If you asked Chiron, he'd tell you he's never seen any hero need more ambrosia than Annabeth Chase. He'd tell you that she was the only hero who could still surprise him, what with all the innovative ways she managed to hurt herself. His personal favourite was when she got distracted by a butterfly and fell off the edge of the lava wall.

When nobody was around, Mr. D would chuckle to himself, thinking about how much of a stir she'd caused when she got knocked out for three days straight because she got in the way of a nymph foot race. Imagine being hit in the head by a tree. Only annabeth could've managed that.

Everyone had an Annabeth hurting herself in the stupidest way possible moment that they held dearest to their hearts. Travis Stoll would tell you it was when the Great Prank War of 2003 against Luke went a little wrong, and Clarisse La Rue might bring up the time she illegally brought in those scorpions for practice and got her butt kicked, big time.

The medics and Apollo cabin had grown used to it. The cases had been colourful as they were frequent, but there was one thing every single incident had in common- each ended with Annabeth in the infirmary, needing to be spoon fed some godly food to fix her up.

So... yeah. Annabeth Chase was no stranger to ambrosia.

It had been a while since her last mishap, but this one seemed to make up for all her months of good behaviour.

"Seriously, Annabeth?" Will Solace asked. He glanced at her over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. He was working on what appeared to be some kind of potion. Clarisse, who was kind enough to give her a piggy back ride, grunted.

"Don't ask." She said. Then she looked up at Annabeth."Your regular bed then, Princess?"

"Yes please." She said politely. Then she stuck her tongue out at Clarisse.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask." Will said. "I can't fix an unknown injury."
"I was doing a tour and I got in the middle of javelin throwing practice by accident."

Will winced in sympathy. "Oof." He studied her with a frown. "I don't see any blood."

"Because she didn't get impaled." Clarisse filled in as she set Annabeth down on the bed. "It was that idiot Jesse. He missed the target entirely and almost took the new kid Annabeth was showing out with his terrible aim."

"What?" Will asked. Generally, killing the new recruits was heavily frowned upon at Camp Half Blood. Annabeth shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"As if I'd let that happen, Will." She said. "Do you know me at all? I pushed her out of the way just in time."
"And got impaled and magically healed?" Will asked, narrowing his eyes. Annabeth shook her head.

"Like you said," She gestured with her fingers but refused to lift her arms. Will noticed and raised his eyebrows. "No blood."

"The javelin hit the temporary panels in the Hera cabin." Clarisse said.
"Next thing I know, the entire half-done cabin is crashing around me." Annabeth said. "And now my chest and my bones feel…"

"Broken. Or worse." Will said, the confusion in his eyes clearing. "Okay. So… just another eccentric Annabeth injury. This is fine. Sit up."

"I can't." Annabeth told him. She might have shrugged if her collarbone allowed it, but it was obvious she'd shattered it. Will nodded like he understood.

"Great. Just…" He sighed. "What do you expect me to say, Annabeth? Here's some ambrosia. It'll help with the broken bones." He tossed Clarisse a bag of it and turned around to his work. "One square at a time, Clarisse. She'll disintegrate if she overdoses."

"Tempting, isn't it?" Clarisse asked. Annabeth flipped her off, but her finger wasn't high enough to even reach Clarisse's periphery and she couldn't move it.

"Fuck you." Annabeth added, just to drive home the point. Clarisse chuckled and stuffed a square hastily into Annabeth's mouth.

"Wouldn't you like to." She said, but Annabeth wasn't paying attention.

All she could really focus on was the ambrosia. She'd been expecting the usual- vanilla fudge that Silena Beauregard used to sneak into Camp and share with Annabeth on late nights they spent talking shit about other campers and catching up on the latest music. Now, she couldn't quite place it.

The ambrosia tasted sweet, a little reminiscent of Camp s'mores, but also… more. She could taste salt- salt like swims in the sea and Percy Jackson's lips. There were traces of other, less tangible memories on her tongue. For a second, she was taken to a quiet, fancy restaurant in Paris, and then, in another, Aunty Em's delicious burgers for a famished stomach. Damasen's drakon soup and the slim hope of Percy surviving and then Percy's pizza moments before she got carted off to a solo death quest. She shut her eyes and let the ambrosia fill her up, fill her up, fill her up.

There was no doubt the ambrosia would fix her bones, but she feared it would make her heart explode. She tried to memorize every flavour- freedom and youthful naïveté and adventure and so, so, so much love. Her eyes began to well with tears.

"Are you okay?" Will asked. He dropped his bottles and rushed over to her side. Annabeth nodded wordlessly. She didn't want to speak, afraid that she'd lose the lingering aftertaste. Will frowned. "Annabeth, you're crying."

Annabeth shook her head. She was fine. Better than fine. She was fantastic. Even as her bones were being mended and her body bandaged up magically, she felt like she could take on the world.

"Sorry." She said when she was sure she'd savored every last moment of her godly medicine. "It just tasted…"

"Annabeth!" As if right on cue, Percy's face appeared at the infirmary door. His thick brows were stitched together in concern and his lips were turned down. His eyes sparkled with thinly concealed rage, as if he was one minor inconvenience away from strangling everybody in sight. His gaze fell on Annabeth, and instantly his shoulders relaxed. His expression went from anger to confusion to worry and with three large steps, he'd crossed over to stand by her side.

"Hey. You're crying." He said softly, elbowing Clarisse out of the way and taking her hand. She glared at him but Percy gave no indication that he'd even noticed her. "Jesse told me what had happened. How are you feeling?" He asked.

Annabeth took him in- his hair, messy as ever and the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. The light pink of his cheeks from when he was exercising and the sharp angle of his jaw, and she felt another surge of emotion rise in her throat. Tears stung at her eyes again and she felt her bottom lip quiver.

"Okay." She said weakly.

Percy leaned down and pressed his lips gently to hers, better than any ambrosia or nectar she'd ever tasted. Percy only ever needed that- with one kiss, he could fix her. Shattered heart, ribs and dreams alike, there was no problem, no ail in the nice universe that couldn't be cured with Percy Jackson.

"Good." He told her as he pulled away. Then he frowned and licked his lips. "Was that ambrosia?"
"Yeah, and she was just about to tell us what it felt like before you came barging in." Clarisse said, glaring daggers at the back of Percy's head. He looked over at her and then gave her the finger.

"Fuck off." He told her. Clarisse rolled her eyes but Annabeth could tell she was fighting back a smile. As much as she liked to antagonize both Percy and Annabeth, Clarisse was just a big softie on the inside. Percy turned back to Annabeth and Will folded his arms over his chest and looked at her expectantly.

"Well, Annabeth?" He asked. "What did it taste like?"

Annabeth glanced at Percy's fingers, laced through hers, and then at the fond smile on his lips that lit a warmth in her chest like nothing else could.

"Happiness." She said finally. "It tastes like happiness."