One Shots feat. PJO, Irondad, and More!

Sea-riously Suspicious: Part 1

Scarprofile- here's part one ;)

I'm thinking. Peter lives in Queens. The Tower is in Manhattan.

Percy lives in Manhattan.

So... behold- there will be more parts because these guys are getting lengthy and I wanted to post some instead of a 10K block of words. Quintessential 4 is on it's way, but here's this for now! :)

Peter didn't think he'd ever been so excited to hear the bell ring. 

The day had been good, despite the mugginess of the December air. Flash was out because of the stomach flu that had been going around, so his classes were peaceful and quiet for once. They'd all gotten their chemistry projects back, and he and Ned had scored the highest in the class- to which MJ gave them a quiet congratulations that made him feel like a million bucks. Lunch had been chicken nuggets, which everyone knew was the best out of the usual line-up, and Mr. Harrington had cancelled the decathlon meeting because of some excuse with his wife. 

Better yet, there'd been a sub in Spanish. The brunet had powered through the busy work in minutes before finishing the rest of the day's homework. He had no responsibilities that afternoon, except for of course dinner with May. But that wasn't until 7. That meant he had nearly an entire three hours to do whatever the hell he wanted.

And whatever the hell he wanted was, of course, to patrol his city.

He spent no time throwing a haphazard goodbye to Ned before busting out the school doors. He dodged the other students flooding out of the building, running past the school before skittering into his favorite back alley.  With a quick look around to prove he was alone, he dropped his bag to the ground and dug into the bottom pocket for the red and blue material. 

Peter rolled his eyes with a smile when he thought of what Mr. Stark might say about him shoving the multi-million suit under a bunch of old textbooks. He would feel bad about it, but it was made to be durable. If it could handle a fight with Captain America, it could handle a teenager's backpack.

 The brisk air bit at his skin as he stripped off his jeans and sweater in exchange for the bagginess of the suit. "Coldcoldcoldcoldcoldcoldcold-" he sang while jumping around in the fabric to position it right. It only encouraged him to go faster.

His fingers bobbed over the small spider emblem emblazoned on his chest. The material tightened across his body and he couldn't help but grin giddily with nervous energy.

"Good afternoon, Peter."

"Hi Karen," he beamed, shoving his forgotten clothes into his backpack. "Could you turn on the heaters, please?" he asked as he snaked up the brick wall. A happy sigh escaped him when she- it?- obliged to his request. He loved the heater function. It was like putting on pants straight out of the dryer, except they stayed perpetually warm. He loved it.

Graphics flashed across his vision once he reached the rooftop. Forty three degrees outside. Suit was functioning. Web fluid was at 67% in the left shooter, 70 in the other. There was a minor fender bender three blocks away that the police were already attending to. 

He shoved his bag under an air conditioning unit and clapped. "Alright, let's do this."

"What would we like to do today?" the AI questioned kindly. 

Peter laughed happily, bouncing on his heels. God, he was in a good mood. He didn't think anything could ruin it. "Anything, Karen. Find me anything."

"Mr. Stark suggests 'dog-walking' and 'homework," Karen replied sarcastically. Sarcastically?Could programs be sarcastic? Peter supposed Mr. Stark could make them do whatever he wanted; he was a genius, after all.