prompted by idek-issues on tumblr! find more fic on a tumblr blog i share with four other great fic writers: pjowriters

There are very few things Annabeth openly expresses admiration for.

Starbucks on campus is one of them. The student discount is another.

Her hands curl around the paper cup that's gone lukewarm in the time she's spent frisking the internet for something useful to spruce up her research paper. The last thing she wants to hear from her professors is that her essay is dry and painful to sit through. If she's spending forty thousand dollars a year at a private school for her education, you can damn well believe she's going to be getting her money's worth. Even if she won't be able to afford food for… well, the rest of her young life.

After her third desperate peek at Wikipedia, she feels a headache form behind her eyes, throbbing something fierce. The coffee is chilled when she sips it for strength; she cringes a little, but it seems to dull the pain. She squares her shoulders, a defiant kind of gesture, and dives back into her hunt for fresh, unique material.

It can only be a few minutes later that she hears someone enter the cafe, a flurry of snow and wind following them from the glass doorway. She spares this person the glare coming their way for the sudden chill suffocating her skin in favor of concentrating on her paper. The boy smacks his boots loudly on the floor mat and her teeth begin to grind.

Quickly, she opens a Gale research engine, trying to fool herself into thinking she wouldn't rather be doing anything else right now. It almost works, she already has the advanced search filled out and her results filtered when she hears the newcomer step up to the barista. "Grande double chocolaty chip frappe, please," he says and immediately Annabeth is horrified.

Her head snaps up without her permission to take in the appearance of a person who dares order a frozen drink in the middle of a New York winter. The tips of her fingers begin to tingle at just the thought of this boy's drink order; he's practically praying for frost bite. Suddenly, she wishes her coffee was scalding again, so she could burn away the sympathetic chill she's beginning to feel.

Snowy Boots is unaffected, hands shoved into the pockets of his cargo jacket. He whistles good-naturedly as the sound of the blender shreds the previous silence of the cafe to pieces. "You want whipped cream on that?" the barista calls to him.

"Oh yeah," he responds. "Give me all you got."

Annabeth, in no way procrastinating from the education that is very important to her, only speaks up for the good of the dude ordering a frappe in January. "Are you crazy?"

He seems startled to hear her, whipping around and glancing at the spaces surrounding her, as if she might be on the phone or at the very least, talking to someone else. When it's clear she's looking at him, he shrugs and points to himself in confusion.

"Yes, you, Bonehead. You're aware that it's six below, right?"

His eyebrows shoot up at her bluntness and a choked laugh escapes his throat. Green eyes twinkle. "Uh, yeah. I've got a weather app on my phone."

"Everyone's got a weather app on their phone. The question is why you chose to disrespect it by blatantly ignoring the temperature outside and ordering a frozen drink in the middle of January."

He looks as if he's holding back laughter. "I like frappes any time of year." The barista hands him his drink and he slides some cash across the counter to her, taking a long sip to prove to Annabeth that he's speaking truth. "That's like saying you can't drink hot chocolate in July."

"You...you can't." Her voice cracks.

"Can." He states, tilting his head at his cup. "Do."

As she tries to catch her breath, he takes the open seat in front of her, scooting her laptop forward to give him room to place down his atrocity of a drink choice. She glares at it for longer than what could deem her sane. "You need to chill."

For a moment, she remains sweetly oblivious. But it's all too soon that the pun becomes clear and she feels her fists clench. She looks up to see his face red with the effort of holding back his laughter. "Chill. Ha. Get it?"

Her eye twitches. "I got it."

The boy's smile seems to stretch as he watches her, his shoulders sink comfortably and he leans back. It's at this time she decides it's in her best interest to avoid eye contact, because she feels something warm in her stomach and she's got more important things to feel warm about than some cute free spirit who doesn't follow the basic rules of seasonal drink choosing. Like her paper, for instance.

She hasn't been paying much attention to the background music playing in the cafe, but when the song changes and the familiar tune invades her ears, she wishes she could have remained unaware. Instead, she tries to refrain from groaning audibly.

Cargo Jacket's eyes flicker happily around the Starbucks when he hears what she hears, as if he's… excited to hear the stupid "Dasani" song begin its first verse. "Ugh," she groans aloud this time. "Just what I needed tonight."

A thick black eyebrow juts up and there's laughter in his tone when he says, "Not a fan?"

Annabeth's fingers clench around her cold coffee. "This is my Starbucks. My sanctuary. They can't take over here, too-I've already given up the commons room in my dorm, but I will not stand for this band to ruin coffee shops for me."

"Not a fan." It's not a question this time, but his eyes still sparkle like something is deeply amusing to him.

"No," she confirms. "Not in the least."

His tongue flicks out as he guides his straw to his mouth and Annabeth averts her eyes. She hears the smile in his voice. "Interesting…"

There's something rising inside of her, as if she has to explain herself. Especially as the song continues on quietly, pressing into her. "I don't understand why everyone's been so obsessed with them lately." They're fairly new to the music charts, but that hasn't stopped them from topping them these past few weeks. "Their music isn't even original. Any other teenage punk rock wannaband could come up with some of the lyrics these guys spit out."

He flinches, letting out a low whistle before whispering, "Brutal."

She's not done. "What kind of band names themselves after bottled water?"

"That's the best part!" he argues. Obviously, he's a fan. "It took Dasani a long time to choose a band name. The process is not as easy as it sounds."

"Bottled water."

Sighing like she's a lost cause, he rubs a hand over his mouth. She notices that he's smothering a smile. "What kind of music do you like, then?"

For a moment she lets herself consider, but the answer's pretty simple. "Meaningful music." He gives her a look that says 'go on', so she continues. "Words that make you stop to think. Songs that aren't distracting with loud drums or repetitive lyrics. Throaty voices with rough edges. Music that wants to tell stories. That's what I like."

He looks at her differently now, not with amusement, but with something a little deeper. A little warmer. "I think that's fair," he says. He looks impressed.

"Dasani just doesn't have that. I'm tired of bands being idolized just because they're loud and hot." Frustration wells inside her; truly, she doesn't care what people listen to. But she wishes her kind of songs would play on the radio, or in her favorite coffee shops.

"You think we're hot?" he asks in pleased surprise, but she's not really listening.

Her laptop screen glares at her in the dim lighting of the cafe, essay remaining dry and painful to sit through. But she's long past trying to convince herself to keep working on it and ignoring the handsome specimen of a person sitting at her table-even if he has horrible taste in drinks and bands. When he talks this time, she listens. "What would Dasani have to do to change your mind?"

She doesn't know why it matters. Doesn't know why she's bothering to think up a genuine answer for this stranger. But she does. "If they made music they actually cared about, I'd give them a shot."

"What if they do? What if you've just never heard it?" He's swirling what's left of his frappe in its plastic cup, distributing the double chocolaty chip to the bits of flavorless ice. His eyes stay on his hands, not meeting hers.

"I guess I'd have to hear it for myself first."

He looks up then, and his smile has a secret hidden beneath it.

For the second time that night she hears the door swing open, youthful laughter following its trail. Three girls step in, shaking the snow from their hats and scarves while they happily chirp amongst themselves and step up to the barista. They order steaming lattes, and Annabeth offers the boy in front of her a meaningful look.

Frozen Drink is about to say something before he's interrupted by a hissed, "No way…" His expression tells her he knows what's about to come, and he's not entirely put off by it. Before Annabeth has time to react, the three girls are crowded around her table, animatedly talking in high pitched voices. The only coherent sentence she catches is, "I can't believe it's you!"

Her confusion is at an all time high, even higher when the girls thrust a brown Starbucks napkin at the boy sitting in front of her, demanding autographs and asking for it to be made out to "my biggest fan."

He chuckles good-naturedly, appeasing their will and signing the napkins with a Sharpie one of the girls borrowed from the barista. Who, herself, has now leaned across the counter, calling out, "I thought it might be you, but I couldn't be sure!"

One of the girls looks like she's about to faint, her face red and her forehead dotted with sweat. "We'd all heard rumors you were going to school here, but totally didn't think we'd be that lucky. I mean, you're Percy Jackson."

Annabeth has so many questions, none of them answered. She wants to ask why these girls are asking her cute guy for an autograph. Why they're invading her Starbucks and interrupting her time with… Percy Jackson. She doesn't recognize his name or face, but obviously they do, and that's making her annoyed... and somewhat nervous.

Percy talks to them for a few minutes, but after he's finished having his picture taken and answering the questions about his album and upcoming shows, he politely sends them off, telling them he's in the middle of something with a glance and a quick smile sent Annabeth's way. She ignores the fact that her face heats up in response.

It's only when the girls are walking out that it hits Annabeth with the force of a freight train. And it's only after she catches sight of the "biggest fan's" t-shirt.

Dasani: 2015 Tour, New York, NY.

Of course, this doesn't mean that Percy's… That this boy that she's been talking to is… Ranting to…He couldn't be.

Annabeth isn't as lucky as she'd hoped.

Sitting across from her, Percy's got a smile on his face that's far too wide. "Now, what were we talking about?"

"I don't remember," she lies quickly, closing her laptop and packing it into her bag.

His hands reach out to stop her. He's grinning. "I do."

"I don't want to."

"I do."

She shoves his hands away, dropping her head and groaning. "Please don't tell me that's your band."

Laughing warmly, he once again takes hold of her hands, moving them away from her face and resting them on the table with his. He nods. "I even named us."

She groans again.

The amusement from before finally makes sense, and she wants to cringe. "Were you just going to let me go on and on about how much your band sucks? Or did you have plans to stop me at some point?" Any point.

"I had plans to change your mind, actually." He's looking at her with that warmth again; she doesn't know if she can handle the power of those green eyes because something inside of her feels like it's melting under the heat. "I still do." His fingers tangle with hers and again she feels herself blush. "There're a lot of our songs that we can't put out; most of them, actually. I'd love to show you the music we care about."

Her heart stumbles a little in her chest and she tries not to look so embarrassed. "I'm sorry," she mutters.

"Don't be. I'm glad I got some genuine feedback. Stung a little bit, but now I'm just determined to change your mind, actually." He then adds, "And Dasani is a great name, by the way."

"It's not." She won't apologize for this.

His green eyes twinkle again. "In one night, you've insulted my Starbucks order, my band and my music. I must be crazy for liking you so much already."

She chokes a little, probably on nothing, but if he asks she'll say she was chewing gum. "You were crazy when you named your band after bottled water."

"So I guess I've got nothing to lose," he states happily. He lets go of her hands to gather up their empty cups, tossing them in a bin behind his chair. "What's your name? Since now you definitely know mine."

"Annabeth," she says, then adds, "And I'm not in a band, in case you were wondering."

"Good to know."

"Yeah, you'd think it would be."

He stands up, offering her his hand once again. "I want to play music for you, Annabeth. Meaningful music, if you'd let me. Are you free… right now?"

Glancing at her laptop in her bag, she thinks about her essay. It won't get any better while she's off running around with this Percy guy, but for the first time, she thinks the band named after bottled water might be more important. She takes his hand.

"This better be good," she jokes lightly. For some reason, she has a feeling it will be.

He lets out that secret smile. "It already is."

thanks for reading! hope you liked it!