Only Percico? Percicobeth? Maybe a little domestic bliss?
Happiness, Percy decides, is waking up smooshed between his girlfriend (who’s wedged right to his side, her blonde curls are laying across his face in a way that he can taste the strawberries in her conditioner) and his boyfriend (who is flopped halfway on top of Percy, his head pillowed against Percy’s chest with bedhead unlike anything the outside world would be lucky enough to see). It’s listening to Annabeth’s kitten purr snores against his neck, and dutifully ignoring the fact that Nico is kind of drooling on his chest; on quiet mornings like this, Percy likes to wake them up by peppering any part of their body he can reach with kisses. Sometimes there’s morning wood involved, and between the three of them those are the happiest mornings indeed.
Happiness is coaxing Annabeth out of bed because she’s the only one who can cook anything without almost burning their apartment down, and fanning the smell of omelets and bacon towards the bedroom until Nico stumbles out in his boxers (if he was lucky enough to find them on the floor before giving up) and hoards the bacon.
Happiness is being with his two best friends, whether they are laughing or arguing; sharing kisses and each other’s warmth all through the night, and playing the shock card in public to annoy the closed-minded people who made comments about their relationship. It’s falling into his friends and lovers, whether tonight was a night for all three together or one preferred to watch, and knowing when Nico needed a little bit more space or as little as possible between them.
Percy likes to think that no one could possibly be as happy as he was when he was with them; everyone has a different definition of happiness, and Percy’s is a simple idea of being bound to these two incredible people.