a/n

this is part one of an undetermined amount of parts in what i like to call Percabeth And Domesticity TM. if you know me, you know i like those stupid moments like cooking together and forehead kisses and knuckle brushes and flicking one another and waking up to warm breakfast and studying and YEAH. i like it all. give it all to me.

i have like a bajillion ideas of percabeth being domestic. some will be incredibly challenging to make into full-length oneshots because they are quite literally very small moments, like prev. mentioned. ie, holding hands, forehead kisses, etc.  but i will do my best.

if you have any ideas, leave them! don't be shy! i just used like so many times i forgot what the word is. 

enjoy or else! :)

///\

Annabeth once told him she wanted to make something permanent. That she would be an architect who would leave her mark on the world, whose name people would know long after she was gone. She would be remembered. 

Annabeth didn't lie. What she wanted, she found. She wanted permanence--in a sense, they'd accomplished that together. But she'd never settled for just enough, so Annabeth was going to be an architect.

Percy would argue that she already was one. He still sat with her some nights, long after the sun sank below the horizon, and watched her nibble on the end of her pencil, trying to figure out how her mother would most approve of her newest idea for Olympus. Olympus felt a little bit more like theirs after she'd redesigned so much of it, god-filled or not.

But Olympus was only her first job. They'd called her a genius, praised her work for the home of the gods--but it was only a part of the future she had in mind.

Annabeth was going to be an architect.

That was why he found himself watching her as she stared intently at her newest model. Percy didn't have a clue what she was looking for. It looked like a bunch of popsicle sticks, toothpicks, and web-like hot glue to him. Somehow, she'd managed to turn those lackluster materials he'd seen just the other day in heaps on the countertop into a beautiful little building; stairs, roof, pillars, and all. It reminded him of the museums his mom and Paul took him to back in New York. For wooden sticks and the questionable hold of hot glue, Percy thought it was masterful.

"It's missing something," Annabeth said, turning to face him. He'd leaned down purposely so that they'd be nose-to-nose when she turned. 

She was a bit of a perfectionist. He hadn't always seen it when they were on their quests---last-minute plans and makeshift, last-ditch attempts didn't leave room for perfection, after all. He was used to blurting out the first thing that came to mind and waiting for her to arrange it into something useful while he and Grover pretended not to be scared witless at the idea of death looming just around the corner. 

But in the stillness of peace, Annabeth had a lot more time to think. Or, as she told him, "space to do her best." Percy wanted to argue that she was always doing her best, and he knew that, but once Annabeth got started on something, it was hard to reel her back in. He'd never seen anyone work as hard besides his mom, maybe. He was proud of her.

"I know what it's missing."

A raised brow. "Oh yeah?"

"A break. A nice meal, a walk, maybe a nap."

Annabeth rolled her eyes. She went back to staring at her model. 

Percy settled back in comfortably beside her. He'd been studying, waiting for the lull in her work when he knew she needed a break. Not just for health reasons, but also for productivity. She was going to start pulling out her hair if she stayed there too long, staring and trying to figure out what exactly was missing. He was quiet, waiting for her to give in.

Eventually, he heard her sigh. Annabeth put down her blueprint and set her chin on his shoulder. He looked down. They hadn't been eye to eye like this for years now, not since Percy outgrew her.  Sometimes, holding her, he remembered a time when she had height on him. It was a laughably nostalgic thought.

"Stepping away for a bit will give me a breakthrough when we come back. Let's go."

Percy smiled. Back when she was taller than him, he might've given an I-told-you-so speech, wanting to win a nonexistent competition. They'd long since mutually agreed that competing with one another over every silly little thing was tiring and pointless. It wasn't as if she hadn't known she could use a break. It wasn't an admittance of defeat. She wasn't bitter and he wasn't smirking. It was life.

He helped her up. They were careful to step around her project, but after that, it was just them. Tugging their coats on, bickering over where to eat, exploring new paths to take on a walk. Annabeth probably had her revelation somewhere in there, because she knew exactly what was missing when they returned home. Percy loved it. He loved her. He loved life with her. 

You're beautiful when you're content, she'd whispered to him once. Percy had smiled. You're beautiful when I'm content. He'd gotten pinched for that one.

But she was right. Percy had fallen in love with the idea of forever after meeting her and making friends and shaking hands with Death. When life was this, just them, in their apartment full of popsicle sticks and hot glue and forever, Percy was content.