AN: Here's a little fic for those wanting some fluff. Or those wanting revenge, whichever you prefer. This story takes place about 6 months after Percy and Annabeth are married. I started this story a while ago and finally got to finish it because school got out- hopefully I'll be able to write a few more stories this summer. (PM me if you guys have any ideas- my brain is still slightly fried. ) Anyways, here it is. Thanks!

Feathers. Soft and white, encased in a delicate cotton cover. Except for a couple hundred, scattered about the bed. A few were still floating in the air when Annabeth woke up.

Groggy, she slowly sat up and opened her eyes. In mid-stretch, she finally noticed the feathers. Flipping around quickly to face the headboard of the queen bed, she found the culprit. Cuddled up snugly in her husband's arms.

Instantaneously, Annabeth had the inevitable urge to shout, "I told you so, Percy Jackson!"

But this time seemed slightly different. Why, you ask? Because Annabeth suddenly had the urge to throw up.

No, not morning sickness. That wouldn't be coming for a year or two. (At least, according to Annabeth's plan.)

Annabeth wanted to throw up because her hand was sticky and wet. The source of this was a small yellow puddle next to the destroyed pillow, which happened to be hers. Quickly running her clean hand through her hair, she discovered a few more wet spots.

How could this happen? Am I really THAT deep of a sleeper? It was true, though, that Annabeth had slept like a rock that night, her head still bursting with images of blueprints.

Turning back towards the culprit, she assessed the damage more thoroughly. One destroyed feather pillow, one set of fresh sheets that was possibly ruined, and one husband about to get beaten to a pulp. Well, an invulnerable pulp.

Action plan number one: clean up mess, scold Percy, try to salvage sheets by relying on the washing machine.

Nah, too… nice. Maybe "nice" wasn't the right word, but come on, Annabeth was a daughter of Athena. The goddess of wisdom. There had to be something better, something more, shall we say, devious.

Annabeth glanced at the small Yorkshire Terrier sleeping peacefully next to Percy. Of course, she would have preferred a less yappy breed, or, even better, no dog at all, but no. Percy just HAD to have a dog, and their apartment landlord only allowed dogs under five pounds.

Come on, five pounds?

Percy had chosen Oliver's name- it reminded him of Mrs. O' Leary. Right now, Annabeth preferred the giant hellhound over this tiny troublemaker.

Back to the present strategy devising, which was currently nothing. Annabeth had dealt with the most cunning monsters and tricksters before. She also happened to be in the process of redesigning Olympus, Palace of the Gods.

Yet, for some extremely annoying reason, her brain just didn't seem to be functioning correctly right now. She simply could not think of anything good enough to do to get Percy back for the pillows, sheets, mess, pee in her hair and on her hands. Not to mention the 2 A.M. emergency potty walks and last week's brown "presents" on the kitchen floor.

Then, suddenly, it came to her. Not because of her intense deliberating or slightly incredible anger. Just because a plan was desperately needed now, so it came.

Head still quickly coming up with last minute additions to The Plan, Annabeth gently shook Percy awake.

"Seaweed Brain, rise and shine!"

Percy simply grunted and buried his head in his (still completely intact) pillow. Step one might take a little while.

"If you don't get up now, I'm eating the last of your Cocoa Pebbles for my breakfast."

Percy once again stirred, made some unintelligible grunt, but still did not raise his head from the pillow.

Time for Plan Number 47 for the Waking of Percy Jackson. (Annabeth had come up with 50 different ways to wake him up within the first three months of their marriage.)

Annabeth dove her fingers (including the ones with dog pee residue) under Percy's arms. She wiggled them vigorously, smiling triumphantly as he started to squirm.

Percy may be invulnerable, but he'll always be ticklish.

Gasping for breath, Percy finally raised his head, laughing.

"Wise girl, stop, stop! I'm up! Ahhh, stop!" Annabeth was merciless. She didn't let Percy breathe until she was sure he was fully awake.

"What's that smell?"

Annabeth raised her eyebrows. "Look around you."

Percy, slightly bewildered, examined the feathers and the puddle. His expression at first held curiosity, but then transformed into one of dismay.

"Oliver! Bad dog!"

Percy's reprimands did little but to make the small dog stir in his sleep.

Now's the time.

"Oh, Percy, I almost forgot! I made Oliver an appointment at the groomer's. He needs a trim. I know he's just a puppy, but he'll get hot in this summer heat if we don't take him in soon."

Percy nodded, still half asleep.

"I have to run to the store to pick up a few things, so I can take him. While I'm doing that, could you try to straighten the living room up a bit? Don't try anything with the sheets. I'll take care of that, because I want them to at least have a chance to make it back on our bed again clean. Sally and Paul are coming over tonight for dinner. Don't worry- they know it'll be takeout."

Percy nodded again, then promptly plopped his head back onto his pillow and closed his eyes. Annabeth sighed, and headed to the kitchen for breakfast.

About an hour later, Annabeth was quickly weaving her way through New York traffic, Oliver in the front passenger seat, small pink tongue lolling out of his mouth. She made it to the groomer's within about ten minutes. She hadn't actually made and appointment, but already knew that the place welcomed walk-ins.

"Come on, Oliver. Time for revenge."

Annabeth strode in and headed for the small front desk, where she was greeted by a high-school age girl who reminded her a little of Silena.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, thank you. My little Oliver here needs a trim. No, more like a shave. We just found out that my grandmother is allergic to dogs. She visits often, and we want to make her as comfortable as possible without losing our little Oliver."

The girl raised her eyebrows.

"You want to shave all his hair off?"

Annabeth nodded crisply, then smiled, trying as hard as she could to look legitimately concerned.

"Okay, then. That'll be $40. He'll be ready to be picked up in about and hour. Cash or credit?"

While handing over her credit card, Annabeth thought of one more thing.

"Do you have bows?"

The girl, now seeming slightly creeped out, nodded. "That'll be an extra $5."

Annabeth plastered another smile on. "Perfect. Let's do blue then, since he is a boy." She topped it off with a wink. The girl, now fully creeped out, nodded, rang up the credit card, and handed Annabeth the receipt.

"Thanks so much! You said an hour, right? I'll see you then!" Annabeth quickly deposited Oliver into the girl's arms and walked out the door and to the car, where she instantly started laughing. Five minutes later, she was still laughing softly as she put the car in reverse and headed towards the grocery store, where she now had an hour to waste.

After looking through about ten different aisles to find Percy's favorite brand of peanut butter, Annabeth finally made the last scratch on her list. She quickly headed for self checkout. But, of course, her machine decided to malfunction. She stood behind the store worker, impatiently tapping her foot.

When he finally fixed the dumb machine, according to Annabeth's watch, she was running about ten minutes late. Annabeth hated being late, even if it was to pick up an annoying little dog that would now be hairless and decked out in a bow.

Practically sprinting to the car, Annabeth finally headed on her way, hitting two red lights on the way.

"You're late. That'll be a $10 fine." Annabeth restrained herself from glaring at the girl at the counter while quickly digging out her wallet.

"Where's Ollie? You took good care of him, right?"

The girl pointed to a stack of kennels on the left side of the wall. Oliver sat, wagging his tail (which now resembled one of a rat instead of a dog) and squirming upon seeing Annabeth. She had to keep herself from laughing out loud at the sight of him. He looked like, well, not to be repetitive, but, a rat. A rat with a bow on his neck and two matching ribbons on his skinny ears.

"Thank you! Grandma will be able to enjoy our little bundle of joy fully now! Awww, the ribbons add the perfect touch!"

The girl didn't even react this time. Annabeth sugar coated her voice as the girl put Oliver into Annabeth's arms.

"My wittle Ollie-poo! You look AHdorable!"

She grabbed a biscuit out of the jar on the counter for good measure and waved to the girl on her way out.

Percy, I hope you're the type who likes rats.

Annabeth had never taken the time to find out, but now she would.

"Is that Oliver? Are you sure he didn't get switched? I mean, that happens to babies in the hospital all the time- I just saw a story about it on the news."

Annabeth feigned innocence.

"You watch the news? Since when?"

Percy was bewildered. Almost speechless. "Are those ribbons?

Annabeth simply grinned. "Aren't they a nice shade of blue?"

"Wise Girl, what's going on? Somehow, you don't seem very disturbed. We no longer own a dog, we have a freaking rat!"

Annabeth held on to her placid expression and "fondly" scratched Oliver's ears.

Percy's eyes narrowed. "You had something to do with this, didn't you? Oh gods, how stupid am I?" He rolled his eyes.

"If I hadn't been so tired this morning, I would have known that you wouldn't be willing to take Oliver to the groomer's- you don't like being seen in public with a purse pooch." (Annabeth thought of this particular nickname.)

Percy was now pacing the living room, slowly putting the obvious together.

"It was because he peed on your pillow, wasn't it? I should've seen it coming."

Annabeth rolled his eyes while Percy (very) slowly accepted defeat.

"Well, I guess that's what I get for marrying a daughter of Athena."

Annabeth smirked. She walked over to where Percy was standing, gingerly put the "rat" in his arms, and kissed him on the cheek.

"If I can't salvage these sheets, you'll have to run over to Crate & Barrel to pick up a new set- that's the closest store that sells linens."

She started to unpack the groceries, then paused.

"One more thing. If Oliver ever pees in our bed again, you two will be sleeping on the couch."