Work Text:
The air in the narrow mountain pass was thick with the scent of pine and the sharp, metallic tang of an approaching thunderstorm. Percy shifted his pack, trying to ignore the way his heart did a weird little flip every time Thalia’s shoulder brushed his. It was annoying. He was a son of Poseidon; he fought gods and monsters. He shouldn't be getting nervous because a girl with spiked hair and a "Death to Barbie" shirt was walking next to him.
They were three days into a solo reconnaissance mission for Chiron, tracking a group of rogue karpoi that had been harassing demigods in the Pacific Northwest. Normally, having Thalia around was like having a human lightning rod—literally. She was loud, stubborn, and took exactly zero of his nonsense. But lately, every time she laughed or sent a spark of static electricity his way, Percy felt like he was short-circuiting.
"You’re doing that thing again," Thalia said, her electric-blue eyes narrowing as she looked at him.
"What thing?" Percy asked, trying to look busy with his canteen.
"The 'Seaweed Brain Stare.' You look like you’re trying to solve a math problem that doesn't exist. It’s making the humidity rise."
"I’m just thinking about the quest, Pinecone Face. Get off my back."
"Likely story," she snorted, but she didn't move away.
The trail turned treacherous as they climbed higher. The ground was a mess of loose shale and slick moss. They were navigating a ledge overlooking a churning, glacial river when the ground decided it was done being solid. A massive shelf of rock groaned and gave way right under Thalia’s boots.
It happened in slow motion. Thalia didn't scream—she was too busy trying to find a handhold—but her eyes went wide with a rare flash of genuine fear. She began to slide toward the jagged drop-off, the Aegis shield on her arm clattering against the stone.
"Thalia!" Percy lunged forward, his stomach dropping through his shoes.
He didn't have time to reach her hand. Instead, he slammed his fist into the mountain wall, reaching for the moisture in the rock and the air. He willed the glacial river below to rise, a massive, roaring pillar of ice-cold water that surged up the cliffside just as Thalia slipped over the edge.
The water caught her, cushioning her fall and lifting her back up to a stable ledge. Percy scrambled over to her, his hands shaking so hard he could barely keep his grip on Riptide. He pulled her away from the edge, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Are you—gods, Thalia, are you okay?" he choked out. He was still holding her shoulders, his thumbs brushing against the fabric of her jacket. For a second, he almost said it. The words were right there, burning in his throat: I don't know what I'd do if I lost you.
Thalia was trembling, her usual bravado shattered for a split second. She looked up at him, her face pale, and for a heartbeat, the air between them felt more charged than a lightning strike.
"I'm fine," she whispered, her voice uncharacteristically soft. She cleared her throat and pulled back, the mask of the tough Hunter sliding back into place. "Nice save, Jackson. Don't let it go to your head."
Percy retreated, the words dying in his mouth. He felt like an idiot. Of course she was fine. She was Thalia.
Two days later, they found the karpoi nest, but it wasn't just grain spirits. They had a guardian—a drakon the size of a city bus, its scales reinforced with some kind of Stygian iron plating.
The fight was a disaster from the start. Thalia was a blur of silver and blue, calling down lightning bolts that turned the trees to charcoal, but the drakon’s armor was too thick. Percy tried to flank it, splashing through a nearby creek to get a better angle, but the monster was faster than it looked.
He saw the tail sweeping toward Thalia while she was distracted by a group of spirits. He didn't think. He didn't check his surroundings. He just threw himself between the monster and the girl.
The impact felt like being hit by a freight train made of jagged glass. The drakon’s tail spike, dripping with a thick, neon-green venom, caught Percy square in the ribs, tossing him twenty feet back into a granite outcropping. The world exploded into white light and then settled into a dull, sickening gray.
"Percy!"
He heard her scream—not a battle cry, but a jagged, desperate sound that tore through the ringing in his ears. He tried to stand, but his legs felt like they were made of lead. He slumped against the rock, his hand clutching his side. His fingers came away soaked in dark, steaming blood.
The world went blurry. He saw Thalia standing over him, her silhouette framed by the most massive lightning strike he’d ever seen. It hit the drakon with the force of a nuclear bomb, vaporizing the monster instantly. Then she was on her knees beside him, her hands pressing desperately against the wound in his side.
"Stay with me, Seaweed Brain. Percy, look at me!" Her voice was shaking, and he realized with a start that she was crying. Thalia Grace didn't cry.
"Hey," Percy croaked, a red mist clouding his vision. "You’re... you're messing up your eyeliner."
"Shut up! Just shut up and breathe!" She was fumbling for the ambrosia in her pack, her movements frantic.
Percy reached up, his blood-stained fingers catching her wrist. He knew how bad it was. The venom was cold, creeping toward his heart. If he was going to say it, it had to be now.
"Thalia," he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. "Listen. Just in case."
"Don't you dare say 'in case.' You’re going to be fine."
"I love you," he said, the words finally tumbling out, fueled by the sheer terror of never getting to say them. "Always have. Even when you were a tree. You were... a really pretty tree."
Thalia let out a sob that was half-laugh, leaning her forehead against his as she forced a piece of ambrosia into his mouth. "You're a moron, Percy Jackson. A total, complete moron. I love you too. Now don't you dare leave me here alone."
The nectar burned like liquid sunshine, fighting back the cold of the venom. Percy felt his consciousness slipping, but the last thing he felt was the warmth of Thalia’s hand in his and the smell of ozone that always meant she was near.
He woke up three days later in the Camp Half-Blood infirmary. He felt like he’d been chewed up and spat out by a Charybdis, but the sun was shining through the window. Thalia was slumped in a chair next to his bed, her boots up on the mattress, fast asleep with a silver arrow still clutched in her hand.
When he stirred, her eyes snapped open. She didn't offer a sentimental speech. She just stood up, flicked his forehead hard enough to make him wince, and then leaned down to kiss him—a kiss that tasted like cinnamon and felt like a literal electric shock.
"You're late for lunch," she murmured against his lips, a smirk playing on her face. "And for the record? I was an excellent tree."