ꜱᴘɪᴅᴇʀ ʙɪᴛᴇꜱ: ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴄᴀʙᴇᴛʜ/ꜱᴏʟᴀɴɢᴇʟᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ

ᴠɪɪ ᴡɪʟʟ | ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ʜᴇ'ᴅ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏ (ʜᴇ ꜱᴇᴇꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏ)

Will misses having fun. Like, a lot. He's excited about his career starting to go places, obviously. What kind of a pre-med student wouldn't want to intern alongside some of the best doctors in the country? And gods, his classes at UCLA are some of the most interesting he's ever taken.

But still. He used to have fun in college when his undergrad nursing classes were nothing he hadn't heard before. Will never even had to read out of the textbook before going to class. Now he's in the real world, and he can't just put on some sunglasses and show up hungover, especially since his days start at two in the morning and end around lunchtime. It's a nice little life he has, but nothing ever changes. He goes to his internship at the hospital, gets off around ten, does the grocery shopping, puts gas in the car, and comes home to leftover Hooters food, courtesy of Annabeth.

Oh, Annabeth. Will's very thankful to have a roommate; it makes living in L.A. more affordable and less lonely. But Annabeth? If you'd asked him ten years ago how likely he was to see her waking up hungover after a one-night stand with a guy dressed up as Marty McFly, he'd laugh and say you were crazy. But now...

What happened to her? She was going to be an architect. Hell, she redesigned Olympus. Should Will be worried about her?

The answer is no, he doesn't need to worry. Will realized Annabeth was a wreck the day she crashed his chariot, and that hasn't changed. Annabeth Chase might be a hot mess, but she seems more comfortable with herself now than she ever was when they were teenagers. She lives under a different set of rules than she did before, and that's fine by Will. The refrigerator sangria speaks for itself. Living with a bartender certainly has its perks, he thinks as he pours a drink, dropping a couple of extra raspberries in for good measure.

"Pour me one, will ya?" Annabeth calls from the couch. Will pours another sangria. Mondays are the best. Annabeth doesn't have to go in to work for her usual evening shift and Will doesn't have to wake up early and go to the hospital the following day, so they can spend time together and get drunk on the couch while watching trashy romantic comedies.

"Any requests?" Annabeth points the remote at the television.

"Hmm..." Will thinks aloud. "Do you feel like crying tonight? Or do you feel like talking through the whole movie?"

"Better go with something we've already seen," she says. "I don't feel like watching you cry tonight."

"Ouch. But valid." Will takes a sip of his drink. Annabeth's is half-empty already. He smiles at the sight. There's no Annabeth like Drunk Annabeth. Drunk Annabeth has no filter, and spills all of Sober Annabeth's secrets.

"Do we have any White Claw?" Annabeth asks.

"I dunno. Finish the sangria and then we'll see."

"Ouch. But valid." Annabeth mocks Will and hits play. They're watching The Princess Bride. They both hate that movie with a burning passion, which makes it even more fun to get drunk during.

After a couple of drinks, Will retrieves their shared laptop from his room. "You know what we haven't done in a while?" His speech is slurred.

Annabeth rolls her eyes. "He never posts, Will. What makes you think he will tonight?" She shows very few signs of drunkenness, but he knows it's affecting her.

Will logs on to Annabeth's Instagram account (because what are friends for? Of course Annabeth follows Nico di Angelo).

"Don't like anything while you're on there," she warns.

"Oh. My. Goodness." On-screen are the cutest puppies Will has ever seen in his entire life.

"What?" Annabeth pulls the pink can tab off of her White Claw and tosses it on the pile atop the coffee table.

Will remembers when they brought that table home. They were making an emergency run to CVS and took the long route through the neighborhoods because "All Too Well" was on the radio and Will needed to have a good cry. Then right at the climax of the song, Annabeth screamed 'pull over!', so Will pulled over, and they put down the backseats and picked up a perfectly good coffee table from the side of the road.

"Look here." Will clicks on Drew Tanaka's profile to get a better view.

Annabeth scrunches her nose. "Looks like Mrs. O'Leary got knocked up. Speaking of getting knocked up, the pregnancy test I took last week came up negative."

Thank you for those words of wisdom, Drunk Annabeth. Wisdom's daughter, my ass, Will thinks. It looks like Drew posted quite a few pictures. There's one of her cuddling an unusually small hellhound, and one of a hellhound puppy wearing a sweater.

"Wow, Drew looks great!" Will says. It's true; her makeup is a lot more toned down than how she wore it years ago, and she actually looks like someone he might want to hang out with. Her smile is kind and inviting. He can't believe that she's the same person who had the nerve to stick ice cubes down Clarisse's bra all those years ago.

Annabeth mumbles something incoherent. Will decides not to decipher it. He doesn't like the few words he did manage to catch.

Drew posted a video too. The puppies look so cute running around in the grass. Then the camera pans over to a short lean guy wearing a wife-beater tank top and black jeans. Will can't believe he almost doesn't recognize Nico. He looks different. His dark black hair is now long enough that he has half of it pulled up into a bun, and he's playing and having fun...with little kids. Nico hates kids, right?

Forget the little kids; Nico is hanging out with Drew Tanaka.

"Annabeth..." Will has to shake her back to reality. "It's Nico. Look."

Annabeth looks at the video for a split second, definitely not long enough to actually see anything, and then cups Will's face in her hands. "No matter how bad you feel, remember that you're not twenty-six and a counselor at Camp Half-Blood," she says intensely, staring him down with her dull grey eyes. Then she starts to sing: "You've got to press it on you... you just think it, that's what you do babayyyyy..."

Screw it. Annabeth Chase is a genius. Will's not sure what she just said, but she's right.

He Googles those lyrics just to be safe. It's a Gorillaz song called "DARE". What could that mean? He knows someone with the last name 'Dare'. Will squints his eyes and thinks really, really hard: Rachel, are you trying to communicate with me through Drunk Annabeth?

Of course not. They're both pretty drunk. Annabeth giggles and wraps her arms around Will. She rests her head on his chest. Will smiles. Selfishly, he likes being the one with common sense.

"Goodnight, Annabeth," he whispers. He can't reach the remote, so he has to watch the rest of the movie. By the time the credits roll, both of them are out cold.