ꜱᴘɪᴅᴇʀ ʙɪᴛᴇꜱ: ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴄᴀʙᴇᴛʜ/ꜱᴏʟᴀɴɢᴇʟᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ

xʟɪ ᴘᴇʀᴄʏ | ᴘᴇʀᴄʏ ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇꜱ ꜱᴇʟꜰ-ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ

Man, she looks rough.

Will did a good job, Percy will be the first to hand it to him. The guy's gotten pretty good at his craft. She seems a lot better than she was when Nico dug her out of the minigolf windmill.

But still, Annabeth looks pretty rough.

Percy didn't like the look on Will's face. Is there something more to this that he doesn't know about? Because if there is, he should know about it.

Percy sits at the foot of the bed, watching as Annabeth dips in and out of consciousness. That's something that hasn't changed about her; even when sleeping, she's restless, lost in thought. She looks troubled, and Percy wishes for nothing more than to be able to offer her some sort of comfort.

He smiles, thinking of a time when that used to be his job. Anytime she was stressed out, he'd be right by her side, rubbing her shoulders and kissing her neck. She'd sigh and give in to Percy's goofy charm, putting her worries aside for another day.

Oh, how he misses it!

"Will?" she calls from under the covers.

Percy wouldn't dare complain, but he's jealous. He's so jealous that the first person Annabeth calls out to in need is Will Solace. Will freakin' Solace!

It's a good thing; he knows that deep down. After talking it out with his therapist, Cletus, he determined that she likely has serious issues with abandonment. It makes sense that she would want someone to cling to, but never be able to fully give in to that desire. So yeah, Percy's happy that she trusts Will enough to call out to him when she's high.

But there's this nagging feeling deep in Percy's gut that says, It should be you she's calling out to.

"It's me," Percy says. "Will's, uh, resting, so I'm here."

Annabeth slumps against the pillow in exasperation.

Although slightly wounded by her obvious disappointment, Percy offers aid. "Do you need something? Water? A snack?"

She groans. "Tattoo... stuff..." she reaches onto the nightstand. Oh yeah. She's supposed to apply the ointment in the evenings too, Percy guesses.

He stands up and reaches for where it was, but her sketchbook and the Aquiphor have both been put away elsewhere.

"It isn't on the nightstand. Could it be somewhere else?" Percy asks, trying to stay patient.

"Mmm..." Annabeth drifts off again.

He doesn't want to go digging through her things- gods, she was so mad when he took a peek into her sketchbook- but he can't be responsible for a bad skin infection or something, right?

He tries the bathroom. That's where someone would keep something like that, he guesses as he steps over a bra on the floor. Two toiletry bags sit on the countertop. He's taken a little aback at Annabeth's lack of organization. Percy, on the contrary, had tucked his things away in a drawer, and taken the time to set his toothbrush and hair product neatly on the counter.

Guess they're fair game if they're not put away. That does make Percy feel a little less guilty about rummaging through Annabeth's and Will's things.

Guessing that the grey bag is hers, he undoes the zipper and carefully looks through, only using two of his fingers to poke around. There's some sort of makeup, foundation, Percy remembers. One picture day back in middle school, he'd gotten a massive pimple and his mom used some to help him hide it.