passes.

Rachel and Piper are still on the sofa, but thank goodness Piper appears to have sobered a little. She's leaning against Rachel's shoulder, sleepily drinking a bottle of water, and Rachel is rubbing her back. When she sees her, she straightens. "Annabeth," she says. "You ready to go?"

"Yep," Annabeth says. "Piper, you okay to stand?"

"I think so," Piper says, but when she tries she almost face-plants directly onto her face. They catch her just in time. "Okay, maybe not." She giggles a little. "I think I'm drunk."

"You think?" Annabeth says.

"Enjoy it while it lasts," Rachel mutters through gritted teeth, "because we are never, ever letting you get drunk ever again." She slings Piper's arm around her neck, and then puts an arm around her waist. "Beth, there's ten dollars in my back pocket. Can you get that out for me? It should be enough for us to get the bus back home."

"Sure," Annabeth says, and together, they go home, and she doesn't think of Percy and his pretty green eyes for the rest of the night.

Annabeth sees Percy again a week later.

She's walking home with the groceries under one arm, humming absently to herself, when suddenly she hears a, "Hey!" from behind her, and she whips around, to see none other than Percy himself jogging up to her, in a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. He's not wearing his leather jacket and he looks younger without it – softer, almost. His hair is a rat's nest but his green eyes are still sparkling, and all in all he's still as unfairly attractive as he was one week ago.

"Percy!" she says, the surprise evident in her voice. "I–I didn't expect to see you around so soon." She pauses. "Or. Ever, really."

He grins at her, and she kicks herself with the way her stomach flips. "You think I'd forget a face as pretty as yours?" he says. Then his expression turns almost bashful. "Also, um. I had some unfinished business, I guess."

Annabeth quirks an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Percy pulls something out of his pocket. "Here," he says. "For you."

"Really?"

"I wanted to say I'm sorry. For what I said to you at the concert."

She looks down at it. "What is it?"

"A mixtape," he tells her earnestly. It's kind of cute. "I made it for you yesterday. It took me hours, because the radio station wasn't playing any of them, and I had to wait, and I only caught the end half of Jessie's Girl, but– you said that you didn't really listen to rock music. Or any music for that matter. So I wanted to introduce you to the hits."

Tentatively, Annabeth takes the cassette from him. She turns it in her hands. Frankly, she's flattered. She had a boy in high school make her mixtape, but it was mostly comprised of the last few seconds of about six Beatles songs, with the DJ talking over the end, from his horrific timing with recording, but that was high school, and this is now, and an attractive boy spent hours recording his favourite songs so she could listen to them. She feels her heartbeat quicken.

"Thank you," she says, and then looks up at him. "I– I'll have a listen."

"I hope you like it," he says, and suddenly he's so bashfully genuine that Annabeth kind of wants to kiss him. "I know you said you didn't like rock music, and most of it is– literally just rock songs, but I thought–"

"Percy," Annabeth says, and Percy falls silent. "I'll listen to all of it. I promise."

"Okay," Percy says. "Cool. Thank you."

There's a slightly awkward pause.

"I, um," he says. "Better be going."

"Okay," she says.

He nods at her, and then starts walking away. However, just as she's staring at the eagle on the back of his denim jacket, a thought hits her, and she suddenly says, "Hey, Percy?"

He turns around. "Yeah?"

She waves the cassette. "Did you put any of your stuff on here?"

A smirk spreads across his face. "No."

"Good," she says.

"Why?"

"I don't like you guys."

Percy barks out a surprised laugh.

"I'm not kidding," she says.

"You're really something, Annabeth Chase."

"I get that a lot."

He gives her one last appraising look, and then winks. "I'll see you later. Enjoy the tape."

"I will."

"Can I play something?" Annabeth asks.

Piper looks over her shoulder. "Sure, hon. You might want to take out my Whitney cassette, though, I've still got that rammed in there."

"About damn time you removed it," Rachel says. "If I have to listen to Dance With Somebody one more time I might kill myself."

"Hey," Piper chides. "Whitney Houston is good."

Whilst they argue amongst themselves, Annabeth ejects Piper's Whitney tape, and then slides Percy's mixtape into the slot instead.

"What are you playing, anyway?" Piper asks, as she starts backing out of her driveway. "I thought you weren't a big music person."

"I'm not," Annabeth says. She hesitates, and then says, slightly shyly, "Percy made me a mixtape."

"Concert Percy?" Rachel asks. When Annabeth nods, she squeals. "Yes, Annabeth!"

"That's so sweet," Piper says.

"Well, we'll see about that," Annabeth says. "If all these songs are loud screaming anthems about sex I'm severing any and all ties I have with him."

"Oh, give it a rest, you prude," Rachel says, slapping at her thigh lightly, "and play the damn thing."

Annabeth rolls her eyes and presses play.

Immediately, a loud, thumpy piano starts playing. Annabeth is mildly surprised, having expected wailing electric guitars almost immediately, but she settles back in her seat as the song progresses. Rachel gasps.

"I know this song!" she says. "I heard it on the radio last week! It's Don't Stop Believing!"

"That's a terrible name," Annabeth says.

"Oh, Annabeth, you'll love this song. Percy has good taste."

Annabeth doesn't argue with her. So far, it doesn't sound all that bad. From the music Percy's band had played, she had mainly expected a lot of loud guitars and drums, but so far all that's been played is a piano, which she doesn't mind so much, because Piper plays the piano, and she likes the sound of that. She leans back in her seat and closes her eyes, letting the music wash over her. Someone starts singing over the top, an unfamiliar male voice she doesn't recognise, but she kind of likes it. In fact, when an electric guitar riff starts over the top of the piano, she doesn't even make a move to switch it off.

She never thought she'd like rock music – but this is turning out nicely.

The song ends abruptly, in the middle of a word, and the next starts almost immediately, but she finds that she doesn't even mind. This next song is more of what she expected from Percy, with a loud electric guitar riff, and the vocals are a high-pitched whiny male voice, but it's just so almost cheerful sounding, and just so Percy, that Annabeth can't find herself to switch it off.

She keeps reminding herself that he picked out these songs for her. That he sat down in front of his boombox and put in a blank cassette, with her in mind, with her and her musical preferences, or lack thereof, at the forefront of his mind, and he stayed there for hours, switching between stations, waiting for his favourite songs to play so he could share them with her.

"You all right there, Annie?" Piper teases, as she turns a corner.

"Yeah," Annabeth says. "I like this."

"I'm so glad," Rachel says earnestly, as she lights her cigarette. "Now whenever I play my Queen records you can't tell me to switch them off."

"Is this Queen?"

Rachel laughs, and blows her smoke out the window. "No, honey. This is AC/DC. But I'll bet my ass Percy put Queen on this."

"We've got a while, anyway," Piper says. "This drive is going to take a while. If your mixtape finishes by then I recently bought a Madonna tape that I've been dying to listen to with my waitressing money–"

"Oh, shut up about Madonna," Rachel says good-naturedly. "Annabeth is having an experience."

This song is significantly shorter, although that may be because it ends in middle of the second chorus, and the next starts in the middle of a radio DJ's voiceover.

"–Joel," the voice says. "Here we go."

Rachel shakes her head. "Billy Joel," she says. "Of course Concert Percy likes Billy Joel."

"Is Billy Joel bad?" Annabeth asks.

"No. He's just got that sappy, inspiring story, that appeals to every musician." At Annabeth's disbelieving expression, she holds out her hands, almost singeing the ceiling with her cigarette. "I saw him live last year. He's good."

They fall silent as they listen to the beginning of the song. It's not as loud and aggressive as the last song, which Annabeth kind of likes. Piper takes a right and suddenly they're slowly cruising down a pretty street, with lampposts fringing every sidewalk, and pedestrians like sirens in their neon knee-socks and fanny packs slung around their waists. Annabeth watches a group of teenage girls saunter across the street, in mini-skirts, with their hair teased so large they look like they have skunks coming out of their banana clips, and she almost smiles. She was like that in high school. Having naturally curly hair gave her the advantage. Even Drew Tanaka couldn't get her hair as big as Annabeth's.

Now she prefers to keep it back with headbands and scrunchies.

Vaguely, she's aware of the song changing again, into something that has Rachel wriggling up and down in her seat in mild excitement. She takes a long drag of her cigarette and then waves her hands, and then exhales so the smoke comes out of her nostrils a little, and normally Annabeth would rag on her for smoking in the car, because she hates the way it smells, but she's having so much she just doesn't even care.

"Even I don't mind this," Piper remarks. She gives Annabeth a cheeky side-smile. "Did he really make this for you?"

Annabeth pointedly doesn't look at her. "Yes."

"That must have taken hours," Rachel remarks dryly, taking another drag. "Piano Man was released, like, ten years ago. He must have been waiting ages for it to play. It's a miracle it even played, to be completely honest."

Annabeth's heart kickstarts to life with a splutter, and she has to fight to keep the blush off her face. "Really?"

"Really," Rachel says. She blows out a cloud of smoke.

"Hey," Piper chides. "Not in the car."

Rachel rolls her eyes, but unwinds her window and blows the rest into the bright sunshine. "I'm serious," she says. "Billy's only had, like, one hit in the 80s, and that was Uptown Girl, which I'm highly suspecting is going to wind up on here eventually. But Piano Man? He must have had serious faith."

"What do you mean?"

"It's over ten years old, Beth. The chances that the radio is going to play it is very small. Percy must have been prepared to stay up all night for a song that was only probably going to play."

"Oh." Annabeth can't help the blush this time. "That's– really nice of him."

"Are you two dating?" Piper asks.

Annabeth splutters. "Absolutely not!"

"Have you had sex with him, then," Rachel says. "You must have at least had sex with him."

Annabeth remains quiet.

Piper almost screeches. "You have? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't have sex with him," Annabeth says. "I haven't even– God, I haven't even held his hand."

"With guys like Concert Percy, that wouldn't even be in the equation," Rachel says. "Trust me, hand-holding comes after the sex."

"We haven't done anything," Annabeth says.

"Well, he clearly likes you a lot," Piper says. "He put a lot of effort into this. You don't do that for just anyone."

"He said it was an apology," Annabeth says.

"Apology my ass," Rachel says. "He wants to get to third base."

"Not everything is about sex, Rachel," Annabeth says, slightly annoyed.

"As far as Concert Percy, yes, it is."

"Sorry. It's just– instinct."

"Hard to shut off the powerful engine of a boy's sex drive."

"You could say that."

Annabeth purses her lips. "Whatever," she says, trying to keep the sourness out of her voice. "It's not as if I actually like him."

"Sure," Rachel trills.

"He definitely likes you, in any case," Piper says.

"Yeah, and for what? One round of sex?"

"It could be romantic," Rachel offers.

"Yeah, when pigs fly." Annabeth pushes her hair behind her ears. "It doesn't even matter. It's just a dumb mixtape, anyway."

Piper watches her with soft eyes. "Do you want to stop listening?"

Annabeth almost says yes. But now another piano song has begun, and Annabeth can see Rachel begin to wriggling in her seat, and she shakes her head. "It's okay," she says. "We can keep playing it."

"Now this is Queen," Rachel says. "Arguably one of their best songs. Released ten years ago, but still has radio play now. Fantastic song."

"But you said the other one released ten years ago didn't get played much," Annabeth says, confused.

Rachel takes another drag and exhales cheerfully. "Well, Piano Man was crap," she says. "Don't Stop Me Now is in another league of its own."

"I liked Piano Man," Annabeth says.

"And that's totally fine. We're all entitled to our own opinions. But Don't Stop Me Now is just– it's a classic. Your boy has taste, Bethie. I'm impressed you managed to scoop him up, considering how much you hated their set."

"Clearly it was her superior music taste," Piper jokes.

"Clearly," Rachel says. She blows out a stream of smoke and winks at Annabeth. "Careful, Beth. If you don't want him I might just snatch him off you."

Annabeth feels something ugly and territorial rear its head in her stomach. "You keep your hands off, Dare. He's mine."

Rachel raises her hands. "You can keep him. But what happened to it's not as if I actually like him? And don't you dare say the music changed you, or God help me I will push you out this car."

Annabeth just smirks, and pushes her sunglasses up her nose. "What can I say? Queen has that effect on me."

Piper bursts out laughing. Rachel just squawks indignantly, and says something like, "Two minutes ago you didn't even know who Queen were!", and Annabeth just rolls her eyes and looks out the car window, winding it open, feeling the wind on her face and through her hair, and listening to the song as the music dances through the air.

They go to another bar concert.

Annabeth is insistent that she won't enjoy herself, because she never enjoys herself at these kind of things, but unfortunately Piper and Rachel aren't so easy to fend off this time. She reckons it's the Percy thing – after all, they are going to see Percy's band again ("I don't even like his music!"), and even though she insisted she didn't have fun at the last one (she tried to make the point that in his "natural habitat", as Piper had gruesomely called it, he had been a right wanker, and it was in fact outside of the band environment where he'd been sweet and endearing, but they had none of it), they had got into their heads that because Annabeth had found someone nice at a bar concert they might, too.

("Like I said, he wasn't nice at the bar–"

"Shut up, Annabeth.")

So now they're all dressed up to the nines and clumsily moshing on the bar floor. Or rather, Piper and Rachel are clumsily moshing on the bar floor. Annabeth is back to where she was before – at the bar, sipping a Coke. It's warm and gone slightly flat, but it's something to do other than openly gawk at Percy, whose shirt has gone almost see-through with sweat, so she keeps drinking.

Piper materialises next to her after the second song. She seems moderately sober this time, which is nice, but her makeup has streaked a little and she has a stain on her sneakers that Annabeth only prays is beer and not piss. "Hey!" she says, slightly breathlessly. "Why are you sitting back here all by yourself?"

"Can I get you anything, miss?" the bartender asks politely.

"She'll have a water," Annabeth says.

The bartender turns away. Piper raises an eyebrow. "What if I wanted something alcoholic?"

"After last time? You're having a laugh." A glass of water gets pushed across the counter, and Piper sulkily cups it in her hands, gently swirling the ice cubes around in it. "As for your question, I just didn't feel like dancing."

"You never feel like dancing, though."

"That's 'cause this isn't really my scene, Piper. You know that."

"I know." Piper drops her head onto Annabeth's shoulder. They both watch as the crowd swarms and seethes, taking Rachel with it. She's got a glass of something in her hand and her long red hair has come out of its ponytail, but Rachel is generally a safe drinker and she's quite a sensible drunk, so Annabeth doesn't worry. "Percy hasn't taken his eyes off you, by the way."

"What?" Annabeth glances upwards, and catches Percy's gaze across the room. He's got one foot braced on an amp, his guitar tight in his hands, his hair wet with sweat, and when he sees her looking, he winks. Annabeth rolls her eyes as she looks away from him, trying to fight the blush. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I saw that."

"We just exchanged looks."

"I wish my exchanged looks were that sexy," Piper says mournfully, taking a sip of her water. "Are you going to see him afterwards?"

"I think so. It'll be nice to say hi."

Piper hums. "Are– are you going to stay the night?"

"With Percy?"

She nods.

"No."

"You should."

"I don't want to."

"You like him."

Annabeth sighs. "Is that bad?"

"Not really. He seems nice. And he's mighty fine, too, which doesn't hurt."

Annabeth laughs softly. "Yeah."

They sit quietly for a while, sipping their respective drinks.

Then Piper sits up and puts her glass on the counter, and holds out her hand. "Come on," she says.

Annabeth sighs. "I'm not dancing."

"Just one dance. Then we'll leave you alone forever."

She hesitates. Subconsciously, her eyes flick to Percy, who's not looking at her, but is grinning at the blond bassist on his side. Then she looks back at Piper, who's giving her those imploring, puppy-eyes that she knows Annabeth can't resist.

Finally, she sighs, and takes Piper's hand. "Fine," she says. "But only one dance."

Piper grins. "Come on."

She drags her to the dancefloor. When Rachel spots them, she shrieks with excitement, and presses a kiss to Annabeth's cheek. "Annabeth!" she cheers. "How nice of you to join us!"

"Yeah, yeah," Annabeth says. "It was blackmail."

"It was nothing of the sort," Piper says. "She was perfectly willing."

"Half willing."

"Same thing." The song begins to pick up speed. "Now, come on! Loosen up!" Piper holds her hands up above her head and starts to move – her body fluid and in time with the music. Annabeth doesn't think she's ever moved like that before. Rachel must notice her awkwardness, because she takes her hands and starts moving with her.

"I look stupid," Annabeth says.

"Everyone looks stupid," Rachel consoles. "It's just about losing your inhibitions."

It gets easier after that. Someone comes around with a tray full of tiny purple shot glasses filled with tequila, and Annabeth has a couple, which dissipates the last of her hesitation. There's a slight hiccup in the night when Piper tries to take one but Rachel and Annabeth bodily wrestle her in between them with each of them gripping a wrist so she can't, but it gets smoothed over when the band start a song that is only slightly more bearable than the others because of its danceable beat that she quickly loses herself in. It's nice, to dance like this. She hasn't felt this carefree for a while, especially in public, in such a short skirt. She feels loose, free.

The night ends far too quickly for Annabeth's liking. In fact, when Percy announces their last song, Annabeth almost feels disappointed, something she very readily squashes flat when she realises. Still, she decides to make the most of it, and takes both Piper's hands in hers and spins her around. Piper laughs, delighted, and when Annabeth glances upwards she catches Percy's eye, and he grins at her, and her stomach is flooded with butterflies.

Afterwards, they go to see the band backstage again. Piper, a lot more sober and respectable this time, properly introduces them to the rest of the band, and they all politely and nod and smile at her, like yesterday they didn't see her sloppy and bent over the arm of the sofa pretending to fly. The bassist is called Jason and the other guitarist is called Nico, and they're all very lovely, modestly accepting the compliments and offering to buy everyone drinks. Piper glues herself in between Jason and Leo and Rachel starts chatting to Nico, leaving Percy and Annabeth.

Percy catches her eye and grins. "Wanna step outside?"

They go out the back door again, and perch on the steps. It's the same as last time except this time Percy's wearing a different-coloured shirt and Annabeth isn't counting down the seconds until she gets to leave.

"Did my eyes deceive me, or did I see you enjoying yourself?" Percy teases.

She rolls her eyes. "Just because I listened to a few songs does not mean I enjoy listening to a bunch of over-emotional boys scream into microphones for twenty minutes."

"Whatever you say." Percy plops himself down on the step, pulling a cigarette out of the pocket of his jacket. He nods at the space next to him, and Annabeth takes it gratefully, stretching her legs out. In the darkness, they're glowing white. She really needs to stop wearing shorts. "So, did you like it?"

"Like what?"

Annabeth thinks he blushes. "The mixtape."

"Oh." She thinks. "Yeah. I actually did."

"Really?"

"I liked Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go."

"Of course that's the song you like."

"I didn't expect a guy like you to listen to Wham!."

"Do you even know who Wham! are?"

"Not really. Rachel kind of educated me. They don't sound like your speed, though."

"It's a guilty pleasure of sorts." He gives her a funny sideways look. "Any other favourites?"

"Don't Stop Believing. I liked all the Queen and the Billy Joel, too. But I didn't like the AC/DC. Or the Walk This Way song. They screamed too much."

"Fair enough." Percy flicks his cigarette. "Thoughts on Bon Jovi?"

"Which one were they?"

Percy hums a bit of a song.

"Oh, that one. I liked the chorus of it. Everything else was too– guitar-y, for me."

Percy rolls his eyes fondly. "Well, I managed to get you to listen to it. I suppose you can't like it all."

"Were these all your favourites?"

"I had more, but they didn't play them on the radio, and I couldn't find any of my Beatles tapes, so they didn't make the cut."

"I've listened to the Beatles before."

"I'd be worried if you hadn't. Everyone and their ma has listened to The Beatles before. Even my ma has."

Annabeth laughs softly, turning her feet inward slightly. "Your ma a music fan?"

"Kind of. She doesn't like any of my stuff."

"I don't either."

"Well, it's an acquired taste, I guess." Percy thoughtfully blows out cigarette smoke. "I'm glad you liked some of the mixtape, at least."

Annabeth watches the smoke dissolve into the night sky. "Did you mean it?"

"Mean what?"

"About what you said. About the mixtape taking hours."

Percy laughs softly. "Of course I meant it. I'd have to be the luckiest kid in the world if they played all of those songs one after the other."

"Did you just sit there?"

"Nah. I was actually at my ma's, helping her with some darning."

Annabeth can't help herself. "Sewing?"

"You think I can't sew?"

"Not that you can't. You just don't look like you would."

"Everyone has a secret side."

"Yeah, about– sex, or liking girls, or taking psychedelics. Not sewing and Wham!."

Percy turns to look at her. In the darkness, with nothing but the faint bulb above their heads, the street lamps, and the lit end of Percy's cigarette to provide light, he's never been more attractive, the soft boyishness of his face opening up in the shadows. "Why? What's yours?"

"My what?"

"Secret side. Don't tell me yours is liking girls and taking psychedelics."

"I don't have a secret side."

"Not even liking girls and taking pyschedelics?"

"I don't do either of those things. I just– don't have one."

"I find that hard to believe."

"I'm pretty boring, Percy. I just read and go to college. I don't like drinking or swearing and I tried to perm my hair once and it was the worst thing I've ever done, and I've only ever had one cigarette. And I didn't even finish it. I took one drag and almost coughed up a lung, so I gave it to Rachel."

"You? Boring? Never."

The thing is, he doesn't even sound sarcastic. Annabeth sighs a little. "I really am. I– I'm not sure if you've realised, but this isn't really my scene, you know? I don't normally do things like this."

"Like what? Go to concerts and chat up guitarists?"

Annabeth fights a blush, and instead rolls her eyes. "I'm not chatting up any guitarists."

"You're chatting up me."

"I'd like to think you're chatting up me. You made me a mixtape."

"Which you enjoyed."

"That has nothing to do with me actually liking you."

Percy whistles, but he's got a playful curve to his mouth when he turns and looks back up at the sky. "You cut me deep, Annabeth Chase."

She snorts.

They sit there in comfortable silence for a while, content to just bask in the faint New York soundscape. Annabeth can't help but watch the way Percy's jaw moves as he inhales his cigarette, and then exhales it, his breath like stardust. She reckons she could get poetic, if she was that kind of person. It feels poetic, in a dirty, back-alley kind of way. Piper's poetry is beautiful and soft, and it's about delicate hands, and pale pink skies, but Annabeth thinks she can see beautiful and soft in Percy, who's yellow fingertips and midnight smog. He's rough, in his leather jacket and his electric guitar and his loud music, but he's gentle, because his eyes sparkle when he's happy, and he helps his mother with sewing, and he listens to Wham!, and he sits for hours in front of the radio to make Annabeth a mixtape.

He's truly beautiful.

"I can feel you staring, you know," Percy says, his voice low with amusement.

Annabeth doesn't even hide it. She just sighs and stretches out her legs, feels a sense of achievement when Percy's eyes momentarily flicker down to stare at them. "You're really something," she says.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Don't look at me that, it's not a pick-up. You just– you're not what I expected."

His eyes sparkle. "What did you expect, then?"

"I don't know. Just– definitely not you. Maybe a bit of a snob. Insistent on being John Travolta, or something. But– you sew. With your mother. And you listen to Wham!."

He laughs. "You're really not over that, are you?"

"There's just a lot more that meets the eye to you. Deep down you're actually– you're actually kind of sweet."

"Shh, don't blow my cover."

Annabeth laughs. "Your secret's safe with me. After all, how else will you reel in the ladies?"

"You got that right," Percy says. "This jacket's like a chick magnet. People come flocking."

"That's not true."

"It brought you here."

Annabeth's cheeks flame. "That's not why I'm here, though."

"Yeah." Percy thoughtfully blows out more smoke, a more soft smile on his face. "That's what makes you so special."

They sit in silence for a bit.

"I mean," Annabeth says hedgingly, "the jacket doesn't– hurt."

Percy doesn't look at her, but a grin stretches across his face. "Yeah?"

"It's not the reason why I talked to you, don't get me wrong. But– you don't look half bad in it."

Percy lets out a delighted laugh. "I knew it."

"Don't get your panties in a twist, it's the mixtape that's why I'm here."

"But the jacket helped, didn't it?"

Annabeth rolls her eyes, fighting the blush, and tries to sound nonchalant. "I mean. I guess."

"Music and the jacket. Huh." Percy stretches out his arms, his face lit up with glee. "Well, they are both things I excel at, so now I have the perfect lady trap."

"I mean, I wouldn't say you excel at music..."

She squeals with laughter when Percy digs her in the ribs. "You take that back!"

"I can't, I just really, really hate your music."

"You were having the time of your life out there."

Annabeth just smiles. "Maybe."

Percy huffs out a laugh, and takes another drag of his cigarette.

There's something he wants to say, but he's not saying it. Annabeth glances at him.

"What?" she asks.

"What what?"

"What do you want to ask me?"

"How do you know I want to ask you anything?"

Annabeth raises an eyebrow.

"Fine," he says. He exhales, and the smoke expands into the night like stardust. "You're allowed to say no."

"Are you prepositioning me?"

Percy laughs. "No." He hesitates. "Do– do you want to come to Santa Monica with me?"

Annabeth is not expecting that. "What?"

"I'm driving down there next week. I thought– well. You mentioned how you thought you were boring. And while it's a sentiment I heavily disagree with, I thought maybe I could show you a bit of life on the edge."

"Percy... I have– university, and my job, and–"

"It wouldn't be permanent," Percy hurries to say. "Only for a day." He scrubs a hand through his hair. "You're going to say no, aren't you? See, this is why I didn't want to ask."

"It's not a no." Annabeth watches the sky. "You hardly know me."

"I know that you hate music," he says with a grin.

"Correction: I hate your music."

"I know that you like my jacket. And how I made you a mixtape. And sometimes you like me."

She cracks a smile.

"That's enough for me." He takes another drag and looks straight ahead of him. His cheeks burn with a blush. "Besides, there's no one else I'd rather take."

Annabeth fights a smile, and stares up at the sky. "What about those flocks of women who come for the jacket?"

"They come for the jacket. Then they leave for me."

She can't help the snort that escapes her.

"That's not something you laugh at. You're meant to reassure me that no, I am a catch and those women are all deluded."

"Sorry, sorry. Shall we go again?"

"No need, my feelings have already been hurt."

Annabeth just rolls her eyes.

Percy glances at her. "So – is that a yes?"

Annabeth hums contemplatively. She considers it. Truth be told, she is boring. She doesn't do much except go to school and then go home. Rachel and Piper drag her to bars and to concerts and to raves, but she never enjoys herself. She owns and genuinely enjoys her jelly shoes and since leaving high school has never back-combed her hair, and she doesn't listen to music or go climb trees or watch movies, and now she's sitting in a back-alley with a rockstar smoking a cigarette, offering to take her to Santa Monica because he wants to show her how exciting life can be, outside of school and jelly shoes.

She wouldn't describe herself as 'spontaneous'. But she feels like sometimes, it's good to be.

"It's a yes," she says.

He glances at her. "Really?"

"Why not, right?"

He stares at her for a few more seconds, before he huffs out a laugh and takes another drag. "Yeah, why not."

They sit in silence for a bit while longer, content to just bask in each other's presence. However, when Annabeth hears voices from inside, the telltale sign that everyone has come back from the bar and is now gradually regrouping to leave, she knows she'd better start heading off.

She stands up, stretching her arms. Percy stands up with her. Together, they glow in the darkness. "I need to go," she says. "Um. I'll see you soon?"

Percy nods, flicking his cigarette. "I'll see you soon, Beth."

Annabeth watches him, and hesitates. Then, throwing all caution to the wind, she pushes up onto her toes and presses a kiss against his cheek. She steps backwards, her cheeks hot, and swallows. "Yeah," she says. "Um. Bye?"

Percy gives her a dopey, lopsided grin. "Bye."

"I have something to show you," Annabeth says as she slides into the car.

Percy raises his eyebrows. "Hello to you, too."

Annabeth leans forward and ejects the current tape from the slot. She glances at it – as unrecognisable and aggressive as always – and then rests it in his lap, instead sliding her own tape in.

Percy laughs, and starts pulling out of the driveway. "I thought you didn't listen to music."

"I don't," Annabeth says. "Well, I didn't. But you made me a mixtape, and that was very sweet, so I thought I'd return the favour."

"You made me a mixtape?"

"No. I found this at the back of my cupboard. I haven't listened to it in years but my mom used to love them, and I remember she used to play their vinyls all the time at home."

"Oh, I'm curious now. Who is it?"

Annabeth simply presses play.

Percy starts laughing as soon as the opening notes sound. "Oh my God, Annabeth."

"It's a good album!"

"Abba? Seriously?"

"I sat through an hour of all your crap, so I will be damned if you don't sit through an hour of mine. Not to mention I've been forced to listen to your own music a lot, too, and that's the worst thing you've shown me."

"One day I will get you into metal."

"Keep dreaming." She sighs happily and settles into her seat. She hasn't listened to this album for years, but as soon as the music starts she recognises every note. Pros of having it been played on repeat for most of her childhood. "God, I haven't heard this song in years."

"That's probably because it was a flop," Percy says, turning down onto the highway.

Annabeth sits up. "I'm sorry?"

"Listen, Beth, I'm all for expressing individuality through music, but When I Kissed The Teacher was a complete mess. It never even charted."

Annabeth frowns at him. "Music doesn't have to have charted for it to be good."

"That's not what I'm saying."

"Yes, it is." Annabeth leans forward and turns the music right onto full blast. "You know what, just because you said that, I am forbidding you to turn the music down until we have gone through this entire album twice."

Percy groans. "Oh, come on–"

"We have time. It's a seven-hour drive to Santa Monica. And I can assure you I am going to play this album a minimum of three times over."

"This is the equivalent of torture."

"So was having to sit through your set, but did I complain?"

"Several times."

"Whatever."

The song ends and a new one starts, and as soon as it does Percy drops his forehead onto the steering wheel as Annabeth squeals excitedly.

"Percy!"

"Annabeth, no, don't you dare–"

Annabeth bursts into full belt. "You can dance! You can jive! Having the time of your life!" She screws her eyes up. "Oo-oo-ooh!"

Percy laughs so hard Annabeth feels the car swerve slightly as his grip on the wheel trembles. "Annabeth–"

"See that girl!" she shouts. "Watch that scene! Digging the dancing queen!"

"Stop, I'm crying–"

Annabeth purposefully wails along to the melody in the background, just to hear Percy's squeaky laughter again. He doesn't disappoint – he laughs hysterically, his eyes welling with tears. Annabeth's noticed whenever he gets particularly worked up his laughter goes especially squeaky, and it's probably her favourite thing to listen to.

"You're so bad," he wheezes. "I can't–"

Annabeth takes it as motivation. When the verse comes around, she bellows it out as loudly as she can. She's not hitting a single note and her pitch is all over the place, although that's not unusual, because she's always been a nightmare when it comes to singing, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't putting it on even just a little just to hear Percy's dumb laugh again.

She glances to the side, and his eyes are screwed up, his mouth in a boyish beam. He's so beautiful like this. He has many different types of attractive, she notices – onstage, he's dirty and he's grungy and he's wild, and he wears his leather jacket and plays his guitar and fills the entire bar with reverb that's only slightly out of tune to make him cool, and then outside, on the steps, he has his cigarettes, and he smells of sweat and metal, and he's unintentionally insensitive, and flirts with her and gives her crooked grins. And then there's him now, in the sunshine, the boy with the sparkly eyes who sits for hours to make her a mixtape, and sews with his mom, and listens to dumb cheesy boybands, and has a stupid squeaky laugh that she's fallen in love with.

She likes every aspect of him. Rockstar Percy and Nighttime Percy are sexy and mysterious, but Happy Percy is adorable and she loves the way his eyes light up when he laughs and the smile that hasn't faded since she climbed into the car.

The song ends, and Annabeth bows as much as she can sitting down. Percy is shaking his head, but he's grinning. "You're ridiculous," he says.

"Thank you."

"I have never seen this side of you before."

"It only gets unleashed when Abba is on."

"That's a shame. I liked this side of you."

"Well, luckily for you, you're going to be hearing this song about six more times, so prepare to be serenaded over and over again."

Percy laughs again. "I'll be looking forward to it."

Annabeth is so happy she feels like she could burst. But alas, all good things must come to an end.

It starts as a feeling unfurling in her gut. She brushes it off as carsickness, or maybe guilt for stealing Rachel's hairbrush again, but it doesn't go away. When she and Percy settle into comfortable silence, she leans her head against the window, an arm curled around her stomach.

Probably indigestion. Or cramps. Or something.

It doesn't go away. Instead, it only gets worse.

Percy turns the car onto the freeway, and suddenly they're speeding. They were on the freeway before, maybe only ten minutes ago, and Annabeth had opened all the windows in the car and felt the wind rush through her hair as the car accelerated forwards, but now she feels tight and twisty, like something is going to go wrong. She feels wound up, like a spring, waiting for the moment where she explodes.

It comes maybe five minutes later. They're going fast – too fast. Annabeth isn't one to comment on reckless driving, because she helped Piper learn to drive, after all, and at the beginning Piper was a menace, and they're only a couple of units above the limit, but there's a lump in her throat that tells Annabeth that she needs Percy to slow down.

She opens her mouth.

And then suddenly she spots movement out of the corner of her eye. She turns around, her elbow on the back of her seat, and when she sees it her mouth goes dry. "Percy, watch out–!"

It's too late. The truck hits them side-on and for a split second all she can hear is the sound of crunching metal and bone, and then she feels a flash of pain so excruciating her whole body goes numb.

Everything goes black.

It's 2015, and Annabeth thinks she's about to fall asleep.

"Martha is coming around with a copy of the Nazi national anthem at the time," Mr Brunner says, and Annabeth jerks awake slightly as a sheet of paper gets slid in front of her. "The original is, of course, in German, but there is a translation on the right. For your homework, I want you to go home and research the history of this song!"

Annabeth suppresses a yawn, and stares unseeingly at the sheet in front of her. She didn't get anywhere close to the right amount of sleep last night, which has effectively killed her concentration, and is making it increasingly difficult to stay awake. She had stayed up all night trying to get this bloody English essay down pat, and then, come third period, when she had expected to hand in, she had discovered that it was actually due next week Wednesday, and she had almost put her head through a wall.

Tiredly, she stares at the words on the page. Millions are looking upon the swastika full of hope / The day of freedom and of bread dawns! She blinks once, and almost nods off right there. God, she's so tired. She just needs to find Piper for lunch, curl up against her shoulder, and fall asleep there and then. Piper will understand. Piper will get it. And, most importantly, Piper will have food.

Distantly, she hears Mr Brunner call someone's name, but it's not hers, so she decides not to care. Instead, she just sleepily observes the top of her desk, and considers the pros and cons and falling asleep right now. Mr Brunner likes her, and normally she's a perfect student. He probably won't give her detention, right?

"Annabeth?" someone hisses, and she almost ignores it, until somewhere in her brain she thinks oh, my name, and looks up. It's Rachel. "Do you know what we're doing?"

"I think we're just reading this song," Annabeth says. She looks at the title. "I'm not even going to try pronounce it."

"Horst-Wessel-Lied," Rachel says. Annabeth would be surprised, but forcing her muscles into a surprised look requires effort and she's barely running on enough caffeine to keep her vertical, let alone pull caricatural faces. "I took German back at my old school."

"Are you fluent?"

"Of course not, as if I paid attention. Besides, we have the translation here, so it's not like I need to be anyway. Do we just read it, or do we analyse it?"

"He said something about learning its history," Annabeth says.

"Sounds riveting, as always," Rachel says. She frowns at Mr Brunner's desk. "Hey, who's that?"

Annabeth turns her head, and sees the back of a student standing in front of Mr Brunner. She can't gage a height, because Mr Brunner is in his wheelchair, and Annabeth's brain is nowhere near the right comprehensive state to be able to recall where he comes up to when she's next to him, but all she can see is a dark blue hoodie, black jeans, and a mop of untidy black hair. He's lithe and slim. She doesn't recognise him.

Then again, she had walked past her own reflection this morning and there had been two terrifying seconds where she couldn't remember what she looked like, so he could be her best friend for all her sleep-deprived mind cares.

"I think he's new," Rachel says, which at least soothes Annabeth a little. "I haven't seen him around before."

"Do you know his name?"

"No," Rachel says. "But he looks like a Jack to me. Or a Will. Something gangly."

"Neither of those are gangly names."

"I don't really know what a name has to require in order for it to be gangly, to be honest. But he looks like he'd fit a name like that."

Annabeth resists the urge to roll her eyes. She's too tired for a conversation of this intellect level. "Yeah."

"I wonder if he's cute."

She's really not up for this. "It doesn't matter. Now, come on, we need to do this sheet."

"Oh, come on, Annabeth. Would you rather discuss the sheer animal attraction between me and this new boy–"

"Whose face you've never seen?"

"–or analyse some waffly Nazi song and take a deep, retrospective contemplation into the meaning behind every lyric that isn't Hitler liked tooting his own horn too much and wanted to take over the world?"

Dear God, she's going to get a headache. Don't get her wrong – she thinks Rachel's great. She's one of the few people who's up to Annabeth's intellectual speed and is someone she can always rely on to have a fascinating, intelligent conversation with – but when Annabeth is half-asleep and dangerously close to poking her own eyes out with her pencil she can barely process The Cat In The Hat, let alone a sentence over ten words long with too many syllables in it.

"Is neither an option?" she says.

Rachel gawks at her. "In what world is Annabeth Chase not up for discussing cute boys?"

Annabeth pauses. "Uh, this one? Besides, you don't even know if he's cute. You literally haven't even seen his face."

"Jack is a cute name," Rachel insists.

"That's not his name."

"It could be."

For God's sake. Annabeth needs a coffee.

At that moment, the boy turns around from Mr Brunner's desk. Rachel squawks and grips Annabeth's hand, because this is the moment we'll decide if he really is cute, she eagerly hisses, not that Annabeth particularly cares, but it's safe to say when they both catch a glimpse of his face they both get the wind quite fairly knocked out of them.

He's got sharp green eyes and messy dark hair, and a slightly nervous look on his face. He is beautiful, to put it simply, and Annabeth is not going to say something as cliched as "she suddenly felt more awake than ever" because that's untrue, but also, like. Well. After seeing his face she suddenly didn't feel like she needed to have a nap anymore.

(Which is not the same thing, okay. It was probably the packet of gummy worms she had eaten for breakfast finally kicking in.)

"Oh," she says faintly.

"Oh," Rachel says. "Well, dang, I've got to have him now."

The high fades. By the time class ends Annabeth is back to almost falling asleep where she stands. She actually stumbles as she gets out of her chair, and Rachel has to reach out to steady her, which is just embarrassing. She thanks her, her cheeks red, and then flees as fast as she can.

She texts Piper on the way.

Annabeth: you have a free period next don't you

Piper: yes why

Annabeth: meet me in the cafeteria and bring coffee it's an emergency

Like the good, dutiful friend she is, only moments after Annabeth has found a vacant table and collapsed into it, Piper appears next to her, holding a coffee cup. "Hey," she says. "What's the emergency?"

"Me," Annabeth says. She takes the coffee out of Piper's hand and sips it. "Oh, bleurgh, this is black. Why did you get this? You know I hate black coffee."

"Because it's my coffee," Piper says, taking the cup out of her hand. "Get your dirty paws off it." She takes a sip and then peers at Annabeth. "You look awful."

"Where's my coffee?"

"I didn't bring you one."

"I specifically asked for you to bring me coffee."

"No, you told me to bring a coffee. Which I did." She lifts her cup. "This one."

"Piper."

"I'm totally kidding, don't worry." Piper produces a cup from her bag, as well as brown paper bag. "Here you are. Double shot, three sugars. Also doughnuts."

Annabeth practically moans. "I knew there was a reason you were my best friend," she says, salivating. She takes a long, blissful sip of her coffee, and then smacks her lips together, letting out an obnoxious ahhh.

"All right, woman, control yourself," Piper says. "Pass me a doughnut, would you?"

Annabeth slides the bag back across the table, and Piper rootles around in it before producing one and balancing it on top of her coffee lid. She pops the lid off and dips it in.

"So," she says conversationally. "Did you sleep at all?"

Annabeth groans and flops pathetically on the table. "No," she whines.

"Why not?"

"It was that blasted English assignment. And guess what? It wasn't even due today! I wanted to shoot myself through the foot."

"I'm glad you didn't," Piper says. "Here, breathe. Have a doughnut."

Annabeth has a doughnut.

"Do you feel better?" Piper asks.

"Not really," Annabeth says. "I might need more doughnuts to compensate."

Piper narrows her eyes, but slides over the bag anyway.

As Annabeth starts burrowing her way through them, Piper takes another sip of her coffee and then folds her arms on the table. "So," she says. "Have you seen the new boy yet?"

"Hm?" Annabeth says. "Oh, yeah. He's in my History class."

"Nancy Bobofit said he was sex on legs. Is that true?"

"Not entirely. He's like– hugs on legs, you know? He is very attractive, though."

"No one says 'attractive', Annabeth. Is he hot?"

"Kind of. In that endearing, boy-next-door kind of way. I think Rachel has her eye on him."

"Rachel has her eye on anything that moves," Piper says. "Including various endangered species of lizard."

Annabeth just rolls her eyes.

"Have you talked to him yet?"

"The new boy?"

Piper nods.

"No. I just saw his behind and then a glimpse of his face."

"Is his ass nice?"

"Piper!"

"What? It was just a question! You said you saw his behind!"

"I– I meant his back, Piper! Not– that!"

"Well? Is it?"

Annabeth fights to keep the blush off her cheeks. "I'm not answering that."

"Come on, Beth, you're depriving me! I thought best friends were meant to tell each other these sorts of things."

Annabeth just crams two doughnuts in her mouth at the same time, and, when Piper gives her a narrowed look, just shrugs innocently.

"You can't avoid the question by stuffing your mouth," Piper says.

"Yes I can."

"I didn't hear what you said, but I'm assuming you said yes I can, in which case you are wrong. There are a limited amount of doughnuts in that bag."

Annabeth just shrugs, and then swallows. At Piper's triumphant look, she says, "You do realise I can just refuse to answer."

"I don't see what the problem is. Do you even know his name?"

"No."

"Exactly. No emotional attachment for you to be all noble and respectable about not gossiping. Now, come on, tell Auntie Piper. How's the booty?"

Annabeth rolls her eyes, and stares down at her coffee. "It's okay," she mumbles.

Piper cups a hand around her ear. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"He's got a nice butt, all right."

"There we go." Piper sits back down, her eyes gleaming. "Was that so hard?"

"Incredibly."

"And aren't you glad you've now got that off your chest. Look at you, I can already see the tension leave your shoulders."

"I will kick you in the teeth."

"Please don't, three years of braces and excruciatingly awkward preteen pictures have led to them being where they are now." She catches sight of something over Annabeth's shoulder, and a grin spreads across her face. "Well, speak of the devil."

Annabeth turns around. "What?"

"No, don't look, you'll draw attention. It's the new boy. Just walked in."

"How do you know what he looks like?"

"I don't. I'm just assuming he's new because I've never seen him before."

"Up until Thursday you had never seen Mr Butler before. And he's been our Maths teacher for the past three years."

Piper sighs. "Fine, then, you turn around and tell me if it's him."

Annabeth does a quick, inconspicuous glance over her shoulder. She spots the boy sitting by himself at a table by the corner, with a pair of earphones in, and an untouched muffin in front of him.

She could recognise him anywhere.

"That's him," she whispers.

"You don't have to whisper," Piper says. "It's not like he can hear us."

"He could."

"Whatever." Piper takes another sip of her coffee. "We should sit with him."

"That's a terrible idea."

"He's sitting alone."

"Why would he want us to sit with him?"

"Yes, but why wouldn't he? Come on, let's just make him feel welcome. If he's super mean we'll just pick up everything and leave, and we can sit with Hazel and Rachel."

Annabeth sighs. "All right, whatever."

They make their way over to where the boy is sitting. He doesn't notice them approaching – he's too busy absently scrolling through his phone, his muffin sitting discarded in front of him. His general posture and body language scream leave me alone to Annabeth, but Piper is quite undeterred, and slides her tray onto the table with a cheerful clatter. He looks up sharply.

"Hey!" she says. "Can we sit with you?"

He blinks, a little startled. "Um. Sure?"

"Cool." Piper sits down, and nods at Annabeth to do the same. "I'm Piper, by the way. This is Annabeth."

Annabeth waves awkwardly.

"I'm Percy," the boy says.

Percy. Old-fashioned. It suits him, kind of.

"Well, Percy," Piper says, spearing one of her potatoes. "What brings you to this garbage disposal of ruined hopes and dreams of a school, then? Was your previous school just one giant torture chamber?"

"Your school spirit is just incredible," Percy says.

"Just can't fight that Goode pride, as you can tell," Piper says. "I'm brimming with patrimony."

"Patriotism," Annabeth absently corrects.

Percy cracks a grin at her. Despite herself, she grins back.

"Well?" Piper prompts.

"Felt like a change of scenery," Percy says. "Me and my mom moved. I went to Yancy before. You know it?"

"That's a boarding school, isn't it?" Annabeth asks.

He nods. "I went there for a few years. Then Mom got a new job and we transferred here, so. I started here."

"I'm so terribly sorry," Piper says. "You're going to hate it here."

"Right, that's how you make someone feel welcome," Annabeth says.

"It's not all doom and gloom, though," Piper hurries to say. "I mean, we're here, and we're pretty awesome. If you stick with us I can guarantee your run here will be much more enjoyable."

Annabeth shakes her head. "You're so bad at this."

Percy actually laughs. "No, it's okay," he says. "I'm riveted, truly. Why does it suck here so much?"

Piper preens. "You've come to the right people."

"We technically came to him."

"We know all the gossip here," Piper says. "And by we, I mean me, Annabeth just loiters next to me and therefore knows everything by default. I have dirt on almost everyone in this school. Including Annabeth."

"That's probably true," Annabeth says. "Our sleepovers get pretty intense."

"I know everyone's shame," Piper says, bragging a little. "Honestly, point to anyone in this room, I can tell you at least three dirty secrets about them."

"That was an invitation for you to do so," Annabeth says, when Percy immediately doesn't. "She wants to show off."

"I want him to get accustomed," Piper corrects, but she straightens, and Annabeth smirks into her bagel.

"Oh." Percy looks tentatively around the room. He then points to a random junior with blonde hair in bunches. "Uh, her?"

"Lacey," Piper says. "She wore fake Uggs to school once and she still hasn't been able to live it down."

Percy snorts. "That's what you mean by dirt?"

Indignantly, Piper bristles. "I can tell you lots of deep intricate things about Drew Tanaka," she says, slightly petulantly. "Lacey's nice but slightly bland, there's nothing bad about her."

"Except the fake Uggs," Annabeth says.

"Well, of course," Piper says amiably. "That was a disgrace."

Percy and Annabeth share a smile. Annabeth thinks she could get used to having him around.

It takes very little time for Percy and Annabeth to become friends. It takes even less time for Annabeth to develop a crush on him.

It's not strictly her fault, all right. Percy Jackson ("Jackson," Rachel says disapprovingly. "Well, I was kind of close") is simply fascinating, and Annabeth loves being around him. In History he flies paper aeroplanes into her back and at lunch Annabeth trades three sips of her chocolate of her milk for one of his cookies ("it's a calorie-based ratio," she had explained, "because three sips equals– hey, Percy, only three sips, okay, stop drinking–") and she goes over his house and he comes over to hers and they watch dumb movies and eat junk food. Once Annabeth even managed to persuade him into letting her paint their nails.

"Should I be jealous?" Piper asks one day. "You're both getting on very well."

"I'm not cheating on you, if that's what you think," Annabeth says. "My heart still belongs to you."

Piper holds a hand over her chest. "Babe."

"You know," Percy says conversationally, "to an outsider, this would sound pretty gay."

"You know it, sweetcheeks," Piper says with a wink, and then she gives Annabeth's butt a firm smack. Annabeth squawks indignantly.

He's just so wonderful that it's really not Annabeth's fault that she develops a crush on him. Piper and Annabeth are his first friends, but that soon opens the gates to him befriending almost the entirety of the school after that, which makes things one hundred percent worse, because of course he's super likeable and now everyone gets a piece of him. The football team adore him, oddly enough, which is only slightly peculiar, because Percy is the nicest, sweetest most genuine person probably ever and the football team kind of has a rep of trapping kids in airing cupboards and stealing sweets from freshmen, but what it does mean is that Percy ends up winning the friendship of people such as Jason Grace, aka resident Golden Boy, and also the current and long-term eye of Piper's affections.

"This is a disaster," Piper laments to Annabeth. "How long have I had a crush on Jason Grace for?"

"Three years, I think."

"That was a rhetorical question, but exactly. I'm not sure I can talk to him without either throwing up or confessing my undying love."

"Well, you might have to, he and Percy are coming over this way." Annabeth lifts her hand. "Hey, Percy!"

"No!" Piper hisses, scandalised, but it's too late, because Percy has already spotted Annabeth, and a beam spreads across his face. He says something to Jason, and then they're both heading over, Jason with his lunch tray and letterman jacket, and Percy with his brown paper bag and beautiful, beautiful eyes.

Snap out of it, Annabeth. God.

Percy cheerfully plops down next to Annabeth. "Hey," he says. He digs a cookie out of his bag and then hands it to her without so much as batting an eyelid, and she happily accepts it, breaking it into even pieces on her napkin and brushing the crumbs off her fingers. "Uh, guys, this is Jason. Jason, these are my friends, Piper and Annabeth."

"Oh, I know who you guys are," Jason says. "You were head of the Mathletes last year, weren't you?"

Annabeth nods.

"Led them to a regionals victory."

"Impressive." Jason looks over at Piper, who is staring back at him, her eyes wide, and her face scandalised. "Piper, right? You're on the cheer squad, aren't you? I heard you sing last year at the pep rally. You were really good."

Piper looks like she's going to pass out. "Thanks," she says faintly.

Annabeth subtly kicks her under the table, and she blinks, her gaze clearing. "I mean," she says, "uh, you were really good at the game last week. Your last goal was– great."

Jason grins widely.

Percy is inconspicuously looking between the two of them. He glances to Annabeth with a questioning look, like, what's the story between them?

Annabeth starts to spell out Piper has had a crush on him forever and she's very pretty so I think Jason might feel the same way with her cookie crumbs, until Jason looks up and goes, "What are you doing?" and Annabeth has to violently swipe all her crumbs off her napkin and say very aggressively, "Absolutely nothing" for him to drop the subject.

"So, Percy," Jason says. "How're you enjoying Goode so far?"

"It's good," Percy says, and then snorts at his own pun. Annabeth suppresses a smile. He's so lame. "Uh, no, but seriously, it's actually okay. These two described it as a very large, overly polished torture chamber, so considering that, it's pretty good."

"We did not describe it like that," Piper says primly. "I just said it was– slightly strenuous."

"You did not say that," Annabeth says.

"Slightly strenuous, torture chamber, same thing. Besides, I also did say that it wouldn't be as bad with us around, so that's clearly why Percy's having such a good time."

"Of course," Annabeth says. "Nothing to do with his scholastic development or perhaps sense of unity amongst the other students. Just us two and our enthralling personalities."

"Don't be a scrooge, Annabeth," Piper says. "We were totally a pivotal moment in Percy's happiness. Right, Percy?"

"Of course," Percy says.

"Have you thought about trying out for any of the teams?" Jason asks. "You look like you could be a good footballer."

With those shoulders, absolutely, Annabeth thinks dreamily. When Piper sharply elbows her in the stomach with a wide-eyed look, she realises with a flush of horror that she spoke aloud. She quickly coughs and stares firmly down at her cookie.

Thank God, Percy doesn't appear to have heard. "I'm not a big football guy," he says. "I might go for the swim team, though."

Annabeth sits up. "Really?"

Don't think about shirtless Percy. Don't you dare think about shirtless Percy.

"Yeah," he says. "I was on the team back at Yancy."

"You any good?" Jason asks.

Percy smiles crookedly. "I mean, I'd hope so. Is there a swim team here?"

"There is," Jason says. "If you want we can go talk to Coach Hedge after school, get you a try-out. Then you can get yourselves one of these babies" – he flicks his letterman jacket and Annabeth sees Piper visibly swoon – "and rule the school."

He's only half-teasing. If you wear a letterman jacket, you're powerful. And not just because the letterman jacket makes you one thousand percent more attractive. It guarantees you a free ticket to the very top of the food chain. Annabeth is both terrified and intrigued. Because there's a chance that if Percy does get it, he might just leave her and Piper in the dust (or rather, just her – Piper's a cheerleader, although that doesn't really buy her many points because she hasn't had a breast implant and the cheer captain Drew Tanaka hates her so she doesn't get invited to the Squad sleepovers) – but on the other hand, he could bring them with her.

It'd be the first time a Mathlete has so much as breathed the same air as the letterman-jacket-species willingly. And maybe if she plays her cards right, she could end up dating Percy. And they could have nerdy, sporty babies together, and defy the stereotypes, and it'd be like High School Musical. Just sans the musical.

You're getting ahead of yourself. Calm down.

"I mean, I was captain at my old school," Percy is saying. Annabeth zones back in enough to hear the tail end of the conversation. "So hopefully I'm okay."

"Hopefully?" Piper snorts. "Perce, if you were captain, you're going to be great."

"We definitely need to get you a try-out," Jason says. "The current swim captain is a jackass. He's called Octavian. He put a trout in Nico's locker."

"Oh, I hate Octavian," Piper says. "One time he put cameras in our locker room so he could record us getting changed."

"God, what a creep," Annabeth says.

"It's cool," Piper says. "Clarisse found them and almost twisted him inside out. Then me and Silena put marmalade in his swim trunks."

Jason almost looks impressed. "That was you?"

"The one and only."

He holds up his hand for a high-five. Piper accepts, looking a little dazed. Annabeth shakes her head fondly.

"What about you, Beth?" Percy asks. "You're on the Maths team, right?"

"I am. We're not as spectacular as you guys, but we're something."

"You sound cool. If I liked or was good at Maths, I'd totally go for it."

Annabeth laughs. "I mean, we don't get a swanky jacket or anything, so I really don't know what you'd be in it for."

"You're right," Percy says. "That's the deal-breaker for me."

"Mine would be the Speedos you'll have to wear," Piper says. "Good grief, when I first saw those I nearly passed out. And not in a good way."

"They're not that bad," Jason says.

"You're a straight boy, you don't count. As someone who is attracted to boys, let me tell you, those Speedos do nothing good for anyone. They're so tight, I thought I could see, like–" She stops herself just in time. "Well. I mean. I won't describe it. We are eating, after all. Speaking of." Her hand starts snaking towards Annabeth's strawberry shoelaces. "Can I have one?"

"Does it even matter what I'm going to say?"

"Of course it does. You're my best friend, I care about your opinion." Her hand creeps into the packet. "So?"

"No."

"You're a gem." Piper pulls out a fistful and then arranges them on the table in front of her. "I love these."

"Did you even hear what I said?"

"We all know that when you say no it means yes. Besides, I'm your best friend. I know I just said I care about your opinion but when it comes to your opinion deciding whether or not I'll be receiving food I've decided that it doesn't matter."

Annabeth just sighs. "Whatever. Percy, can I have a cookie to make up for it?"

"Give it to her," Piper says, through a mouthful of candy. "Or she'll take some of mine."

"That sounds fair," Percy says.

"No, I don't want her to."

"You're all so stingy," Annabeth says. "For goodness sake."

"You can have one of my celery sticks," Jason offers.

Annabeth hates celery but she takes it anyway. "Thank you," she says. "At least one person appreciates me."

Piper meekly swallows. "Can I have some celery, Jason?"

Dear God. She's going to give her an ulcer.

Through rolling her eyes, she meets Percy's gaze, and he just grins at her, and then surreptitiously slides over one of his cookies. It's the last one he has. She's so touched she just stares at it for about three seconds.

"You can have it," he says.

She looks up at him. "Thank you," she says.

God, she wants to kiss him so bad. Instead, she just eats her cookie.

"Hey!" Annabeth plops down on the bench, and then slides a muffin across the table. "For you."

Percy accepts it. "Thank you. God, I've been waiting for this for years."

"That's a lie."

"Since second period, whatever. It felt like years." He starts peeling the wrapper off it. "Oh, chocolate chip. You're so good to me, Annabeth Chase."

She preens. "I try." She stabs a piece of pasta with her plastic fork, and then notices that Percy has one earphone in. "What are you listening to?"

He looks almost apprehensive. "Uh," he says. "It's– nothing."

"No, seriously," she says. "What is it? Unless it's, like, porn audio, in which case, no judgement, just not my style."

"It's not porn audio."

"What is it then?"

Percy shrugs, looking a little bashful. "Just some stuff," he says. He hesitates. "Do you know Billy Joel?"

Annabeth sits up. "You listen to Billy Joel?"

"You know who that is?"

"Are you kidding me? I love Billy Joel. My dad has all his vinyls. Which song?"

"Piano Man. I know it's kind of cheesy."

"Pass a headphone," Annabeth says, shuffling up next to him. "Piano Man is a classic. Did you know it made Rolling Stone's top 500 songs of all time?"

"What number?"

Annabeth pulls a face. "421. Bob Dylan snatched number one."

"Robbed."

"Beatles got 8."

"Which song? Don't tell me it's Hey Jude."

"It's Hey Jude."

Percy rolls his eyes.

"Come on, Hey Jude is incredible."

"I'm not saying it's not, it's just that they just have other incredible songs. You can't top something like Eleanor Rigby or All You Need Is Love."

"Agree to disagree," Annabeth says. "But at least agree with me that Smells Like Teen Spirit deserved spot 9 and our friendship can remain intact."

"I'll toast you to that," Percy says, and because they don't have cups they fist-bump. Annabeth smothers any butterflies at the hand-touching-hand action with a cross mantra of friends friends friends.

They listen to the song together, quite content just to sit there. At some point Percy ends up hooking his foot around Annabeth's and their legs swing together, and neither of them mention it. They're pressed up against each other, thighs and arms and shoulders, and Annabeth tries to control how giddy it's making her feel.

God, she's like a teenage girl with a schoolgirl crush.

Which– she technically is. Whatever. Details.

"Hey," Percy says to her, and she blinks and looks up. He looks almost bashful, which is unusual, so she takes out the earphone and looks at him. "There's– a small musical festival on this weekend. Would you want to come with me?"

Annabeth raises an eyebrow, trying to control the slam of her heart. "Are you asking me on a date, Percy Jackson?"

His cheeks flame. "I mean. I just–"

Annabeth laughs. "I'm totally kidding." (She's not kidding, at all. She wants Percy to ask her on a date. In some instances, she might argue she needs him to.) "And I'd love to. Do I know anyone who's playing?"

"I don't think so. They're local bands. They're pretty good, though. I know one of the guys in it."

"Sounds like fun. Anyone else coming?"

Percy's definitely blushing now. "Uh. No. It's just us."

Calm, Annabeth. Calm.

"Awesome," she squeaks. God, get it together. She clears her throat. "I mean, yeah, sounds cool. Can you text me the details when you get them?"

"Of course," Percy says. He looks slightly relieved that she's dropped the it's just us train of thought, which sends forest fires through her veins because wait if he's relieved that means it means something which means that this means a date and that's enough to almost jar her into a panicked frenzy. However, before she can overthink it and consequently throw herself in front of a truck he offers her the earphone back. "Here, you want to keep listening? I've got all of 1 by the Beatles on here."

Relieved, Annabeth accepts it. "I'd love to."

Piper: hey Annabeth are you free this Saturday?

Piper: me and rach are going shopping

Piper: hazel might be coming but she's not sure yet

Piper: can you make it? i want to see if I can guilt-trip Rachel into buying

Annabeth: hey im really sorry but im busy

Piper: what on earth could you be busy with on a weekend chase

Piper: arranging your encyclopaedias

Annabeth: me and percy are going to a music festival actually

Piper: what

Piper: whAT

Piper: WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME ABOUT THIS

Annabeth: ? ? I didn't think I needed to?

Piper: this is a DATE

Piper: you're going on a DATE

Piper: your FIRST DATE

Piper: with NEW BOY PERCY JACKSON

Annabeth: okay first it's not a date calm ur tits

Annabeth: it turns out we like the same music and he recommended some bands to me, and they're playing, so we're going to see them live

Annabeth: that's it

Piper: god no percy's an 80s bum?

Piper: dammit I knew there was something no one can be that perfect

Annabeth: excuse you im also an 80s bum

Piper: I know and i never let you forget it

Piper: well have fun on your date! you must tell me everything when you get back! now gtg I need to blackmail Rachel into giving me her allowance x

Annabeth: it's not a date

The festival is being held in a big open field in the evening. It's very casual, and Annabeth silently breathes a sigh of relief. At first, she had been terrified that her shorts and tank were a bit showy, until she had turned up and everyone was dressed the exact same, if not more so. Percy is in jeans and a soft blue T-shirt that she instantly falls in love with, and when he catches sight of her he grins.

"Hey!" he says. "I'm so glad you could make it!"

"Me too," she says. "You look great."

"Thanks, you too." He takes her hand. "Come on, let's find a spot."

Originally, Annabeth had expected it to be a little like a concert, but it really is very casual. Everyone is sat on picnic blankets across the field, surrounding a raised white stage in which the first band is already playing on. They find a decent space and they both collapse on the grass, Annabeth letting out a sigh of relief at finally getting a rest. It had taken half an hour to trek here, and walking down the stairs that morning she'd done something to her ankle that made it less than pleasant to be walking so far for so long.

She checks her phone. It's not that late, maybe only around six, and the summer air has kept the night away, but the sky is beginning to pink a little. By the time the band are finished the sky is a gorgeous crimson, and she can't help but take a picture and send it to Piper.

Piper: youre on a date and you send me a picture of the sky

Piper: lame

Annabeth: not a date

Piper: suuuureee

She switches off her phone after that.

The next performer is a tall slim blond boy in a bow tie and board shorts who introduces himself as Will Solace ("that can't possibly be his real name" "it actually is, shockingly. I think he just constantly wears yellow all the time to, like, accentuate the brand"). He gives an awkward little wave and then sits down at a keyboard placed at the front of the stage, adjusting the mic stand.

"Hey, everyone," he says. "I'm going to play a few songs, if that's all right?"

Someone cheers, and he grins bashfully. "All right, then."

The sun sets behind them, and Annabeth leans back on her hands and closes her eyes as the sound of piano envelopes her. Will has a beautiful voice and even though she doesn't recognise the song it's still wonderful. When she opens her eyes again, the sky has turned a deep red, and everyone is casting long shadows on the grass behind them. Annabeth glances over her shoulder and sees herself and Percy, stretched out in grey like statues.

She swallows, and then shuffles a little closer to him. "Thanks for bringing me here," she says, her voice barely a whisper. "It's really nice."

Percy grins at her softly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

She wants to say more, and she can tell he does, too, but the purpling sky has made her slightly drowsy, and the music surrounding them is so beautiful and the atmosphere is just so delicate she fears saying anything more would shatter the illusion. Instead, she chooses to stay quiet.

At some point, she feels Percy's fingers brush against hers. Butterflies swam in her stomach, but she doesn't say anything. Instead, she turns her hand, so their palms are touching, and Percy gently interlinks their fingers. She can feel him look at her, so she turns her head to the side so he doesn't see the smile that's threatening to stretch across her face.

The song ends, and the crowd ripples with applause. A new one starts, and as soon as it does, Annabeth lets out a laugh. Of course.

She turns to look at Percy, and finds him already staring at her with delight. "Well, isn't this convenient," he says, grinning.

"It's our song," she says, and even though it's pretty obvious he doesn't rag on her for it. Instead, he clambers ungracefully to his feet, and holds out his hand.

"Annabeth Chase," he says. "Will you dance with me?"

She bursts out laughing. "Percy, we're in public."

"How many opportunities are we going to get where they play Billy Joel in a public area where it would be semi-acceptable to dance?" he asks her, and she just rolls her eyes. "Listen, Annabeth, you can turn me down, but when we're at McDonald's and it starts playing I'll make you dance right there, and you aren't allowed to say no."

"Like this song would ever play in McDonald's," Annabeth grumbles, but she grudgingly accepts his hand. He pulls her to her feet and then takes her hand in his right, resting his left on her waist.

"Just indulge me," Percy says, when he sees the slightly reluctant look on her face. "Just this once. Then you can walk away and never speak to me ever again."

Annabeth rolls her eyes again, but she properly takes hold of his hand. "I wouldn't do that," she says. "Although while we're here if anyone asks I don't know you."

Percy throws back his head and laughs. When they make eye contact again, his eyes are sparkling, and Annabeth feels something kick to life in her chest. She's so in love it actually hurts.

They sway together as Piano Man plays in the background. With a smile, Annabeth realises quite a few other people have seen them and followed suit – she spots some couples swaying together as well, laughing, and over Percy's shoulder she sees two boys dramatically ballroom dancing, one pulling the other into a dip so theatrical they both overbalance and almost career forward. Annabeth has to hide her smile into Percy's shoulder.

It's quite a cheerful song, so it's more silly than it is romantic, but strangely Annabeth doesn't even mind. When the song reaches its climax, Percy clumsily twirls her, and she laughs delightedly, but the mood quickly sobers when she comes back in, because now she's closer than ever, and their noses are only inches apart. They stare at each other.

For one, heart-stopping moment, Annabeth thinks he's going to kiss her.

Then, before he can, he just turns his head and pulls her into his chest, and rests his cheek on top of her head. She blinks, and then settles, tucking her head into his chest. She doesn't know what to think.

They could have kissed. In fact, they nearly did.

But Percy pulled back before they could, and now they're dancing closer than ever and under his soft hoodie his heartbeat is slamming. She knows hers is the same, but she doesn't say anything, because she doesn't want to ruin it.

Whatever is unfurling between them is so, so delicate, and so fragile, and she doesn't want to break it yet. She'll let the elephant in the room remain where it is.

The song ends, and everyone claps. Percy and Annabeth pull apart a little, and when Percy's arms slip from around her waist she almost frowns, because hey, she liked them there. She stares up at his face, but he can't look her in the eye.

She purses her lips. "You all right?" she asks softly.

"I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

To the hog with the elephant in the room. She lets his arms disappear completely from around her waist, and then asks in a soft voice, "then why aren't you looking at me?"

His cheeks flame. He pulls his eyes up so he's meeting her gaze. "Sorry."

"Don't be." She smiles wryly. "I liked this."

He's nervous, but he manages a smile. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." She hesitates, and then leans up and kisses him on the cheek. When she pulls away, his eyes are wide and his cheeks are flushed, but he's really looking her in the eyes this time. "Are we okay?"

"Why wouldn't we be?" His voice is slightly breathless.

"You're acting a bit weird."

"That may be due to the fact that you just kissed me and my brain is now short-circuiting, but I'm good, I promise."

She grins at him. "You took me on a date, and you expected me not to kiss you?"

"I thought this wasn't a date."

"I mean. It could be, technically. There's even a sunset and everything. How romantic is that?"

Percy manages a laugh. "I think as far as first dates go, this has surpassed any and all expectations. We danced, Annabeth. That's so gross."

"Okay, firstly, you were the one who made me dance."

"I didn't make you–"

"But that's cool, right? This should make me stick out amongst all your other potential suitors."

"What other potential suitors?"

"All of them," Annabeth says. "I mean, you're on the swim team now. You've got the jock jacket. All the ladies swoon as you pass them."

"Unluckily for them, I have my sights set on only one."

She really can't help the smile this time. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," he says. "She's cool and funny and adorable and has great taste in music and she buys me chocolate chip muffins and the first time I saw her she was talking about how good my ass was."

Annabeth's cheeks flame. "Oh my God, you heard that?"

"I think the entire school heard that, you weren't being very quiet."

"That's so embarrassing, oh my God."

"Don't worry, it was nice. Besides, you also have a great ass, so we can be, like. A great-assed couple."

"Don't say that."

"It's true."

Everyone has sat down now, and Will Solace has started singing another song that she doesn't recognise, but Annabeth doesn't want to move. She's grounded here, in this moment, staring up at Percy with the beautiful green eyes and stupid squeaky laugh. This, she decides, is what perfection feels like. The sky is a purple blur behind them and Percy's hands are inching towards her waist again, and there's a feeling like she's done this a hundred times before that's thrumming through her veins.

This feels familiar. This feels like home.

"Why does this feel so normal?" Percy wonders out loud.

She smiles. "You feel it, too?"

"Yeah. Like– I've done this before. Like I know you from somewhere."

Annabeth would tease him, but it feels the exact same for her.

"Me, too," she whispers. "I–I recognise this. But not really. Like...–"

Her voice trails off. Percy nods. "I know."

They don't do anything except stand there holding each other while the sun sets around them. Right now, they have all the time in the world.

a/n hey guys! i hope you all enjoyed that! i did a buttload of research for this but there are probably some mistakes i've made so i apologise on behalf of those

also - these are actual lifetimes they've lived. in the servant England lifetime, they lived a nice life until they were old and grey, and died. in the nazi Germany life they both died relatively young (they couldn't have been older than ten or eleven) because percy was in a concentration camp and berlin was bombed quite severely in 1943 during the battle of berlin, which was why they then reincarnated so quickly to the 1980s, in which they died in a car crash only a few months after meeting, which was why they then reincarnated so quickly to be born mid-90s to be a teenager by 2015. :DD

anyway! i hope you enjoyed! please tell me what you thought xx