The Avengers meet Percabeth

Steve Rogers Part 1

Steve hated the water as a general rule now. Ever since the devastating crash down into the waves over a hundred years ago, he hadn't even been able to enjoy a shower. He'd had them, but only for seconds. Only for as long as required.

Water seemed to taunt him, tease him. It seemed to say 'one wrong move and your back with me, only not temporarily. Forever.'

And that was why it sucked that Thor had chosen the beach for their three day weekend. Urititi beach. Way off in some small country called Aotearoa.

At least it was out of the city.

However, after hours in a VIP plane and two more in a car, he was sick or travelling and wished they could have chosen somewhere closer. When they passed a sign that said Ruakaka, and the batches started appearing, he took it as a good sign.

"Ten more minutes!" Called Tony from his spot in shotgun; next to Natasha, who insisted she drive. ("We need to get to Urititi before sundown!"

"I'll drive!" Shouted an eager Natasha.

"Why not me?" Whined Wanda.

"Because I don't care if I die and I drive like it.")

As the sea came into view, with waves crashing continuously like mountains building up and smashing down in crashes of whitewash, Steve knew without a doubt that he wanted to be there. He wanted to join the infinitesimal number of people in the surf.

"Should we go in?" Asked Tony, the only one of them who wasn't 99% jetlagged.

Natasha's stink eye shut him up pretty quick.

Steve was passed out on the couch before whatever horrible concoction Tony was cooking up could be served up as dinner.

When he woke up, the first thing he felt was cold. He reached his hand out to grab an extra blanket and felt moisture. And then he smelt the salt. It seemed to cling to the air for dear life, infesting his nose.

The only other smell in the air was sweat. Where it came from was a mystery, until a soaking wet arm touched his and his eyes flew open.

They were on the ocean. Floating way out at sea. He couldn't even see land. No birds, either.

All he could see was the man sitting beside him. It took all of his self control not to freak out and shove him off. "Oh. You're up."

His voice surprised Steve. It had the same NY accent he was trying to escape. Had he floated all the way to Thames? "Where are we?"

"Somewhere in the Pacific . . ." Said the guy.

Steve took the guy in. From his appearance, he looked about young enough to be Steve's great-grandson. And buff enough to be his look alike. But the similarities ended their. While he was blonde and sky eyed, the man - or boy, rather - was a ruffle haired ravenette with eyes the same shade as the churning water they were on.

Speaking of which, "we're on a lilo." He observed aloud.

(For those that don't know, a lilo is an inflatable air-bed that's waterproof (the ideal river raft until it pops))

"How did we get here?" He tried not to sound too accusing.

"Well, I saw some poor guy drifting on an air-bed way out at sea and swam over. You however, I'm not sure."

Steve didn't comment on the fact that the guy saw him from all the way out at sea, or that he swam out and got on a lilo floating out at sea. He didn't know how he got off the couch, let alone out to sea. Though he had a sneaking suspicion that Tony had something to do with it.

"I'm not sure either," he said aloud.

"Well," announced the guy so loudly Steve would be embarrassed in a public place. "Where do you want to go?"

"Can we go to Urititi beach?"

"NZ?"

"YEAH . . ." Steve didn't actually know if that was true or not, but it would be nice to have both of his feet back on dry land.

"Okay, are you sure I can't convince you to go back to sleep?" He asked, which was weird, 'cause Steve just woke up.

HMMM. "Promise not to kill me and steal the clothes off my back?"

"Well, I haven't so far. What's to say that I will?"

Steve squinted at him in humor and lay back down. After less than ten minutes the sound of the waves had lulled him back to sleep, and the stress was no more. Apparently, jetlag didn't love Steve. Or maybe it loved him too much.

Either way, he was pretty well passed out.

When he woke up, he was on the beach within sight of the beach. He could pass his whole excursion on sleepwalking and say it never happened. Aside from the phone number on his wrist. 368 49 639 326 55 841. (don't actually call that because idk what/who'll answer.)

And that was when Steve decided to get a phone.