Summary: The baby's crying one room over, and, according to Annabeth, it's Percy's turn. Can be read as a continuation of "Cravings" but can just as easily stand alone.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Percy Jackson and The Olympians series, nor do I own any characters from the aforementioned series.

Author's Note: Hi! Yes, I'm alive, and I'm sorry for being a little absent lately. I'm on some sort of semi-hiatus thing currently but I've been talking through many AUs with my wonderful friend and beta Luna (lunaparr on tumblr), who is the very best. This was just some quick thing I wrote to fill a prompt on tumblr for anonymous, and I hope it's somewhat enjoyable. The title belongs to Artist Vs Poet, and my blog is linked on my profile if you're interested in sending in a prompt or following me! I hope you have a nice day.

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Percy's been woken up by a lot of things—which, frankly, isn't all that astonishing since he's always been the guy that sleeps the latest. It's in his nature.

He's been brought into consciousness by Axe's obnoxious singing (no doubt trying to wake him up), his mother banging about in the kitchen preparing breakfast, and the alarm tone he picked on his phone because he thought it sounded nice, even if he ended up hating it a week later. He's also gotten his fair share of morning sex, and he'll freely admit that being woken up with Annabeth's lips on his jaw is one of his more treasured morning memories.

But this isn't morning, Percy knows. There's still moonlight entering their room from the space in between their curtains—Percy's fault, it's his responsibility to close them at night—rather than brash sunlight beaming through the window. He groans into his pillow when Annabeth elbows his back for what's probably not the first time, if the hint of annoyance in the push is anything to go by.

"What?" he grumbles, not all that discernible. Thankfully they've been happily married for long enough that she understands him past his crippling tiredness. "My eyes sting," he adds, just to make a point, since that's the way he lets her know he hasn't had enough sleep.

"It's your turn," she informs him, kicking at his thigh with her foot. Percy wants to bat her away, but he's actually too tired to even move a limb.

"What're you talking ab—?"

Before Percy can even finish his question, a whine comes from the room across from them. The baby's room. Percy sits up quicker than he ever has when roused from sleep, practically jumping off the bed. His foot gets caught up in the bedsheet, causing him to stumble twice before he has the sense to look down and disentangle himself.

"Relax, Percy, she's just whining," Annabeth calls after him, once he's started his light jog to Ruby's room. "Babies do that."

Percy knows that, and he knows Annabeth knows he knows that, but that doesn't make his daughter crying any less unsettling to him. "How long has she been up?"

"Just a few minutes," Annabeth replies, voice faint. "I think she might have had a bad dream; she's been whimpering. Just rock her, sit in the chair. She'll be fine."

Percy frowns at his daughter's face, the moonlight highlighting the tear streaks. He scoops her up, rubbing her back when she lets out another, weaker whine. "Don't cry, Ruby."

"Hurry up," Annabeth complains, and he hears rustling that has to be from her tossing and turning. "I can't sleep." There's an unspoken without you there, but Percy doesn't tack it on with a smug smile like he usually would.

When he was younger—well, scratch that, up until the point he and Annabeth had a child of their own—he'd always found it hard to see babies as beautiful. He'd always think other people crazy, too kind for their own good, or just flat-out liars when they complimented another person's child, calling them 'pretty' or 'handsome.' Now, cradling Ruby against his chest and patting her fine tufts of hair, he can't imagine ever thinking of her as anything besides gorgeous.

He smiles down at his daughter, trying to look comforting since she's still letting out sleepy little whines here and there. Percy wishes it were safer for her to sleep tucked in between himself and Annabeth—it's clear that Ruby just wants to be coddled. She's tired, too, if the way her eyelids fall shut is anything to go by.

Percy holds her even after she's sleeping soundly, tiny chest rising and falling with her breaths. He finds it strange—odd and absolutely wonderful—that he and Annabeth made this. That they share this gorgeous little girl who, by the looks of it, is going to grow up with blonde hair just like her mother. Percy pets her face lovingly with a curled index finger, and even if she's too young to really have much of a resemblance to anyone, Percy wants to believe she looks like him.

"You can put her down now, if she's out," Annabeth says, and Percy's so used to her slipping into his space undetected, he doesn't even start.

He pauses, glancing over at her where she stands in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest and shoulder propped against the frame. "I don't want to put her down," he replies quietly, though it's unlikely Ruby's sleep would be interrupted by a normal speaking voice.

He can't really see all that well, but he's pretty sure Annabeth rolls her eyes before she steps closer to him, peering over his shoulder. They're both silent for a few moments, just admiring this baby—this baby that's theirs, this baby that they're going to raise together, this baby that'll grow up with the smartest mom and the proudest dad, ever. Percy's eyes might be stinging for a different reason.

"Isn't she pretty?" Annabeth mumbles against his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his middle and leaning against him. Percy has so much love in his body for both of them, his daughter and his wife. He can't imagine what his life would be like without them; doesn't want to even think about what his life would be like without them.

"Gorgeous," Percy says back, smoothing out Ruby's onesie, snapping a set of buttons together that must have popped open at some point. "I can't believe it."

It's a vague statement that has an assortment of meanings, and Percy thinks Annabeth hears all of them. "I know," she says, nuzzling the back of his neck, and Percy feels a little smile slip onto his face. "Let's put her down; she'll be more comfortable in the crib."

Percy takes his time, tucking her in slowly and setting up the gifted stuffed animals around her. Annabeth's hand rests between his shoulder blades, calming and simple and there, and for a second it takes Percy's breath away that this is his life now. This one-story, two bedroom, one bath house is where he lives with a woman who doubles as a wife and a best friend along with their baby. This is what everyone told him his life would be like, and it's so surreal, incredible, and, in many ways, unbelievable to see that he made it to that point.

He shakes his head mutely, not even sure of how to vocalize his thoughts. Then Annabeth pinches the place between his shoulders, and Percy jumps so violently, it's a wonder Ruby didn't start awake with a whole new round of screams.

Percy huffs and pushes her hand away, turning to her with narrowed eyes. Annabeth's laughing quietly trying to pull him back to their room, despite the dramatically outraged look on his face. Percy mouths a few choice words that he doesn't even want his daughter to know are real.

They stumble back to their room, Percy still feeling a little sting between his shoulder blades and Annabeth still chuckling softly like she pulled off the prank of the century.

"I can't believe you," he whispers, getting into bed and pulling the duvet back for Annabeth. She slides in next to him and comes close, smacking a kiss on his forehead, albeit uncoordinated due to her rather exhausted state. Percy's always thought Annabeth worked too hard for her own good.

"Stop crying, you've had far worse injuries than a half-hearted pinch from me," Annabeth reminds him, and while it might be true, that doesn't mean Percy won't be obstinate about it.

"It's not about the pain. It's the betrayal that hurts, Annabeth."

"Shut up." Her laugh falls out against his collarbone, and Percy wishes he could freeze-frame right there, keeping the feeling of Annabeth's warm breath and cold hands on his arm.

"You suck," he tells her. The sting of the pinch is replaced by warmth that spreads through his whole body, probably due to a combination of Annabeth and the best comforter he's ever slept with—the one Annabeth picked out, after an entire week of researching and scanning reviews left on the internet. She hooks her foot around his own and tugs him closer. "Sorry, stink. You stink."

He feels Annabeth's smile before he hears it in her voice. "You're going to have issues filtering yourself, aren't you?"

"Hey, I've been working on it," Percy defends with a frown. "I completely removed the f-word from my vocabulary. Axe even tries to get it out of me, but I won't let him."

"Remind me to punch him," Annabeth mumbles, and Percy pets her hair, knowing she's sleepy. She didn't have to even get up past telling him to calm Ruby, but she did and he loves her for it.

"Kay already took care of it," Percy tells her, keeping his voice gentle. Annabeth hums in acknowledgement, sleepily patting his chest twice as a voiceless goodnight. Percy runs his fingers through her hair one last time before he gets comfortable, shifting his arm until he's sure it won't fall asleep. He hates waking up feeling like he's lost a limb.

He's not sure when he ends up dozing off, but he knows the room across the hall is just as tranquil as theirs.

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