Chapter Text
It was 4:32 a.m. when her knee hit the mattress.
I cracked one eye open, already grinning. You know my mom would’ve just opened the door if you knocked, right?
Annabeth crouched over me in the dark, curls escaping the braid she probably hadn’t touched since yesterday. Her eyes gleamed — hunter-sharp, smug, like she’d won some unspoken challenge just by being here.
Where’s the fun in that?
Before I could answer, she swung a leg over, straddling my waist with practiced ease, pressing one cold hand to my chest just to make me flinch. She smirked when I did.
You missed me that bad?
I murmured, my voice rough from sleep.
She didn’t answer immediately. She just leaned down, kissed my jaw once, then again — slower this time, letting it linger. My hands twitched against her hips, already moving on instinct.
It was a long Sunday,
she said softly, lips brushing my ear. You weren’t there to argue with me.
Oh,
I said, trying to sound serious, but my grin gave me away. So you climbed the fire escape to pick a fight at dawn?
No.
She tugged the covers down, sliding her hands under my shirt. Her nails dragged lightly up my stomach, making me shiver. I came to make you earn your peace offering in advance.
I groaned, half-laughing, half-ready to combust. You’re evil.
Genius,
she corrected, already kissing down my neck, slow and deliberate. Her curls tickled my cheek, her breath warm against my collarbone.
I caught her hips, pulling her closer until she was pressed flush against me. You climbed a fire escape at four in the morning because you missed my—
Yes,
she cut in, breath catching. I missed all of you. So shut up and let me.
So I did.
The covers tangled around us in seconds. Her tank top slid up, and my hands found familiar skin — the kind I could navigate in the dark, in sleep, in dreams. She gasped when my fingers skimmed up her sides, her nails digging into my shoulders like she didn’t care if she left marks.
We moved slow — quietly, but not that quiet — like we knew we had hours. Like the walls would hold. And they always did.
Annabeth’s breath hitched when I flipped her under me, her braid falling loose against the pillow. She bit back a laugh, her hands tugging me down again.
Still think I’m gonna be calm during breakfast?
I whispered against her neck, my lips brushing the spot that always made her squirm.
Not my problem,
she whispered back, her voice soft and wicked. I’ll be gone by six.
I kissed her shoulder, couldn’t help smiling against her skin. Gods, I love you.
Annabeth tilted her head, looking at me with that smile — the one that made everything else in the world feel like background noise. Then show me,
she said, pulling me closer until her legs wrapped around me. You’ve got forty-five minutes.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful for thick walls.