ᴄᴀᴠᴇ ᴄᴀɴᴇᴍ: ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴄᴀʙᴇᴛʜ/ꜱᴏʟᴀɴɢᴇʟᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴊᴇᴄᴛ

xɪɪ | ᴘᴇʀᴄʏ ʀᴀᴠᴇꜱ

CW: drugs and alcohol

There absolutely is a way that he would forget that important piece of advice. He was responsible for one thing. Annabeth gave him one warning: Do not drink liquor. Hell, he shouldn't be drinking anything else, especially not liquor.

Annabeth turned around for two minutes to run into the convenience store next door. She just wanted to buy Percy a loaf of wonderbread to get him through the night without coming down with alcohol poisoning. She was very firm when she told him to wait at the entrance.

He did not wait at the entrance. She should have never let him out of her sight.

"Percy?" she calls, not caring that she forgot to use his made-up name. She needs to find him right now.

"Hey, hey, would you like to hear about this place's rich history?" Shit, it's Pothos.

"Uh..." To be fair, Annabeth would like to know a lot about this place; the architecture is super historical-looking. She's wondering how the owners managed to turn this place into a nightclub without compromising those historical aspects. Hell, how does that ceiling support the light structures?

She needs to exercise some self-control. "In a bit," she says. "I uh, I need to find my boyfriend. I mean, my fiance!" Is he her fiance? There have been so many versions of the story they went back and forth on. How's she supposed to know which story is the real fake story?

She turns around and pushes her way through the crowd, wishing it could be her dancing like there's no work tomorrow and accepting the risk of a nasty hangover. "Percy!" she calls again.

"Annabeth!" he turns around from the bar, two drinks in hand.

"Percy," she says, "I told you one thing about drinking beer before liquor, and you thought it would be a good idea to buy..." She looks at the drinks. "Please tell me that by some miracle those are regular milkshakes."

"They're called mudslides!" he proudly declares before taking a sip. "I didn't like the shot this lady bought me, so I got these for us because they have ice cream in them."

"Yeah, I know," she says. Mudslides are a pain in the ass to make. "Don't... don't drink anything more, okay?"

Percy takes a sip a little too large for Annabeth's liking.

"Put that down."

He holds a drink out for her.

"I'm alright," she says.

"Come on, can't I buy a drink for my favorite girl?"

"I'm pretty sure I lost that title to your mother and your sister, who would probably agree that you shouldn't be drinking," Annabeth says. Her cheeks are red from the buzz. She's flushed because she's tipsy, not because the idea of being Percy's favorite girl is compelling—not that it is. It is totally not compelling, no matter how much being his favorite girl turned her on in the past.

Besides, she doesn't usually go for guys who buy her drinks. She usually buys drinks for women, but only after she says something oddly sincere like, "Hey, I noticed you across the bar, and I was wondering if I could buy you a drink." It works about ninety-five percent of the time. She doesn't talk about the time that girl she hit on turned out to be straight.

Annabeth chuckles. The thoughts and prayers the homophobe offered her on that unfortunate day haven't exactly kicked in yet. What kind of homophobe goes to a lesbian bar? There were tits on the shot glasses!

Percy holds out the drink again.

She takes a sip and says, "Wow, that's good, thanks!" Then, she sets it down on an unoccupied table. It's a perfectly good drink with only one sip taken out of it, so as long as someone doesn't spike it, it's good for the taking.