Percy Jackson: 31 Days: To the Promised Land
Title: To the Promised Land
Rating: K+
Day/Theme: February 6th: Constructive destruction gives the best kind of hard-on
Series: Percy Jackson and the Olympians
Character/Pairing: Annabeth (Percy/Annabeth)
Summary: It hurts to watch them tear down Olympus
A/N: Written for 31_days. Spoilers for TLO. It's past midnight here.
Working as the Official Architect of Olympus is kind of her greatest dream come true, one of those distant fantasies that always seemed too silly, too impossible for her to give real weight to. Except now it’s happened, and Annabeth is spending as much time as she can spare on the project. She’s starting to think Percy’s getting sick of her laptop and sketch pads, because she’s seen the way he frowns when he spots them in her backpack or spread across her bed, noticed how his eyes glaze over if she goes on about her plans for too long.
He doesn’t complain though, because he knows how important this is to her, and she loves him for it. It keeps her busy, with gods sending her random requests throughout the day - Apollo spells out wishes in clouds for her, Demeter makes flowers talk, while Hesphaestus favors text messages - and she wants everything to look perfect once it’s done.
There’s only one issue with the whole process, something she never foresaw; at first she’s so wrapped up in the work that she pushes it aside, but as clearing the rubble and planning the new buildings continues Annabeth can’t ignore it anymore.
It hurts to watch them tear down Olympus.
Every step is a flash back to that last stand at the end - here is where Percy pulled me back onto stable ground, here is where Hera’s statue pinned Thalia - but it’s particularly painful in the throne room. She can feel it in every cell of her body, that same weariness and pain she’d felt that night, the desperation to save Luke, the terror that Kronos might win. Sometimes her entire right arm aches with the memory:
This is where Luke died. This is where Luke died.
The only saving grace is the walk back to the elevator, when she remembers the elation of victory and the steady weight of Percy walking beside her.
Luckily, they’re far enough in their relationship that she doesn’t need to ask permission to kiss him anymore; when she leaves Mt. Olympus she goes straight to him, wraps her arms around his neck, and kisses him until he’s breathless. When she kisses him in that frantic way he looks at her with the same shine in his eyes that she noticed as she swore to Luke Castellan that he was her brother.
Sometimes he breaks away to cup her face, stroke the pads of his thumbs over her cheekbones, and ask in a quiet, husky voice, “How was Olympus?”
She never answers his question. Instead she smiles and reaches for him again. “I’m glad you’re here.”
They kiss again, faces flushed and limbs tangled. He never presses the issue.
That’s how she knows he feels the same.
Rating: K+
Day/Theme: February 6th: Constructive destruction gives the best kind of hard-on
Series: Percy Jackson and the Olympians
Character/Pairing: Annabeth (Percy/Annabeth)
Summary: It hurts to watch them tear down Olympus
A/N: Written for 31_days. Spoilers for TLO. It's past midnight here.
Working as the Official Architect of Olympus is kind of her greatest dream come true, one of those distant fantasies that always seemed too silly, too impossible for her to give real weight to. Except now it’s happened, and Annabeth is spending as much time as she can spare on the project. She’s starting to think Percy’s getting sick of her laptop and sketch pads, because she’s seen the way he frowns when he spots them in her backpack or spread across her bed, noticed how his eyes glaze over if she goes on about her plans for too long.
He doesn’t complain though, because he knows how important this is to her, and she loves him for it. It keeps her busy, with gods sending her random requests throughout the day - Apollo spells out wishes in clouds for her, Demeter makes flowers talk, while Hesphaestus favors text messages - and she wants everything to look perfect once it’s done.
There’s only one issue with the whole process, something she never foresaw; at first she’s so wrapped up in the work that she pushes it aside, but as clearing the rubble and planning the new buildings continues Annabeth can’t ignore it anymore.
It hurts to watch them tear down Olympus.
Every step is a flash back to that last stand at the end - here is where Percy pulled me back onto stable ground, here is where Hera’s statue pinned Thalia - but it’s particularly painful in the throne room. She can feel it in every cell of her body, that same weariness and pain she’d felt that night, the desperation to save Luke, the terror that Kronos might win. Sometimes her entire right arm aches with the memory:
This is where Luke died. This is where Luke died.
The only saving grace is the walk back to the elevator, when she remembers the elation of victory and the steady weight of Percy walking beside her.
Luckily, they’re far enough in their relationship that she doesn’t need to ask permission to kiss him anymore; when she leaves Mt. Olympus she goes straight to him, wraps her arms around his neck, and kisses him until he’s breathless. When she kisses him in that frantic way he looks at her with the same shine in his eyes that she noticed as she swore to Luke Castellan that he was her brother.
Sometimes he breaks away to cup her face, stroke the pads of his thumbs over her cheekbones, and ask in a quiet, husky voice, “How was Olympus?”
She never answers his question. Instead she smiles and reaches for him again. “I’m glad you’re here.”
They kiss again, faces flushed and limbs tangled. He never presses the issue.
That’s how she knows he feels the same.