Summary: They say that having a baby is a beautiful blessing. Yeah, right. Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase have only nine months to prepare.

Warning: Awkward situations, possible ruthless language, OOC, minor mistakes, and an angry Nico changing diapers in future chapters. (Also: each chapter, unless in parts, is one month of the pregnancy.)

"Percy Jackson" © Riordan.

Enjoy.

—dedicated to: Luna Ray.

Baby on Board

month i—part i: "suspicion"

Keep this in mind: Percy Jackson avoided over a thousand ways of looking stupid when his soon-to-be wife was pregnant.

Eh, sort of (not really).

Annabeth Chase wasn't feeling good.

Well, honestly, ever since she escaped from Tartarus four years ago with her fiancé and finally beat Gaea with the other six, she had not been feeling "good" at all. But this pain was a different type of pain. And it was annoying her. Come on, what was going on? And why wouldn't it stop? She sighed as she finished her breakfast: gummy worms.

Maybe it was that time of the month again.

"It's nothing," she reassured herself as she shook the thought aside.

Lost in her imagination, she walked across the arena that was newly constructed (by her, of course), waving at a group of demigods, and made her way to the Big House for a meeting about the creation of a new cabin. It was still early in the morning so barely any campers were awake, aside from a sparring class. They sky was a nice shade of blue, cloudless and all, with the sun shining down on them as though Apollo were trying to say something, but the view did not catch her attention.

All of a sudden, in a mere second, a serious wave of nausea hit her like a thundering tsunami and before could realize what she was doing, the girl's restroom welcomed her with open arms as she started hurling the gummy worms down a toilet inside the first stall, crouching down on the porcelain floor. The taste was horrible.

A person entered the restroom. "Annabeth, is that you?" Her voice was familiar. Though her vision became somewhat unclear, she could still see the silver tiara, and those electrifying blue eyes. It was Thalia Grace.

The spawn of Athena replied with another round of spilling her guts out.

"Whoa . . . what's going on?" Covering her nose, the daughter of Zeus slowly leaned over and gave her friend a pat on the back. "Are you sick?"

She looked up and tried to meet Thalia's eyes. "I don't know," she stammered.

"Wait, Gummy worms? Why are you eating gummy worms?" Assuming that was the reason of this distress and before any protesting could begin, the unfinished bag was quickly thrown away and pretty soon, after the sound of the toilet flushing, they were heading out of the restroom. "I am taking you to the infirmary."

"No, I can't go. There's a meeting that's starting—"

"Annabeth," the Lieutenant of Artemis snapped. "You are clearly sick. Come on. What's wrong, anyways? By the looks of it, it's like you're suffering from morning sickness." She snickered at the thought.

Annabeth could only manage a cough.

The stick had turned positive.

For a moment the color blinded Annabeth but due to her heart being caught in her throat, she couldn't say what was on her mind so she just sat there looking like an oblivious boy with two girls fighting over him. And that was something that never happened. She squinted but saw nothing but pink.

Hera truly hated her.

"Wait, what?" Thalia demanded as she wrested the pregnancy test away. She looked at the kid of Apollo who had suggested that Annabeth take it, whatever his name was. "So, an actual baby? Like, a living organism is starting to form," she tried not to yell as she pointed at Annabeth's stomach, "in there? She is pregnant?"

"Yes, Ms. Grace, she is pregnant. And actually, babies form in the womb," he corrected. "Also, if you want to keep this a secret, I suggest you calm down before someone hears."

"I can't believe this. A baby Percabeth." She threw her hands in the hair before glaring at him. "I am not an imbecile."

Annabeth stood up. Her stormy gray eyes, slowly starting to pop out of her head, grew intense and calculating as she tried to read him. "Are you sure this is real? These results might be false. I will not trust a stick!"

"You could always see a professional," he offered, looking down as he did not want to meet her eyes; evil eyes that could stare into his soul. He adjusted his glasses.

"When did Percy knock you up?" Thalia interjected.

Before she could receive any answer, Annabeth was already out the door.

There was nothing but black; the color exploited hatred and shallowness and emptiness and fear, no escape from what was to happen for there was no fear, light, or trust. And then red began to slowly drip into the scene under the guise of blood. It dripped from the corner of the mouth of Sally Jackson as her soul was slowly fading away, her hand reaching out at someone: Annabeth. The girl was running, sprinting faster than she had ever done before, but no matter what, she couldn't get closer. And then there was a scream.

She then woke up, whimpering. Her breathing became very heavy as she panted, wiping a bead of sweat off her face. The shape of her pale face, the distant look in her eyes, her spirit destroyed—it seemed too real.

These nightmares were just getting even more horrendous with each passing night.

"Hey, what happened?" Percy asked as he placed his hand on her shoulder.

Due to Camp growing and needing more cabins, they now shared an apartment, and therefore, the same bed because Percy complained that buying two would be too much, or so that was his reason. (Yes, ladies and gentleman, they do sleep together.) It had brought them a tighter bond, as well as more bills to pay off, weapons plastered everywhere, and fights over what their dinner should had been for the night. Food; that sounded good now. But Annabeth tried to fight off the temptation, as that was not the problem that needed an immediate answer.

Weeks ago, they mirrored the same moment as this one, which was quickly followed by an intensely beautiful scene that always came back to her. In her mind, the anxiety, awkwardness and passion composed itself into one measure played over and over as she recalled his words: "I promise."

(A promise for what, exactly?)

Looking back, it seemed so cliché.

Annabeth looked away as Percy frowned. She sighed. "Percy, I need to see the doctor."

"About what? What's wrong? We could just go to the infirmary and see what they say—"

"I already went to the infirmary today—Thalia brought me," Annabeth interjected. "I just . . . need to make sure about something."

Percy looked puzzled and worried. What was so important that caused wrinkles to appear across her forehead? Was she injured or hurt? Oh, if someone messed with his girl, Percy would have killed them the minute he saw their face, despite the fact that Annabeth could just pulverize them all on her own. Overprotective? Oh, yes. There was a silence as Percy waited for Annabeth to say what was on her mind.

"P—Percy . . . I don't know how to say this,"

"Just spill it out. I'm getting my boxers all tied up."

She released a reluctant sigh before muttering, "You're not going to take it well."

Percy pouted. "Not going to take what well? Babe, I've fought multiple titans with monsters as side dishes, became the Hero of Olympus, saved the gods and humanity, dealt with you—"

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Oh, Hades. Now that was a wrong move.

" . . . Dealt with . . . your beauty," Percy corrected himself before she could smack him.

She just sighed. His attempt at correcting himself was sad.

"Percy, I think I'm pregnant."

Thank you for reading.