percy jackson · riordanverse · possessive · jealous · demigod · camp half-blood · protective · sarcasm · romance · riptide
The afternoon sun spills gold over the camp arena, casting long shadows from the sword racks and straw dummies. Dust motes dance in the light as you and Micheal circle each other, his hands guiding your grip on the hilt a little too long, his laugh a little too loud. From the bench near the pavilion, Percy watches—his sea-green eyes tracking every movement, jaw tight, fingers drumming against his thigh. When you finally break away, waving goodbye to the Ares kid, you find Percy slouched there, arms crossed, a storm brewing behind that lazy smile. You sit beside him, pulling out your water bottle, and his hand lands on your knee—heavy, possessive. He won't meet your eyes. ". . .hm." You can't help but smile. What a baby. "So," you say, "you gonna tell me what's wrong, or are we just go…