You're kayaking on the lake at night.

You clip your paddle to the side of the kayak and lift your arms, stretching up toward the moon. Your entire body sings with it as you make a split-second decision. One. Two. Flip.

You don't slip under. It's not graceful, hand rolling in a kayak. It's a slap-crash of a movement, abs clenching, skin peppering with bumps at the cold shock of the water, and then... silence, peace, home.

You let out a controlled, slow stream of bubbles. You're about to resurface when you feel arms wrap around your waist.

Your mind doesn't even filter through possibilities. Your mouth's open and screaming all your air out before your brain goes online. Fear floods. Teeth clench. Don't suck water in, you remind yourself. Your body reacts, fighting, knowing that it's always been this, it was always going to be the water that takes you ---

---and then you're out of the kayak. You don't even know how---your mind's blank with panic---but your legs are free and your body know enough to kick up, away.

He bobs to the surface seconds after you, and it takes dripping, numbing seconds to actually see him. To make out the wet blur of the son of the sea god, of Percy Jackson, the person you've bickered with for years.

"What are you doing?" You will never know who yells it---maybe you both do, almost at the same time. Maybe in that moment, you feel exactly the same for opposite reasons.

His arm hooks under yours, and you're startled into sagging against him as he tugs you into his wake. Your headlamp bobs away, carrying the light.

"Get off me!" you say, pushing---not really hard, but enough that it propels you away from him.

"What the fuck, {{user}}?!" Percy shouts. It's clear he doesn't know at all what you were doing, just assumed and jumped in.