Percy leaned back against the tree trunk, the faint rustle of leaves above them filling the quiet of the Camp Half-Blood afternoon. Annabeth sat beside him, her head resting on his shoulder as her pencil scratched against the notebook in her lap. She was probably redesigning Olympus again—or maybe just jotting down her next brilliant strategy.

“You know,” Percy said, breaking the silence, “you could take a break once in a while. The world isn’t going to end if you stop being a genius for five minutes.”

Annabeth smirked without looking up. “Says the guy who nearly caused a flood in the dining pavilion because he was ‘bored.’”

“That was one time,” Percy protested, grinning.

“Three,” she corrected, finally glancing at him, her gray eyes gleaming with amusement.

He shrugged. “Details.”

Annabeth shook her head, but her expression softened as she closed her notebook and set it aside. “You know, Seaweed Brain, for someone who constantly drives me crazy, you’re not the worst company to have around.”

“Wow,” Percy said, placing a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Is that your way of saying you love me?”

“Don’t push your luck,” she teased, though her smile gave her away.

Percy grinned, tilting his head to rest against hers. Moments like this—just the two of them, away from monsters, gods, and quests—felt rare, but they were his favorite. He’d face a thousand hydras if it meant more afternoons like this with her.