The Heroes of Olympus Drabble Meme
To celebrate the upcoming release The Lost Hero and the start of the new Heroes of Olympus series, pjo_fic_battle is deviating from its usual prompt battle form to host a drabble meme!
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“Okay. What’s at ten thirty?”
“My exhibition’s today. You both said you’d come.”
“Didn’t you say eleven?”
“I was just checking you were still coming.”
“Why wouldn’t we be?”
“It’s Sunday morning.”
Percy kind of collapses on top of Annabeth then, his shoulders shaking as he laughs, breathless, into her breastbone. Minutes later, when he finally has enough breath in his body to form a whole sentence, he says into the phone, “A necessary precaution, as it turns out.”
“Well, yeah,” Rachel agrees, sounding less than impressed, “You two aren’t the most subtle people I’ve ever met.”
“What are you two talking about?” Annabeth demands, tugging the phone back. “Rachel?”
But it’s Percy who answers, “Rachel knows neither of us works on Sundays.”
“So?”
“And she, ah, knows us well enough to speculate about what we do do on Sunday mornings... when neither of us works.”
“Oh. God.”
“Annabeth, I’m so sorry,” comes Rachel’s rushed response and Annabeth can imagine a pink flush rising in the redhead’s freckled cheeks. “I promise it’s not my fault I know way too much about your sex life. Blame your shameless boyfriend. Actually, it’s your fault as well. You guys are so obvious.”
Annabeth’s shameless boyfriend wrestles the phone from her hand to counter, “It’s not my fault you wanted this Oracle gig and have to live through other people.”
“I feel dirty, Percy Jackson,” Rachel whines.
“So do I.”
“Oh, go tell some terrified kid he’s doomed to failure, Oracle Girl,” Percy says into the phone.
“Oh fuck off.”
“Will do. ‘Bye.”
“See you soon. Remember, elev-” Annabeth hears Rachel start to remind them, but Percy’s already hit the end button, tossed the phone under the bed and dipped his head to suck at her collarbone.
“Percy! I can’t believe you. You have no - shame,” she reprimands, but that thing he’s doing with his tongue and his teeth to her throat is interfering with her righteous disapproval so doesn’t sound nearly as outraged as she intends.
“It’s just Rachel,” he shrugs, taking his mouth off her skin - earning himself a reproachful whine - to look down at her, his eyebrows raised.
“But still.”
“Chill out, Wise Girl. We have fifteen minutes before we need to leave. D’you really wanna waste it telling me off?”
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