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Vex wakes up and the first thing she sees is white.
It takes a moment, as it sometimes does upon waking, for her to place exactly where she is. Dreaming? No, too sharp and real to be a dream. In a bed, but not her bed, her vision filled with-- Snow? No, she realizes. Hair. Percy’s hair.
It comes back to her in a rush then, the early morning confusion giving way to the memories of the night before: coming down to Percy’s Whitestone workshop after a long day and a risky battle; an argument, the two of them yelling, each frightened for the other, neither willing to admit it, until; Percy’s confession, throwing the words at her like one of her brother’s daggers, and Vex doing the only sensible thing, which was to grab Percy by the lapels and pull him to her in an all-consuming, devouring kiss; his hands sliding down her back and up her thighs, lifting her onto a nearby table; her fingers shaking as they worked to undo all his fucking buckles , feeling his doing the same as he yanks at her furs and leathers; his breath hot against her neck, his teeth rough against her collarbone, her fingers threading through his hair; his glasses skidding across the floor where she throws them, tearing them from his face after they knock into her nose one too many times; the look on his face as he kneels between her legs, something full of heat and adoration, so much so that she has to close her eyes; her pulling him up to seal her mouth over his, pressing herself against every inch of him; the awkward stumble to his bed, made more difficult by their reluctance to stop touching each other; the weight of him on her, his half-huff of laughter when she wraps her legs around his waist and twists to put herself on top; her hair coming piecemeal out of its braid to float around her face, his hand reaching up to brush it back; the heady rush of heat and fullness; Percy’s name breathed out between shallow gasps; the sweat-slick slide of skin against skin; Percy burying his face in her shoulder as they both tumble over the edge; the warm, slow settling into sleep.
Oh. Right.
Slowly, Vex raises her head. Percy is still asleep, if his deep, even breathing is any indication, his face soft and free of worry in a way it rarely is when he wakes. He has one arm slung over her waist, holding her to him. She can feel her legs twined with his under the thin sheet that partly covers them both, the only blanket needed in the forge-heated workshop. Much like in Greyskull Keep, Percy technically has his own bedroom in Whitestone castle, but he spends most of his nights on the bed in his workshop, only ceasing his tinkering when weariness threatens to overtake him. It’s a small bed, meant for function over comfort, and the pair of them are pressed close to avoid one or the other falling off.
Vex flips through her options. She could stay and deal with the awkward conversation, which would probably be the responsible thing to do, but Vex has never been the responsible one in the group. There’s a chance she could be dressed and away before Percy woke, but there’s also a chance that she could run into someone on her way out. She has no desire to explain this to her brother, or, gods forbid, Scanlan . Not that Vex is ashamed of her sex life, far from it, but they’ve all seen how complicated inter-party romance makes things, if this thing between her and Percy is actually a romance, and, well, Vex has sort of been actively avoiding complication for most of her life. She’s gotten pretty good at it.
“I can hear you thinking.”
Percy’s eyes are still closed, but there’s a smile quirking one corner of his mouth. His voice is soft and sleep-rough, and it sends a little thrill through Vex to hear him so unguarded.
She settles back down against the single pillow, inches from Percy’s face. His eyes open and focus on her, bright blue reflecting the sunlight streaming in from the lone window high above their heads. “I thought this was a dream,” Vex admits, her own voice hesitant in the morning quiet.
Percy smiles wryly. “No,” he says. “My dreams are rarely so pleasant.” The arm around her waist has shifted, his hand tracing a light pattern along her side, from her hip to just below her breast and back. It’s maddeningly distracting.
Vex bites her lip. Truth be told, she’s not really sure where to go from here. It’s been awhile since she had any intimate encounters, but those were usually fleeting, with everyone involved packing up in the morning, thanking each other for the good time, and then leaving never to see each other again. She doesn’t know what to do when it’s a friend in her bed, let alone one that claims to…
“Did you mean it?” The words are out before she can stop them. Percy’s hand pauses against her skin, just the lightest touch connecting them. “What you said last night,” she continues, forging ahead through the nervous flutter of her heartbeat that Percy must surely be close enough to feel. “When you said that you… Did you mean it?”
Percy smirks, not meeting her eyes. “Have I ever said anything I didn’t mean?”
“Percy.” It’s a plea and a chastisement, because really, one of them ought to know what they’re doing, and if it’s not going to be Vex, Percy at least ought to have the decency to be honest with her. She pulls Percy’s hand from her hip and brings it to rest on the bed between them, tangling her fingers with his. “Please.” Her voice is soft, and she hates herself for it a little, hates that she can face down vampires and beholders and death itself unflinching, but here, in this moment, she can barely hide the fact that her hands are starting to shake.
Percy’s face softens, the mask of casual indifference falling away as he takes in her clenched jaw, her ever so slightly trembling fingers. He squeezes her hand, just for a moment. “Yes,” he says, unselfconscious in a way Vex has come to envy. “Of course I meant it.” He smiles again, this one soft and genuine, and he lifts his free hand to brush a strand of hair back from her face. “How could I not?”
And suddenly Vex can’t breathe. It’s so stupid to be getting this worked up, she thinks, especially over Percy . She laughs, shaky, and rolls her eyes even as they begin to well. “‘Course you did. Why wouldn’t you?” She shakes her head, turns her face into the pillow, bites her lip against the lump in her throat.
The hand in hers pulls away. Vex has just a moment for her heart to sink before Percy is running a hand through her hair, down to her shoulder, resting there, squeezing gently. It’s one of maybe a handful of times she can remember Percy initiating physical contact, and it startles her into looking at him.
“Are you alright?” It’s a simple enough question, and Vex would berate herself for not being able to answer it simply, but there is no judgement in Percy’s eyes. There never has been, not even on her worst days, not when she’s lied and stolen and thrown herself into danger. Percy has sighed, and fretted, and rolled his eyes, but he has never looked at her like she is anything less than someone he trusts and respects.
It’s that shared history that gives her the courage to speak. “I don’t know how to do this.” Percy’s eyebrows raise in unspoken question, and she flaps a hand between them in an attempt at clarification. “This… Things between people. I don’t know how to.. Be with someone. For longer than a night, anyway.” Percy’s eyes widen in understanding. Vex continues. “And even if I did, not that I don’t- it’s not that I don’t want to, necessarily, but-” She bites her lip. Percy’s the one who’s good with words. “Once we leave this room, there’s danger, and dragons, and- Percy, I’m already out of my mind worrying about you, and my brother, and everyone. When I- died-” Percy opens his mouth to speak, but she rushes on. “I don’t remember it, but- you said you couldn’t have lived with yourself if it had been permanent, and it still could be. Either of us, any of us, we could die, and I don’t-” She swallows hard. “I don’t know if I could bear that. If it were you.”
A pause as Percy considers. He always does this, Vex thinks, when it’s something important: turns something over in his mind, runs through it what must be many times before he speaks it aloud. “I had a conversation with your brother,” he says, causing Vex to blink at the apparent leap in conversation topic, “the night before we went into that temple, ironically enough. I said, among other things, that I was trying to figure out what was important to me, in my life, and that I wanted to begin moving towards it.” The hand on her shoulder shifts, as though he wants to move it, but is resisting the impulse. “And what I’ve realized is that what is important to me, one of the things that are important to me, is, well. You.” He ducks his head, clears his throat. “As you might have gathered.
“I don’t expect anything from you,” he continues. His voice is clearer now, the sleep fading from him and the normal Percy bearing taking over. He’s looking her right in the eye now, despite his lack of glasses, and she’s suddenly so grateful for that. That he doesn’t hide or misdirect, not with this. “Last night was-” He pauses, a flush creeping into his cheeks and the tips of his ears, and his mouth twitches against a smile. “Lovely,” is the word he decides on before continuing, “but if that’s all you want to happen between us, I understand.” He squeezes her shoulder again, an attempt at comfort from a man sorely out of practice in it. “If you want to talk about it, or not talk about it, or pretend it never happened-” He swallows. “I will follow your lead.”
Vex’s brow furrows. “You’d do that? Act like nothing happened, even though you…” She waves her hand. “Said that. And meant it.”
Percy smiles. “If that’s what you wanted.”
Vex lets that sink it, lets the weight of it settle beneath her breastbone. “And if I don’t know what I want?”
Percy thinks. “Well.” He reaches out again, slowly, and lets his hand trace across her face, from her temple down to cup her cheek. “I’d be more than willing to help you find out.”
Vex’s smile presses against his palm. “Alright then.” Before she can talk herself out of it, she raises herself up, just enough to lean forward and kiss him. His mouth presses gently against hers, the sharp heat of last night softened to tender warmth. They stay there for a moment, a quiet morning tangle of hands and arms and legs and lips.
Percy is the one to pull away. “To be clear, you do know what you’re getting into?” His tone is light, but as is so often the case with Percy, there’s a thread of truth buried beneath the feigned indifference. “Even setting aside the whole smoke monster thing, I’m no hero.”
Vex considers this. “I’ve just about had my fill of heroes,” she says finally, matching him in airy affectation. “Always running off and doing stupid, noble things, nearly getting themselves killed.” She smiles, a small smile, but one with a bite. “And anyway, if I wanted a hero, I’d go and find Jarrett, instead.”
Percy groans. “What is it with that man?” He would probably launch into a lengthy diatribe on their former guard’s many flaws, but he’s cut off by Vex’s peal of giggles. He shoves her lightly, sending her rocking nearly off the bed, and she flails for a moment, latching on to his wrist. She pulls herself back to rights, shifting her grip to once again take Percy’s hand. She’s still laughing when he kisses her, knows that the shape of her smile is pressed against her lips, that he can taste the giddiness on her tongue. How strange , she thinks, before all thought is driven blissfully from her mind.
I’m happy .