. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ passion
fluff percy kissing u senseless after a loong day of training and watching over the younger kids. aged up percy by a little. wc: ~900
the thing about percy is that he doesn't do anything halfway.
when he fights, he's all in—sword swinging, water swirling, that wild grin on his face like he was born for it. when he's helping the younger campers, he's crouched down at their level, tying their shoes, fixing their armor straps, making them laugh until they forget they were homesick. and when he kisses you? gods, when he kisses you, it's like the rest of the world just stops existing. literally one of aphrodite’s exemplar couple’s.
today's been long. like, really long. the kind of day where you've been up since dawn running drills, where your muscles ache in places you didn't know you even had muscles, where you've broken up around five arguments between ten-year-olds about whose turn it is with the practice dummy. you're pretty sure there's still some weird concoction in your hair from when one of the athena kids' contraptions exploded at lunch. this is not quite what you signed up for when you came to camp half-blood. nemesis strikes even harder this time…
percy's been in the same boat. you watched him all day—teaching sword fighting to the newer campers, diving into the lake to retrieve a kid's lost retainer (gross, but very percy…), then spending an hour explaining to a homesick child from cabin seven why camp half-blood is actually pretty cool once you get used to the whole monsters-and-quests thing.
now it's finally evening. the sun's setting over the sound, painting everything gold and pink, and most of the campers are at the campfire. you can hear a mixture of heavenly blessed voices with off-key and… terrible singing voices. but it’s in a way where it kinda gives you nostalgia when you and percy were younger at camp half blood.
you're sitting on the dock, feet dangling over the water, taking in the beautiful sight of the pink hue and the yellow in the sky colliding with blue and purple hues.
then there's footsteps—that familiar, slightly uneven gait because percy's always in a hurry to get somewhere. the dock creaks as he drops down beside you, close enough that his shoulder bumps yours.
"hey," he says, and his voice is soft, a little rough around the edges. tired.
“hey,” you say gently, looking at him to be met with percy’s face contorted into somewhat of a half smile and half frown.
for a minute, you both just sit there. his hand finds yours, fingers lacing together like it's an instinct— a habit, almost. his thumb traces random shapes and patterns on your skin, and you can feel him unwinding beside you, the tension of the day slowly melting away.
"you've got—" he reaches over with his free hand, and you feel him gently pulling something from your hair. "—weird gooey stuff in your hair. still."
you groan, your fingers finding the weird spot of slime in your hair. "i know. that's not coming out without a serious shower."
he laughs, that dorky, wonderful laugh that makes your chest feel warm. "i've got seaweed in my pocket, so. we're both disasters."
"seaweed-brain with seaweed in his pocket? that’s so comical. and cute.”
"well… what can i say? i’m very humorous! the little kids think so,”
you turn to look at him, and gods, he's beautiful in this light. his dark hair is a mess, sticking up in every direction. there's a smudge of dirt on his cheek and what looks like marker on his neck (probably from the arts and crafts session). his eyes are tired but so, so green, like the ocean on a sunny day.
"you're staring," he says, but he's smiling.
"you're worth staring at." you wipe the dirt off his cheek with your thumb, savoring every single second you can adore and admire his pretty face.
his ears go pink. even after all this time, you can still make him blush, and it's adorable.
"shut up," he mumbles, but he's grinning now, that lopsided grin that makes your heart do stupid things.
he leans in, and his hand comes up to cup your face, gentle despite all the food fights and hangry children he had to deal with, he feels at peace with you. his thumb brushes your cheekbone, and he's looking at you like you're the only thing that matters.
"i missed you today, y’know?" he whispers, even though you've been at the same camp all day, even though you've seen each other a dozen times.
"missed you too, perseus, you dork.” you chuckle at the sight of his face flushing a soft pink color.
then he's kissing you, sweet and gentle like he's got all the time in the world. it feels like he’s trying to pour all the stress and exhaustion into one big kiss. (cutie) his other hand finds it’s way in your hair, and you’re sure you almost stop breathing for a moment.
he kisses like he does everything else—completely, utterly, without reservation. like you're the only person in the world, like nothing else matters except this, except you.
when he finally pulls back, you're both breathing hard, and he's got that dazed, dopey expression that makes him look about twelve years old again.
"uhm… sorry," he says with a genuine sheepish grin on his face, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.
you laugh, breathless. "you might be a seaweed brain, but at least your a good kisser.”
he grins and pulls you closer, tucking you against his side. the water laps gently at the dock posts, and in the distance, the campfire in the distance songs continue.
"same time tomorrow?" he asks, pressing a kiss to your temple.
"wouldn't miss it."
and you mean it.
