and wow I don't want a boyfriend or a girlfriend or a wedding really but weddings

For my wifey Mari, who threw me a challenge last night: “My friend came back to these changing rooms twenty minutes ago to try on a bunch of clothes and in my impatience I came barging into what I thought was their room but actually it was yours and I burst in when you were stripped down to your underwear. Who’s blushing more, you or me?” AU. 

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Annabeth’s been loitering around the back of the boutique long enough that the sales associate is starting to stare at her. She gets it–her time would be better spent looking for things to buy, but she’s already picked a dress and a pair of heels for Silena and Charlie’s wedding in a couple weeks, and she doesn’t really need anything else. The dress, as it’s been explained to her by the now obnoxiously staring associate, is a beautiful backless a-line, in a “stunning deep amethyst, and just look at that hemline, dear, it’s so perfect with those legs!”

“Thanks,” Annabeth had said, dryly, mostly to cover the flush rising up her chest.

It is a pretty dress. And she looks good in it. Which is why she’s currently hanging out around the back of the store, her dress waiting on the back of a nearby chair, and texting Piper. ‘She just keeps staring?’

‘PUNCH HER.’

‘I’d rather you not get me arrested again, thanks. And thanks for bailing on Ladies Brunch, by the way.’

‘Hey, I wasn’t the only one, I have a dress already, AND Silena needed me! It was an EMERGENCY, AB.’

Annabeth snorts. She’s in the middle of a reply, trying to verify the exact nature of the emergency, if this one, this time, might be related to the dress or the catering or the reception space, when there’s a loud thud that comes from the dressing rooms. She and the associate exchange concerned glances. Annabeth pockets her phone and steps forward.

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