A/N: Hey y'all. I know I'm writing another story right now, but I desperately needed a change of scenery (AKA I'm struggling with the other story :P), so I decided to pull out my list of AU ideas and throw a little one shot together.

Disclaimer: All rights to Rick Riordan. I only own the plot, which isn't even very original. (I found the AU prompt online, so I'm sure other people have had similar approaches to the prompt.)

Annabeth had always liked routines. Always. Every since she turned twenty-two and moved into a quaint little apartment down in Manhattan, New York, she did the very same thing every single day: get up at 5:20am, go for a run, shower at 6 in the morning (and hopefully tame her wild curls who she swore had a mind of its own), devour her blueberry, banana, and cinnamon overnight oats at 7:20 while watching the morning news, hitch a ride on the New York City subway system, and finally arrive at work by 8:10. Weekends were not much different. On Saturday mornings, instead of heading to work, she went grocery shopping for the next week and ran errands. On Sunday mornings, she lifted weights instead of going for a run and swallowed a power smoothie instead of scarfing down oatmeal and did the laundry instead of shopping. Every evening, regardless of whether it was a workday or the weekend, Annabeth read her book for about forty-five minutes before retiring for bed.

Others might have brushed her off as crazy or controlling, but she quite liked the way her days played out. Sue her for enjoying control over her own life, sue her for keeping to herself and maintaining her health, sue her for indulging in an honest day of work. It wasn't like she sat around judging other people and other people were seriously trainwrecks.

For instance, her landlord Mr. D, was drunk 99.9 percent of the time, and for the other 0.1 percent, Annabeth suspected he wished he was drunk. And who could forget the old lady who lived downstairs? She was constantly muttering something about Jesus and kids today, they need some serious help. She would always grip Annabeth's elbow uncomfortably tight whenever she passed by in the hallway and Annabeth was quite sure that she was that old lady, the type that little children were frightened of at no fault of their own. Annabeth was pretty sure the old woman had thrown a bible at the couple who used to live next to her. Then, of course, there was batty Mrs. Gerstle who lived across the hall from Annabeth, who always complained about noise that didn't exist, bought too many bags of cat litter, lots of prunes, and felt the need to comment on Annabeth's appearance any time they unfortunately ran into each other. She was an overall pain in the ass and Annabeth often found herself wondering what it how much satisfaction she would gain from telling the lady off herself, perhaps informing her about the stick up her ass.

If any of them honestly had the audacity to criticize her, Annabeth would most likely laugh in their face. She was, however, grateful for the newly vacant apartment adjacent to her. Her last neighbors, young and madly in love, were the only reason Annabeth tolerated Mrs. Gerstle's noise complaints; they had been loud. Not the throw-a-party-every-weekend type of loud, but the let's-get-our-freak-on-and-keep-Annabeth-up-all-night type of loud. It had been absolutely repulsing, listening to them go at it all night, every night. The blonde shuddered at the mere memory.

That was why, three weeks later, Annabeth was surprised to see the door to the apartment left of her slightly ajar with cardboard boxes piled high to about her waist. She had just returned from work and as enthusiastic as she was to meet her new, probably-insane neighbor (note the sarcasm), Annabeth succumbed to her exhaustion and instead fiddled with her key, hurriedly slamming the door of her own apartment shut behind her. Maybe, if she was lucky, she wouldn't have to introduce herself at all and pretend as if she hadn't known someone new had moved in.

Annabeth frowned and dropped the cheap, white and red Chinese-takeout boxes on her countertop, peeling back the folds and inhaling the mouth-watering scent slowly. The blonde plopped down on her couch, kicking off her heels and switching on the TV to the Discovery Channel. She unwrapped her chopsticks and plucked the sticks apart, desperately trying to ignore the quickly-sinking feeling in her chest.

She could hope all she wanted, but she'd always had rotten luck. Annabeth was going to have to meet this new neighbor whether she liked it or not. Blowing a strand of her hair out of her face, she chewed mournfully, choosing to momentarily forget the inevitable.

Much to Annabeth's surprise (and relief), she didn't run into the mysterious neighbor at all. Whoever they were, they managed to be very quiet (no unbearably disgusting sex noises), and minded their own business- two qualities which Annabeth very much appreciated. Of course her stroke of luck was going to run out, sooner or later.

Annabeth had drawn herself a bath, something she didn't do often. To her, it was a pleasant treat in her regular schedule. It had been a rough week at work, what with trying to get her blueprints approved and the blonde decided the best way to unwind was to relax in soapy, warm water, complete with scented citrus candles as well as epsom bath salts. After dawdling in the creamy bathtub for around half an hour, Annabeth stood up, carefully grasping the edge of the counter in order to not lose her balance. She'd wasted enough time; she had to prepare dinner, or at least, order something. Perhaps she could read while waiting for food to arrive.

Annabeth's eyes fluttered shut as she wistfully pictured her bedroom down the hall, The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho propped atop her pale pearl pillow. How she wished she could curl up under the covers and just read, willing the world to disintegrate before her eyes. In her eyes, it was just her and the Alchemist- the man with all the answers, the one who housed all the secrets, he who knew the past and the future, he who can turn any metal into gold. He came with the storm, he was the wind, he was mysterious, charismatic, secretive, charming, convincing; an enigma of sorts, dressed in all black with a hunting falcon perched on his forearm. To know everything in the world, to hold the elixir to life, there was nothing Annabeth wanted more and even though she rationally knew such knowledge was impossible, there was no shame in dreaming of such power.

Tucking a white towel around her frame and shaking out her golden curls, Annabeth turned her nose up at her work clothes and wandered out of the bathroom in search of fresh pajamas. No way was she cramming into a blouse, blazer, and pencil skirt again; if the pizza man had an issue with it, Annabeth would show him just where he could stuff his issues.

"Where the fuck…" she muttered under her breath, searching for her favorite old t-shirt. No, of course it didn't have Bill Nye on it, don't be ridiculous. It's not like she treasured it when she was eleven or anything. Annabeth's hand closed on the cotton t-shirt and she let out a breath of relief, fearing she had misplaced it. She went to tug it on when…

Bang!

Annabeth dropped poor Bill Nye (and her towel) in surprise and whipped around to face the living room wall. She should've been humiliated, she really should have, but she was too stunned to say anything.

Sea green eyes peered back at her, a horrified expression plastered all over his face. The young man dropped the table he had been holding, his eyes widening as he took in her appearance.

"I'm really sorry, fuck. Shit, I'd just been moving some new furniture in and I just- this really isn't how I wanted to meet the neighbors- and oh my gods, you're naked," he couldn't seem to string together a single coherent sentence, instead choking helplessly. Annabeth immediately moved to cover herself, her cheeks flushing slightly, but the hue in her face was no match for his flaming cardinal. Mortified, the raven-haired boy shielded his eyes, embarrassment and shame written all over his lips. At least he had the decency to look away.

Maybe it was because Annabeth was so freaking exhausted, but after a beat of silence, she unexpectedly threw her head back and laughed. In fact, Annabeth found she was more exasperated over the broken wall rather than their little interaction.

"Yes," she agreed after a moment, still chuckling. "I'm naked," her lips twitched in amusement.

"Look," his voice was muffled by his hands, "I'm really fucking sorry, I'll talk to the landlord, take care of the wall, and I swear I barely even saw anyth-"

"I'm Annabeth Chase," she snorted, interrupting his speech.

"I'm- I'm- what?" he peeked at her, absolutely bewildered, through the cracks of his fingers, the crimson stubbornly glowing. "You're not angry?" His confusion was evident in the tone of his voice.

"Oh, I'm fucking furious," Annabeth smiled wide, making him uneasy. Such a pretty smile for such angry words… He mildly wondered if she was going to go full Amazon on him and murder him. She seemed quite capable. "About the wall," she finished. "This," the blonde gestured at herself, "is more entertaining than anything else."

"Well…" he proceeded carefully, "I'm glad you have such a great sense of humor," he said dryly. Annabeth cracked a smile; he was a sarcastic little shit, so maybe this whole new neighbor thing wouldn't be nearly as bad as she'd initially thought it would be.

"So who are you?" she inquired bluntly.

"I'm Percy."

She cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Percy Jackson," he corrected.

"Well, Percy," she tested his name on her tongue and decided she liked the way it rolled off. "You don't have to hide your face forever, you know." She bent down to scoop up Bill Nye, cradling it close to her heart in a silent apology.

"I think I'd feel better, Ms. Chase, if you put something on first." His ears turned rosy.

"Not enjoying the view?" Annabeth couldn't help but tease, but obliged and located shorts while she was at it.

"Decent?" he asked after a moment.

"Mhmm. Call me Annabeth," she brushed away his formality.

"Alright, Annabeth," Percy emphasized, cautiously looking up. Slowly, his blush faded, his relief obvious. She tossed the towel to the ground, bemused as she took in his appearance now that his face was no longer covered. Percy had dark, floppy hair and sparkling sea green eyes, orbs that mirrored the raging ocean. He was tall, probably an inch taller than her and looked to be around her age.

"You know, you're still not the worst neighbor," Annabeth leaned back against her couch and peered at him through the gaping hole in the drywall.

Percy seemed to relax at her own non-tense stance. "Really?" he folded his arms across his chest. "I figured you'd hated me by now."

"Nonsense," Annabeth waved away his statement. "The last couple who lived in your apartment went at it all night, every night. No volume control or anything. And I'm not a voyeur, so as you can imagine, it wasn't very fun." She didn't know what had possessed her to say it so casually, but she was immediately rewarded with another dust of pink across his cheeks. She stifled a laugh. "You blush a lot, don't you?" she tilted her head at him.

"Not really," Percy admitted, laughing uncomfortably at the fact she'd spouted. "It seems you just know how to fluster people." His lips pressed together and Annabeth caught the smirk, the fucking smirk he tried to hide. It wasn't fair to her, it wasn't fair how fucking good he looked when he smirked. She couldn't quite place why the motion made her so ridiculously giddy. Sure, this wasn't an ideal introduction and she was positive Mr. D was going to castrate them both, but Percy was new and surprisingly lighthearted, surprisingly fun.

"What were you doing anyways?" Annabeth inquired.

"Well, I'd been trying to move in a new desk. And, because I'm so fucking smart, I decided to try and move that heavy thing by myself. As you can see, that really didn't well."

Annabeth grinned. "Indeed. These walls really are thin, aren't they?" she surveyed the wreckage carefully.

"They're not Percy Jackson safe," he agreed.

Annabeth laughed loudly. "Percy Jackson safe?"

He shot her a mischievous grin, one that made shivers run down her spine. She didn't ask what else had to be Percy Jackson safe, that would practically be feeding him the lines for his joke. "This is why I don't socialize," Annabeth said coolly.

Percy laughed. "Once again, I'm sorry for the second door I made. We'll just think of it as the second big bang." He smiled dorkily at his own joke and gestured to the hole when drywall bits crumbled to the ground on cue, just like the ending to a low-budget, bad comedy movie.

Annabeth shook her head at him, biting her lip to keep from smiling. "Actually, it's the third big bang," she corrected. "My neighbors," she clarified at his look of utter confusion.

Percy stared at her for a second before he threw his head back and laughed, delighted by her sense of humor and flawless timing. They peered at the wall in silence for a few moments, before he broke the quiet once more. "Hey, did you eat yet?" Percy spoke up all of a sudden, glancing at her hopefully.

"I was just about to order pizza," Annabeth shrugged.

"Great, so was I. Wanna come over?" he offered. Annabeth hesitated, trying to figure out what the hell was going on in her head. She didn't just randomly accept offers like this, she didn't spontaneously eat dinner with her attractive neighbor (yes, attractive, a girl had an opinion obviously). She was careful and liked plans, she didn't even know him for god's sake.

"I'm not a serial killer, I promise," Percy held up his hands in defense, poking fun at her hesitance. Annabeth blinked.

"You know, that's exactly what people say right before they murder you," she stated, matter-of-factedly.

Percy chuckled. "Just come on. My mom sent cookies as an early house-warming present. Besides, it's the least I can do to make up for the wall."

Annabeth paused once more. "I'm literally in my pajamas. I can't leave this apartment. I know you're new, but I do have a reputation to uphold, Percy," she pointed out.

"So?" Percy challenged, glancing down at his own clothes. "I'm literally wearing sweatpants and a Finding Nemo t-shirt."

Annabeth's lips curved up and her eyes flickered down to his chest, silently taking in the orange clownfish. "I guess," she conceded.

"Besides," Percy felt brave, "I already saw what's underneath. I'm sure Bill Nye will be no bother," he said cheekily.

Annabeth blinked once more. "Percy!" she chastised, her face feeling unnaturally hot, "you said you hadn't seen anything," she accused, a begrudging smile making its way onto her face.

"I lied," he beamed. "Didn't want to embarrass you." Percy sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

"It seems like it was the other way round," she mused, reminding him of his former expression. Percy rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. "Besides," Annabeth began, feeling brave herself, "you don't seem to be complaining." A wicked grin flickered across her face. With that, she flounced out her front door and out of his view, silently accepting his pizza offer. Pizza and some witty banter didn't seem so bad. Percy didn't seem so bad, truthfully.

Percy's mouth dropped open and he felt his heart stutter in his chest. That was so uncalled for, she was so uncalled for. Forcing himself to unfreeze, he stumbled to the door and opened it for her. When Annabeth stepped into his apartment, he found himself face to face with her steely grey eyes and pink lips.

"I'm glad you're not a bitch about the whole thing," Percy said without thinking and before he could be horrified by his lack of filter, Annabeth burst out laughing again.

"Me too," she agreed. "Now are you going to order pizza or do you always let your visitors starve?" Annabeth pursed her lips.

Percy grinned and picked up his phone, fumbling as he nervously dialed the local pizza place's phone number. "Do you like New York style?" Her eyes lit up and Percy smiled to himself, pleased that she shared some of his tastes. If he had known that he was going to run into a clever blonde with a sharp-tongue and silvery eyes, he might have been more excited to haul all his stuff to a new apartment in the beginning.

"I've got to say, I kinda miss the hole," Percy admitted, peering at the fixed drywall with Annabeth.

"Or the show," Annabeth muttered under her breath with a snort.

"Hey, I already apologized for that!" Percy remarked, crossing his arms over his chest. "Besides, you miss our little communication hole too, just admit it."

"I will do no such thing," Annabeth said stubbornly, cracking a tiny smile at his own contagious smile. "Besides, it's not like you can't still talk to me. We're literally neighbors." She looked at him, knowingly.

"Is this the part where I ask for your number?"

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Yes, Percy." She typed her number into his phone and he couldn't help but beam. He felt like a teenager, excited when the head cheerleader gave him her contact info. He tried to conceal his excitement.

The next week he'd texted, asking if she wanted to come over for pizza. The weekend after that, Annabeth left her dear Alchemist stranded once more, calling him over to binge some trashy TV with her. They engaged in friendly banter, arguing over pineapple on pizza and complained together about Mr. D. It was fun, he was fun. Annabeth, who had been so accustomed to her perfect schedules, was surprisingly unbothered by his interruption into her life. Some interruptions, she'd realized, weren't so bad after all.

A/N: So that's that. For all of y'all following my other story, I'll post a new chapter ASAP I promise. I don't have writer's block, but I'm reconsidering my initial ideas and doubting my original ending. We'll see how it goes.

I hoped this wasn't complete shit and somewhat enjoyable, but if it was, then feel free to leave flames in the reviews. Idrc and tbh, they're kinda entertaining lol :P Ciao~

PS: I've never even read The Alchemist. I just googled must reads for people in their 20s and then clicked on a link from Buzzfeed, everyone's favorite reliable source.

Fangirl Shrieks xx