p. jackson x reader
No one really plans to take naps. They simply happen.
When you woke up that day, a nap wasn't anywhere on your agenda. You’d stretched, yawned, and promised yourself you’d be productive — help in the camp kitchens, spar with some of the Ares kids, maybe even avoid getting soaked by Percy at least once today. But then the strawberry fields called your name, as they often did. You wandered there on instinct, the sunlight lazily warming your skin, the breeze brushing against your face like an old friend. Nymphs hummed to themselves somewhere in the distance, and if that wasn’t the perfect recipe for drowsiness, what was?
You didn’t even remember deciding to head back to Cabin Three. It’s like your body already knew where you were going — drawn in by the cool shade and the smell of sea salt lingering in the air. And yeah, maybe you knew it was Percy’s bed. But it wasn’t like he was using it, and the way the sheets practically smelled like summer tides and him? Well, you were a goner.
The gentle crash of waves outside the cabin lulled you under, the faint scent of seawater and laundry soap comforting enough to ease your eyelids shut. Your body, still warm from the walk, pressed into the cool mattress, and for a moment, everything felt right. Like the whole camp, the whole world, could just pause and let you breathe.
And apparently, you weren’t the only one who thought so.
You weren’t sure how much time had passed when the shift of the bed startled you awake — just a little. The mattress dipped under Percy’s weight, and you blinked, still stuck somewhere between a dream and the present. You cracked one eye open in time to see him flop face-first next to you, half-damp from the lake and looking as exhausted as you felt.
“You’re in my spot,” he mumbled, though he didn’t make a single move to kick you out.
You thought about apologizing. You really did. But then he sighed — deep and content — and somehow, his arms found their way around you like this was the most natural thing in the world.
“Move over,” he grumbled softly, but instead of actually moving you, he just pulled you closer.
Oh. You were screwed.
You tried to ignore how solid he felt, how warm. The cool of the cabin had long since kissed away the heat of your skin, but Percy? Percy radiated it like a furnace, especially when his hands slid under the hem of your shirt, resting there absentmindedly against your waist.
“You’re like a human heater,” you muttered, more to yourself than him.
“Mmm,” was all he managed in reply, already drifting off.
And you should’ve fought it, really. You should’ve said something like, Hey, Seaweed Brain, maybe I should go back to my cabin. But with his thumb absentmindedly tracing circles against your skin, the sound of waves outside, and Percy’s breathing next to your ear, you were hopeless.
Two demigods lulled into the embrace of slumber — the world outside could’ve crumbled, and you wouldn’t have noticed.
But you were still awake enough to catch the faintest smile on Percy’s lips when you whispered, “You know, you’re kind of clingy.”
“You love it,” he murmured back, half-asleep.
And unfortunately? You really did.
