PERSEUS MEANS DESTROYER

Riptide

Taken away to the dark side,

I wanna be your left-hand man.

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Tony fucking Stark.

He waved Percy over, and he was briefly taken on by the idea of completely ignoring the man and two gods.

Percy ended up deciding that making a bad impression on them probably wouldn't be the best idea right now.

Loki chuckled derisively as he limped over, and Percy shot him a sharp glare. "Shut it, Antlers."

"Or what?" 'Antlers' contorted his face into a cruel mimicry of rage. "You'll poke me with your walking stick?"

Percy shrugged. "I've got half a mind to. And I have something right here that would probably do a lot more damage." He patted his pocket with his free hand.

Percy backed off a bit when he noticed Thor clenching his fists. Clearly, he didn't appreciate some stranger threatening his brother.

"Sorry, dude. I'm just... high strung right now, I guess."

Thor's face tightened a bit, and Tony took a handful of steps away from the god.

Finally, he exhaled heavily. "Your apology is accepted. It is a pleasure to meet you..."

"Percy. Perseus. Whatever."

"Avenger, destroyer. And... you are Greek?"

Percy could guess Thor's actual meaning and gave him a short nod.

Thor laughed heartily, grinning broadly. "Named after the Greek hero, slayer of Medusa?"

Percy smiled awkwardly. "Yeah. Mom says she chose it because he's one of the only ones who got a happy ending."

Not that his story had finished.

Not that it had a happy ending yet, either.

Thor paused to consider it for a moment. "Yes. And you are the renowned Perseus Jackson."

It wasn't a question, but it gave Percy a pause, trying to figure out if he needed to answer.

He settled on another nod.

And that was it. Thor knew.

And now Percy was stuck right back where he had been—he was known, and therefore expected to perform. Just like a clown at the fucking circus.

Clint clicked his tongue quietly. "Renowned? How come we've never heard of you, then?"

Percy didn't bother turning around to answer. "We work in different spheres. You guys handle mostly mortal affairs, and I handle the stuff you don't."

He might have been better off if he hadn't slid the word mortal into the sentence, but it was the clearest way he could think to phrase it at the time, and it wasn't like his 'regular mortal' cover was holding up very well anyway.

Clint ran a hand through his hair, then over one ear, calling out to the silhouetted figures. "Perseus, you do at least know we fought off aliens last year, right? I wouldn't call that 'mortal affairs'. Where were you then?"

He snorted. "It's not exactly what I normally deal with either. And that would've been your first time with that shit right? So I reckon I've done a pretty solid job, Mister Bird."

'Mister Bird'. Okay. Two can play at that game.

"Clearly not a good enough of one, if something slipped through, Mister Popular."

Loki was appreciating the show.

Having the archer and his new 'supervisor' ribbing each other was definitely getting close to entertainment.

The best part was that it was clearly one–sided—the Perseus fellow had straightened when Hawkeye took a stab at him.

And he looked dangerous.

Loki wanted to see how far this would be pushed before someone stepped in.

Perseus's first instinct seemed to be to shove a hand into his pocket and completely ignore the archer.

Ah, here it comes—

"I wasn't good enough? Aren't you guys the ones who could barely beat back a dozen or so bugs, even with the help of a damn god?"

Clearly, Perseus knew they were a bit more than bugs (the Chitauri definitely resembled them though).

But if this was the Perseus Jackson, who had somehow wormed his way through more than 6 Grecian prophecies and four major religions, then he had almost every right to belittle Hawkeye in return.

...

Of course he was the Perseus Jackson.

How many women named their children 'Perseus' anymore?

"As much as I hate to interrupt your testosterone fest, I believe it would be better if this was continued in a more secure location." Natasha side–eyed Loki, who smiled in what he intended to come across as innocent, but based on her slight recoil probably looked closer to a threatening leer.

Percy wasn't too sure about any of these people.

Tony and Natasha had already pretty much ruined any chance of friendship.

Bruce was fine, but he was also kind of just neutral. He hadn't done anything particularly in one direction or the other.

Steve seemed to sort of just exist at this point. And Clint kind of came across as a hit of an arse but Percy had only known these guys for two days.

Thor and Loki were gods.

Which kind of automatically put Percy off of them.

But he figured he'd at least give them a chance, especially if he was about to be stuck with them for gods know how long (hopefully a few months at most; however long it takes for the Nordic gods to sort out a trial or something).

So it turned out they were staying in the stupid flying ship overnight.

Helicarrier, Steve called it.

They'd dropped Loki off in the holding cells, and Thor had left to report back to Odin.

The group—him, Steve, Bruce, Clint, Natasha and Tony—had eaten dinner in the loosest definition of together they could manage when seated at one (admitted large) table.

One of the workers on board had told him where to find the bunks—he was planning on heading there next.

He wasn't really going to start doing his 'job' until the next day.

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First published ::: 14.06.22
First edit ::: n/a
Wordcount ::: 946
Chapter dedication ::: n/a

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Yours, l0v3rboy_