www.(8tracks) newyawknewyawk/new-york-new-york

Lady, running down to the riptide
Taken away to the dark side
I wanna be your left-hand man

When Annabeth meets Percy for the first time, she isn't sure whether she's more shocked or disappointed.

He's just so . . . scrawny. Isn't a hero supposed to be all strong and powerful? Percy spent the first three days at camp crying for his mother, for gods' sakes. She was expecting someone confident. Someone capable.

(Someone like Luke.)

Still, there's something almost irresistible in the depths of those green eyes, like a current tugging her out to sea.

And so she waits.

She offers him her hand, and he takes it. "Take care, Seaweed Brain," she says. "Keep your eyes open."

"You too, Wise Girl."

Annabeth smiles at him, then walks up the hill, ready to face the mortal world again. She takes one last look at the valley; Percy is still where she left him, on the Big House porch. He notices her looking and waves. She can almost see his smile from where she's standing.

She kisses him on the cheek after the chariot race and walks around in a daze for the rest of the day.

Percy doesn't even last two minutes after Argus picks them up from the Empire State Building. Between the empty strawberry crates and stacks of extra armor, there isn't enough room in the back of the van for them both to have a seat belt, let alone enough space to spread out. Percy doesn't seem to care about the lack of room; he just climbs into the back and passes out all the same.

With a sigh, she pulls off her hoodie and nudges Percy's shoulder. "Wake up, Seaweed Brain."

He jerks upright, his hand going to the pocket where he keeps Riptide. "Wha—? What's going on?"

"Nothing," she says soothingly. "You were falling asleep against the window and it looked uncomfortable. Want my sweatshirt?"

Percy blinks blearily at her. "Yes, please." He takes the sweatshirt, but instead of using it as a pillow as she'd been expecting, he slips it on over his dirty t-shirt. Then he yawns and drops his head onto her shoulder, snuggling into her side to get comfortable. "Good night, Wise Girl."

Annabeth blushes. From the driver's seat, the eye on the back of Argus's right hand shoots her a wink.

She doesn't realize she's holding out her arms for a hug until Percy steps into them, his hands shaking a little as they run up and down her back. Up close, he smells like laundry detergent and something else that she can't really place. She has to stretch up a teensy bit to rest her chin on his shoulder and gods of Olympus, when did he get so tall?

It hits her in that instant before the blade sinks into her arm—she loves Percy Jackson.

Damn it.

Could she have picked a worse time to come to such a realization?

But later, when it's just the two of them on the balcony, watching the sun rise on what could very well be the day the world ends—when he takes her hand and guides her fingers to the one spot that grounds him to mortality, well, Annabeth is glad that she got to spend her last morning on earth with her best friend.

"I'm honored and everything," Percy says, his voice strengthening as he talks. "Don't get me wrong. It's just . . . I've got a lot of life left to live. I'd hate to peak in my sophomore year."

Annabeth clamps a hand over her mouth to keep herself from cheering. Percy looks back, sees her expression, and positively beams.

He walks her back to her cabin and kisses her again outside the door. It's still a pretty awkward collision of lips and bodies and hands fisting in each other's hair, but it's a kiss nonetheless and it makes Annabeth feel like she's flying.

"Sparring match in the morning?" he asks when they finally break apart. Like they're just two best friends again, nothing more. It comforts her to know that not everything's changed.

"You're on." She returns his easy grin. "Night, loser."

"Night, dork."

Annabeth watches him cross the green to Cabin 3 and waves to him one last time before slipping through the door into her own cabin, intent on a long, hot shower to get rid of the residual smell of lake water in her hair. But when she closes the door behind her, she's accosted by a mob of excited half-siblings, all clamoring to know what had happened.

"Are you guys dating?" Brandon asks, and when Annabeth nods in the affirmative he grins widely. "I'm so proud of you for finally getting over your blindness."

"I was not blind!" she practically wails.

"Oh, yes you were," says Malcolm with a sigh from where he's tucking some of the younger kids back into bed. "Honey, I wanted to stab myself."

Someone taps her on the shoulder. She ignores it and goes back to looking at the map spread on the table in front of her.

"Chase," says Clarisse from behind her. "Have you eaten breakfast today?"

"No." Annabeth's voice sounds angry and distracted, even to her, but she can't muster up the willpower to apologize.

"Lunch?"

She shakes her head, but more of her attention is focused on the series of red Xs drawn on the map—all reports from satyrs and nymphs scattered across the East Coast searching for Percy. Williamsburg, Charlotte, Annapolis . . . nothing. Every lead was slipping through her fingers like sand in an hourglass. Every minute she wasted was a minute Percy could be dying.

"Did you sleep at all last night?"

"Can't remember."

Clarisse rips the map from her hands, ignoring Annabeth's indignant cry. "Come on. I know you don't want to be babysat, but I'm the only person in this camp who's brave enough to manhandle you. And if you're not going to take care of yourself, I guess I'm gonna have to do it for you."

"If you ever leave me again, I swear to all the gods . . . "

His smile is blinding, but it's the love and recognition in his eyes warms Annabeth right down to her feet. "Consider me warned. I missed you, too."

"Would you explain what you did—I mean didn't do? I mean . . . I really don't want that faun—I mean satyr—to kill me."

Frank takes off running. Percy sinks back into the blanket and closes his eyes again with a contented sigh.

"Seaweed Brain, you can't go back to sleep," Annabeth chides, though she can't stop herself from laughing a little bit. "Coach Hedge is going to have a heart attack."

"Mhm," he murmurs, already winding an arm around her waist to pull her back down. "I seem to remember a girl last night who was telling me I couldn't possibly be afraid of Coach Hedge—what happened to her?"

Annabeth smiles and lets Percy tug her down next to him again. "Oh, all right, we can stay. But only for a minute."

He hums contentedly and presses a kiss to her shoulder. For a heartbeat there's silence except for the rumbling of the engine in the next room and footsteps from the deck above them—the others getting ready to face the day.

Finally Percy nudges her gently and says, "We should probably get up now," and they do. Annabeth busies herself with folding the blanket they'd slept on while Percy picks wayward pieces of hay out of her hair; she finds herself shivering every time his hands accidentally brush her neck.

"Missed you," he mumbles, almost like he's talking to himself. "Annabeth."

Her I missed you too dies in her throat as Percy nearly crushes her in a hug. She can hear his breathing rumble deep in his chest, like thunder; concentrating on the rhythm is reassuring, so she counts his breaths. In, out. In, out.

The knowledge that she's standing there in his arms, both of them safe, loosens the iron grip of worry on her heart. She allows herself to be held for five seconds. Ten. Then she worms her way out of the hug and stretches up to kiss him.

"I'll just—um—go get in the shower," he says when they break apart at last. His cheeks are flushed pink. He all but sprints out of the room, and Annabeth bursts out laughing when she sees there's still straw stuck in his hair.

Shoulder to shoulder, they hold the Doors closed. Somewhere above them, elevator music plays—Jack Johnson, or something annoyingly cheerful like that. Blood from a cut on her forehead drips into Annabeth's eye, and a chill runs up her spine.

"This was pleasant," says Percy after a few minutes. "Definitely one of our better dates."

"Mm-hmm. Next time, though, can we just stick to dinner and a movie?"

"We'd just end up with an empousa working the concession stand or a random goddess in the seat behind us—you know that, right?"

"I hate my life."

After a long, hot shower and a change of clothes, Annabeth feels human again—well, human enough to join the others on deck for an hour or so before going to sleep.

Percy stands at the rail, looking out over the water. He turns and smiles at her when she moves to stand next to him, but the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.

She doesn't look at him when she says, "I know. I can't get that place out of my head, either."

"Damasen," Percy whispers. "And Bob. . ."

"I know," Annabeth says again. "We have to make their sacrifice worth it."

"We've got a good crew," murmurs Percy. "If I have to sail to my death—"

"You're not dying on me, Seaweed Brain," she all but orders. "Remember? Never separated again. And after we get home—"

A whirl of images flashes through her mind: her siblings and friends back at camp, a diploma, college acceptance letters littering the table, finally getting that architecture internship she'd wanted for ages, an apartment filled with unopened cardboard boxes. All of this passes through her mind in an instant, but it bolsters Annabeth's courage. She has something to plan and hope for at last. Something permanent.

And gods help any giant or primordial earth goddess that gets in her way.

"What?" Percy asks, a note of amusement in his voice like he knows what she's thinking about.

She kisses him to get that smug look off his face. "Ask me again, once we defeat Gaea."

He grins at her and bumps her with his shoulder. "Whatever you say." The unspoken dork hangs heavy in the air between them, and Annabeth stifles a laugh. Some things never change.

Percy angles his head back and looks up at the stars that are beginning to appear in the night sky. Annabeth follows suit, picking out individual constellations—Orion, the Big Dipper, even the Huntress. The star that forms Zoë's eye seems to twinkle brighter than the rest.

"Bob says hello," Percy says softly, and they sail off into a new day.

A/N: Happy birthday to our resident dork queen. Thanks for everything, Percy (although let's be real, if you didn't have Annabeth then nothing would get done). Have a good birthday! :)

Go listen to the 8tracks playlist I made for this story! Just take the parentheses out of the link at the top of the fic. It's a pretty awesome playlist.

This fic is dedicated to Meg because she's badass, and to all of you lovely readers because you're especially badass.

Drop me a review, homies!

EPC