Drabble for pjo_fic_battle
Title: Nervous? You bet…
Characters/pairing: Percy/Annabeth
Rating: G
Word count: 907
Summary: Written for pjo_fic_battle prompt ‘proposal’. Self explanatory. Fluff cheesiness ahead. You have been warned. Written in a hurry and unbeta'd
Disclaimer: obviously, I do not own any part of this.
It’s not that Percy was unsure about what he wanted. Every time he looked into her glittering grey eyes, heard her methodically explain some concept he had no inking of, or woke up with her snuggled into his side, all he could think was: ‘I want her with me and make her happy for the rest of my life.’ He could see himself with Annabeth, years and years from now, both grey and wrinkled as she rolls her eyes and calls him ‘Seaweed Brain’ in that exasperated tone of hers. He couldn’t imagine anyone else doing that; he didn’t know how he’d live if he didn’t have that. Isn’t this the general feeling that prompted blokes to go down on one knee and… you know, pop the question?
It’s not that Percy thinks Annabeth would refuse. He only needs to think of the way her face lights up and softens when she sees him to know that. That’s not to mention the times they have been through mortal peril - even after the Battle of Manhattan - came out at the end of it alive and none the worse for wear, and she’d hold onto him for dear life as if she thought she’s never seen him again. Even though logically, she knew he was invulnerable, she’d caress that spot in the small of his back, sending sparks of… feeling through him (it’s much too complicated for him to describe), as if to make sure it was okay, it was intact, so he was okay, he was there with her.
He knew he could never leave her, and she would leave him when Hades freezes over (actually, not even then).
Then, why oh why, was he so damned nervous about this? He had absolutely no clue. He’s gone and searched for the perfect pearl from the Atlantic. It’s sitting there perfectly safe in his pocket set into the perfect ring. (Rachel had interrogated the descriptions out of Annabeth while she was coaxed into one of her extremely rare but spectacularly drunk spells.) If he could ask Annabeth, she would probably tell him his kelp-filled brain wasn’t functioning properly, that of course she would say ‘yes’, because she loved him, and he was her Seaweed Brain.
When Percy blurted out the question of why he was so nervous about the question, what Annabeth in fact said was: ‘Um, because you’re a normal guy with insecurities? Alright, you’re not the most normal guy around, per se, but you know, I’m fairly certain all guys would be a bit jittery, Hero of Olympus or not.’
Gods help him, he should have expected that she couldn’t resist teasing him.
Percy cleared his throat, trying to salvage a bit of dignity in the situation. They’d been sitting on a fallen log in the forest in between training sessions, and Annabeth was looking around at anything but him, seemingly finding their surroundings extremely interesting all of a sudden. It was a bit odd, but Percy wasn’t deterred by her inattention. He took hold of her hand and gently tugged her so she would look into his eyes. He wanted them both to be properly serious for this.
‘Annabeth…’ He ventured breathlessly, and had to stop here to swallow, ‘You know how I feel about you. I…’ Gods, he’d gladly take on Kronos and his army right now. ‘I…I…’ love you more than life itself. I’d trade my soul for you. I’d rather have one lifetime with you than walk the world alone for eternity.
‘Shut up, Seaweed Brain.’
It was a phrase Annabeth used much too often for Percy’s liking, but she had never said it quite like now. She was slightly breathless too, and the phrase came out tenderly, as if she was faithfully wishing upon a star. She laid a gentle finger on his lips, her other arm curling around to cup his head.
‘I know, Percy, I know…’ You don’t have to say anything, my love. ‘And my answer is yes. Of course I’ll marry you. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I love you, I have loved you for so long I can’t possibly be anyone else’s. And you’re my Seaweed Brain.’
Percy couldn’t believe Annabeth said that. Annabeth herself couldn’t believe it. She felt self conscious now - she was never too comfortable with declarations of love - her cheeks were starting to heat up. So she kissed him, gently first, light as the first spring rain, then more deeply, and the heat in her cheeks became an entirely different kind.
Annabeth could feel Percy’s smile against her lips as his arms came around her waist, holding her to him ever tighter till suddenly, he lifts her up in his arms, the feeling so utterly normal and right and blissful it surprised her.
As he sprung her around and they both laughed without a care in the world, Percy thought to himself, this is what he wanted, what he needed, to make her laugh like this, to feel this rightness, to belong to her, and not the rest of the world, only to her.
Later, when Annabeth gazes almost dreamily upon the ring on the third finger of her left hand, she doesn’t recall Percy’s nervousness. All she remembers is that sense of everything finally settling into the place they’re supposed to be; finally she is utterly and wonderfully content and Percy’s in the exact same place as she is.
Characters/pairing: Percy/Annabeth
Rating: G
Word count: 907
Summary: Written for pjo_fic_battle prompt ‘proposal’. Self explanatory. Fluff cheesiness ahead. You have been warned. Written in a hurry and unbeta'd
Disclaimer: obviously, I do not own any part of this.
It’s not that Percy was unsure about what he wanted. Every time he looked into her glittering grey eyes, heard her methodically explain some concept he had no inking of, or woke up with her snuggled into his side, all he could think was: ‘I want her with me and make her happy for the rest of my life.’ He could see himself with Annabeth, years and years from now, both grey and wrinkled as she rolls her eyes and calls him ‘Seaweed Brain’ in that exasperated tone of hers. He couldn’t imagine anyone else doing that; he didn’t know how he’d live if he didn’t have that. Isn’t this the general feeling that prompted blokes to go down on one knee and… you know, pop the question?
It’s not that Percy thinks Annabeth would refuse. He only needs to think of the way her face lights up and softens when she sees him to know that. That’s not to mention the times they have been through mortal peril - even after the Battle of Manhattan - came out at the end of it alive and none the worse for wear, and she’d hold onto him for dear life as if she thought she’s never seen him again. Even though logically, she knew he was invulnerable, she’d caress that spot in the small of his back, sending sparks of… feeling through him (it’s much too complicated for him to describe), as if to make sure it was okay, it was intact, so he was okay, he was there with her.
He knew he could never leave her, and she would leave him when Hades freezes over (actually, not even then).
Then, why oh why, was he so damned nervous about this? He had absolutely no clue. He’s gone and searched for the perfect pearl from the Atlantic. It’s sitting there perfectly safe in his pocket set into the perfect ring. (Rachel had interrogated the descriptions out of Annabeth while she was coaxed into one of her extremely rare but spectacularly drunk spells.) If he could ask Annabeth, she would probably tell him his kelp-filled brain wasn’t functioning properly, that of course she would say ‘yes’, because she loved him, and he was her Seaweed Brain.
When Percy blurted out the question of why he was so nervous about the question, what Annabeth in fact said was: ‘Um, because you’re a normal guy with insecurities? Alright, you’re not the most normal guy around, per se, but you know, I’m fairly certain all guys would be a bit jittery, Hero of Olympus or not.’
Gods help him, he should have expected that she couldn’t resist teasing him.
Percy cleared his throat, trying to salvage a bit of dignity in the situation. They’d been sitting on a fallen log in the forest in between training sessions, and Annabeth was looking around at anything but him, seemingly finding their surroundings extremely interesting all of a sudden. It was a bit odd, but Percy wasn’t deterred by her inattention. He took hold of her hand and gently tugged her so she would look into his eyes. He wanted them both to be properly serious for this.
‘Annabeth…’ He ventured breathlessly, and had to stop here to swallow, ‘You know how I feel about you. I…’ Gods, he’d gladly take on Kronos and his army right now. ‘I…I…’ love you more than life itself. I’d trade my soul for you. I’d rather have one lifetime with you than walk the world alone for eternity.
‘Shut up, Seaweed Brain.’
It was a phrase Annabeth used much too often for Percy’s liking, but she had never said it quite like now. She was slightly breathless too, and the phrase came out tenderly, as if she was faithfully wishing upon a star. She laid a gentle finger on his lips, her other arm curling around to cup his head.
‘I know, Percy, I know…’ You don’t have to say anything, my love. ‘And my answer is yes. Of course I’ll marry you. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I love you, I have loved you for so long I can’t possibly be anyone else’s. And you’re my Seaweed Brain.’
Percy couldn’t believe Annabeth said that. Annabeth herself couldn’t believe it. She felt self conscious now - she was never too comfortable with declarations of love - her cheeks were starting to heat up. So she kissed him, gently first, light as the first spring rain, then more deeply, and the heat in her cheeks became an entirely different kind.
Annabeth could feel Percy’s smile against her lips as his arms came around her waist, holding her to him ever tighter till suddenly, he lifts her up in his arms, the feeling so utterly normal and right and blissful it surprised her.
As he sprung her around and they both laughed without a care in the world, Percy thought to himself, this is what he wanted, what he needed, to make her laugh like this, to feel this rightness, to belong to her, and not the rest of the world, only to her.
Later, when Annabeth gazes almost dreamily upon the ring on the third finger of her left hand, she doesn’t recall Percy’s nervousness. All she remembers is that sense of everything finally settling into the place they’re supposed to be; finally she is utterly and wonderfully content and Percy’s in the exact same place as she is.