ems101: I hope you're not dead yet! There will be Percabeth, don't you worry. I probably shouldn't say this, because I kind of have no idea where my brain will take me with these things, but I think the real beginning of Percabeth will be in about 3 or 4 chapters time (I think, I hope). If you read the description of this story, it says it's about love and growth. We're just getting into growth stages now... probably. (Don't worry, it happens to the best of us. Better to be safe than sorry on the internet!)

Guest: Ta da! As requested... although probably a little later than desired.

Guest (2): Sorry so late, but I've been so busy. Here's your update!

Fairchild: Well obviously OwenSawyer is- I'm not going to tell you that! But am I ever going to tell you who he is...

C123002: He might be... but he might not be...

As always, a big thank you to everyone who reads, reviews, favourites or follows.

Enjoy!

AnnabethChase: Good morning gorgeous! This is your daily reminder that someone in this world loves you.

AnnabethChase: Namely, your mum.

OwenSawyer: Wow. And here I thought you were trying to tell me something. Instead, you just wanted to make a 'your mum' joke, even if it is a little more complimentary than the usual variety.

Annabeth smiled. She loved her lazy Saturday mornings. Her parents let her lie in until lunch time if she wanted, and she took the time to catch up on sleep and curl up like a burrito in her duvet, relishing the warmth. Having a relaxed chat with OwenSawyer was an added bonus.

AnnabethChase: I thought you might appreciate a change, let me jazz up your life a little bit.

OwenSawyer: Because a good morning message is so life changing.

AnnabethChase: Well, somebody's in a good mood today.

OwenSawyer: I was, until somebody woke me up with a message.

AnnabethChase: Oh fair damsel! Let me save you from the nasty somebody who woke you up at eleven thirty in the morning!

OwenSawyer: This particular somebody is currently taking offence at the slur against their masculinity.

AnnabethChase: Oh come on! Gender's only a social construct.

OwenSawyer: Let me stop you there. It's a weekend. No smart talk allowed. Only fun stuff.

AnnabethChase: Fine.

She lay there and stared at her screen, unable to think of something to say - and judging by his silence, he was having difficulty too.

OwenSawyer: Do you sing in the shower?

Her eyebrows rose, somewhat surprised by the complete change in topic.

AnnabethChase: That came out of nowhere.

OwenSawyer: What? No it didn't.

AnnabethChase: Mhmm.

OwenSawyer: So maybe I Googled conversation starters.

AnnabethChase: Wow! You must have been desperate.

OwenSawyer: Like you weren't! There was that awkward lull there always is when someone says that we need to change the subject and then no-one can ever think of anything to talk about. I just did the smart thing.

AnnabethChase: Very smart. So, what else is on there?

OwenSawyer: On the list?

AnnabethChase: Yup.

OwenSawyer: Hmm... some weird ones. Like... How often do you shower? They seem to have a thing about showers. When is that ever an acceptable conversation opener?

AnnabethChase: When you're awkwardly talking to your teacher outside of college, obviously.

OwenSawyer: Or when you want to strike up a conversation with the old lady you're sitting next to on the bus.

AnnabethChase: Ha! What else?

There was a small pause in the conversation while he scrolled through the list, and she took the opportunity to consider getting out of bed. Peeping the toes of one of her feet out from under her quilt, she tested the air temperature in her room on a cold, autumnal day that, judging by the grey light seeping in around the edges of her curtains, was certain to be cloudy. Again. Retracting her foot, she weighed her options. Stay in the warmth, talking to OwenSawyer, or get up into the cold and talk to her family?

She rolled over and made herself comfortable.

OwenSawyer: How about 'What is the most valuable thing you own'?

AnnabethChase: Clearly the opening question of a master burglar.

OwenSawyer: Where do you see yourself in five years?

AnnabethChase: Is this a job interview?

OwenSawyer: What is the signature dish that you cook?

AnnabethChase: Weird phrasing, but cheese on toast.

OwenSawyer: Wait, was that last one a serious answer?

AnnabethChase: Yup.

OwenSawyer: So, what, can you just not cook?

AnnabethChase: I can, just not amazingly. But to be fair, I do make an awesome cheese on toast - most people either put too much or too little cheese on it. It's all about the cheese quantities.

AnnabethChase: Is this a problem?

OwenSawyer: I don't know...

AnnabethChase: I'm sorry, baking is just more my thing.

OwenSawyer: Ah! That makes up for everything. You're forgiven xxxxxxxx

AnnabethChase: Maybe one of the times you come down I'll bake you something xxxxxxxxx

OwenSawyer: How about a whole tray of chocolate brownies?

AnnabethChase: Mmmm... chocolate's an aphrodisiac, you know...

OwenSawyer: Maybe I'll let you break my rule about smart conversation on Saturdays if you keep talking like that!

AnnabethChase: Speaking of you visiting me... do you know what your time table is yet?

OwenSawyer: My timetable?

She huffed out a fond, if exasperated, breath, feeling her quilt warm against her face with her exhale; sometimes, she could swear he was intentionally obtuse.

AnnabethChase: For work? So you know when you can visit? Only the thing we've been waiting for for the last two days.

OwenSawyer: Ohhhh. That. I haven't had any news yet. Sorry.

He was being oddly apathetic about it, seeing how disappointed both of them had been the last week when they hadn't been able to meet - it hadn't just been her who had felt that way. Occasionally he had these funny moods, like when he was angry and struck out at her (verbally, of course) or when he was just a little cold, like now. Thankfully he normally snapped out of it pretty quickly, or else she would have begun to worry that he didn't really like her after all.

AnnabethChase: Oh.

OwenSawyer: I can check my emails if you want, see if there's anything new there. These people tend to work through the weekend. Sad, but true.

AnnabethChase: Please.

OwenSawyer: Okay, but this will take a little while, my internet's being slow at the moment. I'll get back to you once I've checked it.

AnnabethChase: And I'll make use of our little interlude to get myself some breakfast.

OwenSawyer: It is the most important meal of the day.

AnnabethChase: I know. I told you that, remember, when you said that you didn't eat it? Crazy man.

OwenSawyer: Agree to disagree. Happy munching xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

AnnabethChase: Happy emailing xxxxxxxxxxxxxx

There, her happy guy was back again. It must just be the effect of early mornings – he certainly wasn't a morning person, and was less so when she woke him up just to chat. She should be more careful about when she sent him a text.

Grunting under her breath, she braced herself against the cold air and flung the quilt aside, making a dash for her dressing gown and wrapping it around her like a warm hug. Having wiggled her feet into her slippers, she shuffled out and down the stairs, sliding into her seat at the dinner table. A bowl of steaming of porridge was placed in front of her. Scrunching up her eyebrows, she sent a questioning look at her step mum.

"Don't look so confused; it's a bowl of porridge, not complex mathematics. I know you like both of those things, but this is most definitely the simpler of the two."

"But..." she stuttered, "but how did you know to make it for me?"

"I heard you." At the lack of any sign of comprehension on Annabeth's blank face, Caroline levelled a look at her. "You're not as quiet as you think. I can hear your little chuckles and you tossing around in your bed when you're awake. I'm pretty good at guessing when to make your breakfast - if not, there's always the microwave or cereal. But I thought you'd appreciate the warmth."

Annabeth nodded, thanking her. "Well, it won't be warm for much longer if you don't start eating," Caroline urged, flapping a tea towel at her and moving away to finish off the washing up. Left to her own devices, Annabeth scarfed down a few mouthfuls before patting down her pockets in search of her phone.

Damn.

She'd left it upstairs.

She got up to fetch it, but before she was halfway to the stairs, her dad's voice drifted out from the living room. "I hope you're not sneaking away from the wonderful homemade porridge my wife lovingly made you just because you can't stand to be away from your phone for ten minutes." Sticking her head around the door, she grinned innocently at Frederick.

"Never! How could you malign me so? You must make me a cup of tea to earn my forgiveness." Swiftly she ran out of the room and back to the kitchen, quickly followed by the slipper her father had thrown after her that she was trying to dodge. "Missed!"

"Come back here right now missy!" he bellowed.

"Frederick!" Caroline scolded quietly. "You'll wake the boys!"

He shrugged. "They should have been up hours ago. When I was their age, I was out on my bike by 9 in the morning, having -"

"Yes dear, when you were a boy, yada yada..."

Annabeth chimed in. "Yeah, Frederick."

He held his hands up. "I can see when I'm not wanted."

"You're wanted to make me a cup of tea," Annabeth reminded.

He narrowed his eyes at her, before rolling them and tweaking her nose on his way past her to the kettle. "Only if you finish your porridge in the next two minutes." It was an empty threat, but she wolfed it down, storming through to the kitchen to claim her drink. With a kiss to her father's cheek and a smile of thanks to Caroline, she swished back upstairs, shedding her dressing gown for the chance to clamber back under her still warm covers.

Once curled up, she frowned. Something hard and cold was digging into her side. Upon extraction, she found it was her discarded phone, light flashing to indicate unopened messages.

OwenSawyer: It's here! I've got it! We can meet up and they won't be able to tear me away from you!

OwenSawyer: Annabeth? Hello?

OwenSawyer: Sweetheart, hurry up with the eating and get your cute butt back to your phone.

She beamed down at her phone and squirmed on her bed like an excited caterpillar.

AnnabethChase: Yes! When? When can we meet up? (And my butt isn't cute.)

He responded immediately, clearly as eager as she.

OwenSawyer: I can do Thursday this week, seeing as my replacement is all better now. My dad said that even if he wasn't I wouldn't have to come in because I had stepped up to the mark last time. Does that work? (Okay, so it's sexy then.)

AnnabethChase: Of course that works! I would cancel something if it didn't! So... same arrangement as last time then, only this week instead? (No, it's really not. It's disappointingly flat. I even tried doing squats. I guess I'm just the type who doesn't get a cute butt.)

OwenSawyer: Yup. This... feels too easy. Like something should go wrong soon. (I'm sure you have a very cute butt. I'll be able to confirm that this week. I bet all of you is cute.)

AnnabethChase: Don't say that! We deserve for it to be this easy after so much waiting. It will go perfectly, I'm sure. I can't wait to see you.

OwenSawyer: My lovely Annabeth, always the voice of wisdom and truth. I can't wait to see you either xxxxxxxxxx

...

2 days.

Only two more days until they met; the nerves and excitement were beginning to set in again, her hands often twisting in her hair in the day, spending her nights messaging OwenSawyer in the time freed up by her newfound insomnia. He never seemed to fall asleep before her; he claimed that he had had never been able to sleep easily, even before her. She wasn't sure she believed him - how would anyone ever survive on so little sleep - but she didn't mind. He could have a few secrets if he kept her company in those late, quiet hours.

She had somehow kept the news of their meeting to herself at college on the first day of the week, but her friends were shooting her suspicious looks. They had clearly noticed that she was still talking to him (it was hard to miss the fact that she was on her phone every free minute she could) and the jitters were similar to those she had last week. Not much had been said on the topic since their confrontation the previous week. Relations were obviously strained, although she was definitely more at ease with Silena than the others.

It was surprising - the two girls had never been the closest in the group as they had been so different, with Silena's interests being relationship orientated, while Annabeth's were more often than not focused on her studies. They cared for and appreciated one another, but fell into a more natural rapport with the others. Now Annabeth just appreciated the opportunity to talk to someone about her newest favourite topic without a side serving of judgement. Speaking of which...

"Hey Silena," Annabeth said quietly as she was walking past where Silena was seated in their roughly formed circle of friends, grasping her arm gently to get her attention. "You want to come with me while I get a drink?" She could see the denial ready on the tip of her friend's tongue - it wasn't as if she really wanted to leave her seat to accompany someone 20 feet to get a drink. She could see the moment of realisation as it dawned on Silena that this trip was really a thinly veiled excuse to chat, just the two of them. She nodded, unobtrusively excusing herself from the ongoing conversation.

"Let's go."

They traipsed out of the classroom in silence, both clutching their water bottles to lend validity to their excuse of getting a drink. Once they were a fair distance away, Silena burst out, "Spill it! I know you wanted to talk about something, and I think I can guess what..." She dragged out the last syllable teasingly. When she didn't get a response, she pulled on Annabeth's jumper. "Oh please! You know you want to talk to me..."

On a sharp exhale, Annabeth beamed and pulled over to the side of the corridor to talk face to face. "Right, so, um, well -" She shook her head in an attempt to clear it and started over. "We're meeting up! This Thursday! And it's definitely happening this time, because he got a promise from his dad, who's also sort of his boss, that no matter what, he wouldn't get called in to work, no matter what!"

Silena grinned back at her, clapping her hands together excitedly. She paused a moment - "We are talking about your online lover, aren't we?"

"Yes, Silena. How many guys do you think I have interested in me?"

"Probably more than you think."

"Whatever, you're delusional, can we get back to talking about this Thursday?"

Silena shrugged apologetically, then returned to clapping happily, celebrating with her friend. "So, are you meeting after college?"

"Yes, all the arrangements are the same as last time, except this time it's actually going to happen." They both chuckled.

"And who else knows?"

Annabeth looked around briefly, as if worried about eavesdroppers, before leaning in a little to whisper, "I've only told you. I don't think he's told anyone about me - it's almost like he's ashamed of me."

Silena shook her head, guiding Annabeth to the water fountain and starting to fill up their bottles. "Don't be silly. If he's coming all the way from... wherever he is, to here, then he cares about you far more than he would if he were ashamed of you."

"I guess. People our age don't tend to get into serious relationships like this. Maybe he's not ashamed of me, but of the way that we met.

Silena's lips twisted wryly as she listened to Annabeth's suppositions. "If he is, then that's stupid. But it doesn't matter," she added authoritatively as they turned to make the short journey back to their friends, "because he's not ashamed of you. Guys always want to play it cool about their relationships, but they freak out about it just as much as us."

"Really?"

"Really. Trust the lady in a relationship. Now you said only I knew?" Annabeth nodded mutely. "Then this is our little secret," she murmured, halting right outside the door to their classroom.

"Our little secret," Annabeth agreed emphatically, if in a similarly muted tone. They nodded at one another, then Silena led them into the room. Annabeth regarded Thalia, feeling slightly guilty she hadn't told her best friend, but she had made her feelings on the topic quite clear last time the subject had been brought up. She shook off the feeling, heading to her normal seat, completely missing the glance that Silena and Rachel shared.

...

AnnabethChase: I told one of my friends about us.

OwenSawyer: I thought you already told them and they took the mickey out of you for it.

AnnabethChase: What? Oh. No, I meant I told one of them about meeting with you this week.

OwenSawyer: What? Why would you do that?

AnnabethChase: Because she's my friend. Why are you always so defensive when I mention them?

OwenSawyer: I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I just don't like seeing you get hurt and you said that last time you talked to them about it, they said some hurtful stuff.

She had told him about the conversation that she'd had with her friends last week. At the very least, she had needed some comfort after what she had thought would have gone well, didn't, and no-one else knew about him, so she had turned to OwenSawyer himself. She would have told him anyway though; it was awkward to be sure, to tell him that her friends did not approve of him, but she wanted to be as open and honest as possible, as that's what the best relationships were based on.

AnnabethChase: Oh! Then I'm sorry too, for making an assumption. No, this friend was the only one who was supportive when we talked. She's always been a sucker for a romance story.

OwenSawyer: Oh, is that we are? A love story. Are they going to write epic poems about us long after we're dead?

AnnabethChase: Owen! You know what I meant.

OwenSawyer: Sorry. Did it go okay this time then?

AnnabethChase: Yeah, she was really happy about it too.

OwenSawyer: Too?

AnnabethChase: Stop digging for compliments. You know I'm excited. That's why I talked to my friend today - I had to tell someone!

OwenSawyer: Aww. You're so cute.

How patronising.

AnnabethChase: Don't act so blasé. I know you're pumped for this too.

OwenSawyer: Maybe a little bit. Just a tiny little bit.

AnnabethChase: Mhmm.

OwenSawyer: No, honestly though, you're right. I can't wait, I feel like I've been waiting forever! Nothing can stop us now!

...

Caroline had just called up that dinner was ready, when Annabeth heard the front door close. Slouched on her bed and curled around her phone, she wondered who would be using the front door at the time; the only explanation she could come up with was that her step mum had needed to shake out the front door mat – although why she would do that right before tea, Annabeth had no idea.

She put her phone on charge and headed down to investigate. There was no sign of anyone around the front door – not even of the kids, as Caroline had always been very pernickety about having a tidy front hall – so she headed to the kitchen, ready to offer to help with the finishing of dinner. Hovering at the threshold, she found her answer to the mystery of the closing front door. Her father was home.

It wasn't often he was home this early as he worked so hard, with long hours and a lengthy commute every day, so it hadn't been something that Annabeth had even considered. Now, he was sat at their kitchen table, head close to his wife's, cradling her hands in his. It could have been a tableau of two lovers murmuring sweet nothings to one another except for their serious, if not worried, faces.

"Dad? You're home. Is something wrong?" They both started visibly, heads whipping to face the door where she was standing. Her father flashed her a grin and stood, stretching his arms out in an invitation of a hug. The smile would have been convincing had it not lacked the usual twinkle in his eyes.

He murmured something unintelligible into her hair as he hugged her, then held her at arm's length and exclaimed jovially, "Your first instinct is that something's wrong just because I'm home in time for tea – I must be parenting badly. I may be home early, but I promise that the apocalypse hasn't come yet!" She chuckled, still regarding him a little suspiciously and peered over his shoulder to see Caroline briskly serving up the food onto separate plates. Frederick followed her eye line and released her. "Yes, dinner's almost ready. Go and call the boys a second time, will you?"

She followed his instructions, leaving him mumbling to himself about how they clearly had no concept of what the term 'now' meant. Soon enough, all of them were sat around the table, festivities as always enlivened by the presence of their father. All the same, something seemed to be off. Oh, the boys were the same as always, Matthew talking with his mouth full and Bobby scarfing his food down at a rate of knots, but her parents were… odd.

It took a while for Annabeth to pin it down to any particular thing but she soon realised that Caroline's shoulders seemed as if they were made of metal, stiff with her back straight, while she had never seen her dad look so old, his face and hair inexplicably greyer than this morning. Occasionally they'd share some sort of look across the table, and it wasn't a happy one either. At one point Caroline even left the table without explanation, although she suspected it was to compose herself adequately after whatever news had upset both her parents so much.

As the meal drew to a close, her brothers were given permission to leave the table and they slipped off their chairs to carry their dishes over to the dish washer. Annabeth made to follow suit, but her dad halted her with a hand on her arm, asking her with a slight raising of his fingers to wait a moment. Once the boys had left and the kitchen was quiet again, Caroline moved to sit next to Frederick, both of them facing Annabeth. She was becoming more and more confused by the minute.

After a long look that seemed to be the equivalent of a silent argument between the couple, Frederick turned to Annabeth. "You asked me when I got home whether something was wrong and I said no, but really we need to talk to you about something. With you about something." He heaved a sigh, glanced briefly at Caroline and nodded.

Caroline reached into her pocket and drew out a phone, depositing it on the table top with a clunk. It was a black one, long and rectangular. Annabeth's phone.

Annabeth's brows furrowed further. "Wha…"

Her father ran his hands through his hair, seemingly struggling for words. Resting her hand on his forearm, a hand that he moved to clutch in his with white knuckles, Caroline joined in the conversation for the first time in a low, firm voice.

"Annabeth, who is OwenSawyer?"

Dun dun duhhhhh! Cliffie!

And, I hate to say it, it might be left as a cliff hanger for a while. I'm just about to start uni in a few days (AGHHHHH) so free time will not be plentiful. Also, I found that I had very little motivation in writing this chapter, so I'm probably going to start writing as inspiration hits me, rather than just limiting myself to writing this story as I have been so far. Hopefully that will wake up my muse and my writing mojo for this story as well. But! Have no fear that this story will be abandoned. It may take me forever, but I will finish it one day

Thank you for reading, and I hope you have a nice day/evening/night!