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Annabeth is probably the last person who could be considered an authority on what passes as ‘normal’, but even she knows this isn’t working.
“Act natural.” Thalia had told them, as she grabbed a baffled looking Grover by the elbow. “You know, blend in. Like you’re undercover.”
Annabeth had considered following them straight to the dance floor, but Percy had other ideas. “Hey, look. There’s the snacks table.” He’d glanced over at her for agreement. “Good place to keep a look out, right?”
She’d shrugged. “As good as any.” They’d wound their way through the groups of teenagers, some seated at circular tables draped in glittery cloth, blazers flung over the backs of their seats; others standing around in clumps with disposable, punch-filled cups in hand. This was only the second school dance she’d ever been to (and probably the last), but she’d tried not to think too much about that as she’d scanned the room for signs of trouble. They were on a mission, after all. Her being in a pretty, impractical dress didn’t change that.
The moment they’d reached the table, Percy had snatched a cupcake from a tiered stand. She’d been unable to fight back a smile when she’d caught a glimpse of the blue icing before it vanished into his mouth. He loved all things blue, especially when it came to food. It was just one of the many little things she had learned over the last two summers that made him who he was. And Annabeth remembered every single one.
“You want one?” He’d asked, reaching for another.
She'd shook her head, and he’d shrugged, inhaling a second cake. The way boys her age seemed to have bottomless pits for stomachs never ceased to amaze her. Crossing her arms over her chest, she’d turned away to survey the room, double checking that the DiAngelo siblings were still there, once, then twice. Next to her, Percy had stopped snacking and started doing the exact same thing. It was then that it’d occurred to her how out of place they must look.
Now, she leans back against the table, trying to appear more casual, tapping her friend on the elbow with the back of her hand to get his attention.
He looks over at her. “You okay?”
“Can you stop trying to be James Bond and start trying to look more like a normal kid at a middle school dance?” It came out harsher than she’d intended and she winces internally at her tone.
Percy looks more surprised than annoyed. “You know who James Bond is?”
“My dad likes spy movies.”
“Huh. So, what about you? Do you like them?”
“I don’t know.. Maybe. Sometimes. They can be fun.”
He grins, and it makes her heart flutter and hurt at the same time. How many more of those smiles was she gonna get?
“I knew it. I just knew you’d end up liking movies eventually.”
“I never said I didn’t like movies, Seaweed Brain, I just said I didn’t like Jaws.”
“Well, maybe you just need to watch it again. But with me this time.” He’s wearing that stupid smirk again, and Annabeth finds that she has to look away.
When she doesn’t respond, he clears his throat, and she takes a step away, looking over the room again, her eyes settling on Thalia and Grover, who were still doing a slightly awkward shuffle round the space cleared for the dance floor. She should talk to Percy again now, really talk to him, before something happens like it always does, and they’re too busy trying not to get killed to have a real conversation. But every time she thinks about it, the words get caught in her throat.
“Hey, have you ever danced at one of these before?” She says instead, quickly, before she can talk herself out of it.
Percy blinks at her. “No, I um.. I’ve never really had anyone to ask.” He hesitates for a moment, like he wants to say something more. But he doesn’t
“Me neither.” Annabeth says quietly.
And if she doesn’t now, she never will. Especially not with Percy. And besides, they were supposed to be blending in, right? And this was a dance.
Her hands suddenly feel moist and clammy. She smooths them over her dress, but the material feels too smooth and delicate against her touch and she’s not sure it’s helping.
She glances over at Percy’s hand, where it hangs limply at his side, only a few inches from hers. She thinks about all the times that hand had clasped hers, all the times they’d pulled each other up. Pulled each other back.
And so she reaches out again for him, one last time.
It takes her by surprise. The ease with which her fingers slide between his, his hand instantaneously tightening around hers, gentle but firm. As solid as anything she's ever felt.
“Annabeth, what are you-” He asks in shock as she tugs him away from the food. But he lets himself be led.
“Come on! We’re just blending in.” She says without looking back at him, trying to inject confidence into her voice. Which is difficult, because her heart is pounding in her ears so loudly she can barely hear the tempo of the soft pop song blaring over the speakers of the school gym.
His skin is soft. She wasn’t expecting it to be that soft. His thumb brushes over her knuckles a little as they walk, and it takes every bit of her willpower not to look back at him.
Annabeth lets go once they’re in the middle of the dance floor, missing the feel of Percy's hand in hers almost immediately. She turns to face him, expecting that he’ll at least have some idea what he’s doing, but judging from the way he’s glancing around at the other couples…he doesn’t.
And he was supposed to be the one who’s good at all this mortal stuff.
So she has to take the initiative. She grasps for his hands again, settles them on her waist. He looks at her, startled, readjusting his hold as she reaches up to place her hands on his shoulders, flexing her fingers against the material of his suit jacket. Even with the uncomfortable heels she’s wearing, he’s still annoyingly tall.
There’s still a lot of space between them, and she wonders if she should move a little closer. But it would probably just make things weird. He’s already not meeting her eyes, but at least he’s swaying to the music in time with her.
“Percy.” She says, softly, when the awkward silence starts to get a little too long. “It’s just dancing, it’s not rocket science. Don’t overthink it.”
“Easy for you to say.” He mumbles, finally looking at her. “You’re probably a genius at rocket science. Like you are at everything.”
Annabeth raises her eyebrows at him, trying not to smile. “You think I’m a genius?”
“Yeah, and you think I’m an idiot. That’s how this works, Wise Girl.”
“I don’t really think you’re an idiot, Percy. You know that right?” He must know that. He has to know that. She’ll really, really regret it if he doesn’t.
He smiles, the corners of his mouth lifting up slowly, pink and blue lights dancing over his face. “Yeah, Annabeth. I know.”
She realises then, with a jolt, several things at once.
The first is that they’ve subconsciously drifted closer as they talked, close enough that she can count the freckles on Percy’s face. The second is that she can feel the warmth of his hands even through the material of her dress, and she doesn’t hate that feeling. She doesn't hate it at all. The third is that he looks more handsome in a suit than she’d ever be willing to admit aloud to anyone, least of all Percy himself.
And the last is that absolutely none of that matters in the slightest.
She takes in a deep, careful breath, like the last gulp of air before diving under the waves.
“Percy… I need to talk to you about something."