I do not own.

Gun [1907]

The four hectares of land had long been maintained by his family. Since the Normans invaded, his father had a penchant to say. They maintained it mostly as hunting grounds but there were a few farms left on the land. Mostly hunting though.

"C'mon, Annie. Keep up!"

Her scowl cut through the thick morning fog to reach him. He was cheery in response. The two teens trudged through tall grasses to reach their goal. The height of the reeds obscured themselves from the neck-down. They hadn't brought the dogs with them.

Percy had with him only his father's shotgun. They hadn't brought the dogs or food. Not even a chair. They wouldn't need one. His father's property had hunting towers littered about. They could rest there.

"Call me that again, I dare you."

He stuck his tongue out at her. She replied in kind. They hadn't been mature back then. They hadn't been for years afterwards. They had been in love then. They still were, but it was different now. Back then it was them against the world. The war had changed them.

"Do you want to hold it?"

"Really? I can? I thought I was too much of a girl to hold it?"

He blushed in shame. "I didn't mean it! Well, not like that…"

"Then how did you mean it?"

His hands fiddled, uncertain, with the barrel of the gun. "You, just, well, you're a girl, and…"

"And…?"

"And if someone saw you with the gun…"

"Yes…?"

"Well, we would be in trouble."

"And we wouldn't be if you had been caught?"

"Well…"

"Oh, give it here!" She yanked the gun from his hands. He let her take it easily. She examined it. There was nothing special about it. American-made. Black metal barrel, wooden handle.

Percy felt something arise within him as his best friend examined the gun. She had taken some of his clothes: trousers, long coat, cap. The tan coat, in particular, fit her well. The gun in her hands made his stomach flip and cock throb.

"You were hoarding this?"

"It's my father's favorite," he mumbled.

"Why?"

"It works every time."

"Guns don't always work?" Annabeth paused to consider her words. "I guess, like any machine, they would break eventually. Right?"

"They can jam."

His eyes followed her lips as she spoke. They were nude and pink.

"What do you do when that happens?"

"I don't know. Father never taught me."

Annabeth just nodded in response, and they continued on in silence. The fields turned into marshes. Ponds opened up around them. Percy knew the place well enough to guide them to their destination, though. He had been hunting here for a decade.

"What has your father taught you?"

"What do you mean?"

The conversation had interrupted the silence, but neither missed a step.

"About being an adult."

Percy wondered where this line of inquiry was coming from. "All sorts of things."

She waited for him to continue. He had paused to use his binoculars to scout out the waterfowls' movements. Not that it would matter. They hadn't brought the dogs with them.

"How to track waterfowl, how to shoot a gun, how to kill a bird whose wings were clipped, how to shave."

"So not much then."

"That's a lot!"

"Not about being an adult. Adults don't hunt all the time. What has he taught you about running a household?"

"Well, nothing… yet." Percy looked over at her, trying to question her with his eyes. She didn't raise hers to meet his. She kept focusing on her steps, so as not to get caught in the mud.

Their conversation paused as he found the tower sitting out above the field of marsh grasses. It was an old wooden tower that his family hadn't had the resources to spare on reconstruction. Percy loved it. So did Annabeth. They had spent many afternoons in the summer prancing around outside it on their horses, jumping in the ponds around it and scaring the ducks.

But today was the first time that they were going hunting together. Percy had gone out like this many times. Annabeth had never gone with, so they decided to take the gun and sneak out.

"Have your parents mentioned anything to you?" He asked.

"Not yet. They want to talk soon."

"About what?"

"Marriage."

Percy paused. He spun around to face her, face petrified in surprise. "Marriage?!"

"What of it?" She smirked at him. Her steel eyes glinted in the smoky fog.

"I don't like the idea of you marrying someone," he forced out with some difficulty.

"Why not?" Her tone was light, teasing.

He stayed still in the reeds. His eyes flittered back and forth between her body and her hands on the gun.

"I…"

"Spit it out." She smiled at his discomfort. He scowled.

"I…" He sighed, fiddling with his fingers. "I always thought we'd get married."

"To each other?" His heart skipped a beat at her broad, happy smile.

"Well… yes," he said, heart beating rapidly and face red.

Holding the gun with only a hand, she reached her other hand out to grab his.

"Me too."

Striving to provide Southern Hospitality the world over,

LoverBoi (yes, I'm a guy)