Chapter Text
The Chitauri soldier roared as Percy plunged Riptide into the side of its leg. From the sidelines, Nat shot the alien with its own gun. “Up top!” Percy exclaimed, holding his hand out for a high five. Nat had already moved on to the next soldier. Instead, Captain America returned the gesture.
“Can’t believe the guy from the 40’s gave me a high five,” Percy said to Nat, putting a hand over his heart. “Do you even care, Natasha?”
“Not especially,” Nat responded. Ouch.
The fighting had taken them to a bridge over the East River, and Percy’s temptation to use his powers grew. He could easily save their strength by just bringing up some river water to swipe away the Chitauri soldiers blocking their passage. He could even bring up a wave high enough to hit some of the flying chariots, all while keeping Nat, Captain America, and himself dry and on land. But no. He had to do this the (mostly) mortal way. This isn’t a normal situation, he reminded himself. They can literally see Thor, who exists now. Does that mean the Mist isn’t working?
Better to be safe than sorry, a mental voice (that sounded a lot like Chiron) reasoned.
That thought didn’t make it any easier to hold back when he watched a Chitauri soldier corner Nat onto a car. She fought it off easily enough; Percy would’ve intervened if she didn’t, but at this rate, they would be exhausted in the next couple of hours.
“Are we sure there isn’t a way to shut that portal?” Percy asked. “We can’t contain this forever.”
“We’re already spread too thin,” Captain America shouted. He punched a soldier, knocking it to the ground. It tried to get back up again with a sweep to the captain’s legs, but quickly found itself pinned under the captain’s boot. “We can’t really do any recon. Loki’s got a scientist up there who’s under the control of the Tesseract and heavily guarded.”
“I’m sorry, under the control of the Tesseract?” Percy said, faltering in his step for a second. A soldier tackled him, but he slashed it across the ribcage and kicked it off of himself before it could do any real damage. “And couldn’t we just fight our way to the top?”
“It’s possible,” Nat said, eying some of the flying chariots.
Percy caught onto the idea pretty quickly. “I’m not riding on one of those things.”
“Good thing I know a thing or two about hijacking,” Nat said. “Captain, if I could get a bit of a boost…”
Captain America nodded, holding out his shield at an angle. Percy would’ve watched Nat hijack the chariot had he not been defending the pair. More Chitauri soldiers had come up on them while they were getting set up, and while Percy was glad for the faith they had in him, he quickly got overwhelmed without the extra support. And they just kept on coming.
He ended up cornered on the edge of the bridge. The fall into the East River definitely wouldn’t kill him, but it could be difficult to explain the aftermath. And it would be disgusting.No demigod stuff. That’s a hard rule.
Captain America quickly rejoined the fight once he’d, presumably, boosted Nat onto a flying chariot. Percy caught glimpses of him fighting his way through the crowd, dividing the soldiers’ attention between foes on both sides. Percy, however, was being pushed towards the concrete railing of the bridge. Get out, get out, get out. Getting pinned against the bridge was liable to kill him, depending on how he hit it. Even if he didn’t die, the impact would be painful and could potentially reveal his back as a weakness. Damned curse. Saves the world once and decides to be a pain in the ass for the rest of my life.
The limited fighting space forced him to use more hand-to-hand and didn’t allow for the same liberties he usually took for granted while fighting, such as the ability to take his enemies off guard with a newly resummoned Riptide. He simply didn’t have time to pull it out.
One of the aliens had somehow reached his camp necklace and held it in a vice grip. He was the worst kind of target to be: an unmoving one. Even with their attention divided, the Chitauri were still formidable foes. In uncoordinated attacks, they were tolerable, but in situations like these, they were nearly impossible to shake.
Percy looked at the East River again. Fuck it. The Mist would cover most of the demigod stuff, right? Even with all of the aliens and stuff it should still hold up. And I could get someone to tell camp I'll be late. I will not be showing up to my own funeral again.
“Hey, Captain?” Percy yelled, hoping the man would hear him. “How do you feel about stupid decisions?”
“They get people killed!” Captain America shouted back. “And I’d be very pissed if you made one right now!”
Percy grinned. “But what if it’s only stupid for most people?”
“I’d still be pissed!”
“But this stupid decision is the right stupid decision!” His grin widened when he heard Captain America speak again.
“Riptide, I swear to God, if you-”
Percy didn’t wait for the man to finish. He slid himself over the top of the railing that had previously been keeping him in place, snapping his camp necklace in the process. I’ll grab that later, he reasoned, before diving headfirst into the East River.
-
Steve had seen many things during the war. Germany, weird science experiments, and a man with fake skin concealing a red skull (who went by the “Red Skull”) just to name a few. He had never seen anyone willingly take a dive into the East River.
Riptide was as stubborn as a born and raised New Yorker, and had the accent to match. Why the kid (because that was a child underneath the sunglasses and blood-soaked hoodie) would dive into one of the filthiest rivers known to man, he didn’t know.
Steve had been trying his hardest to fight his way through the crowd, but the amount of soldiers that had surrounded the pair was absurd. Were they waiting for the trio to take a break, even if it was just a small one?
Now, he was alone on the bridge. All of the soldiers who had been focused on Riptide diverted their attention to their new target. Shit. The kid couldn’t have waited another second, could he?
He threw his shield out, hoping to catch as many Chitauri off guard as he could. If Riptide were still fighting along the edge of the bridge, he would have been hit by the attack. But Riptide had jumped off the bridge.
What had the kid been thinking? There had to have been other ways to handle the situation. A coordinated attack would have worked just fine. Instead, the best option was to jump off a bridge. Why?
The soldiers attempted to press in, but Steve continued fighting his way over to the edge of the bridge. More soldiers had come up behind him, but he quickly made his way through them, throwing his shield whenever he deemed it necessary.
When he finally managed to get a good look over the edge of the bridge, there was no sign of Riptide. No unusual water splashes that could show Steve where he had fallen, no figure swimming to the edge. The kid had disappeared.
“Riptide!” Steve yelled as loud as he could. “Riptide!”
“But what if it’s only stupid for most people?”
Jumping into the East River was just plain stupid. A far fall combined with the murky waters below would either lead to disgust or death. Riptide knew that. So why did he jump?
Steve turned away from the bridge, even though he wanted to keep looking. Riptide knew what he was doing (but he was way too young for that. How does a child learn those skills?). Steve would have to get closer to the water for even a chance at spotting the kid, and he could probably find more civilians on the way there. There was no point in waiting for a sign of life he may miss because of distance.
(Steve knew the answer to that question. It came in the form of Natasha and Clint and things that he never considered back in the 1940s, but he now knew were more common than he liked to imagine.)
He had nearly left the area when he saw it. Clutched in one of the fallen soldier’s hands was a rope with beads strung along it. A necklace, Steve realized. He grabbed the necklace out of the Chitauri soldier’s hand, inspecting it. The beads were clearly painted by hand and with care. Some of them were simple in design—such as the black bead with a teal trident—and some were more complex—like the bead with a sprawling maze painted across its entire surface. One of the beads even had writing alongside its painting of a skyscraper clearly modeled after the Empire State Building. Steve didn’t understand the language, but could see the care put into each painted word.
It had been snapped in the back, as though it had been torn off roughly instead of untied, almost certainly belonging to a human. Steve pocketed the necklace. Maybe the owner’s name was somewhere on the necklace, or there would be some other way to return it later. Either way, he wasn’t about to let it be destroyed in the battle.
“That was a bit tight, wasn’t it?” a voice piped up from behind Steve. “Sorry I left you to deal with all those guys.”
Steve’s entire body whirled around to face Riptide, who didn’t even look the slightest bit damp or muddy or worse for wear. Where had he even come from? There’s no way he swam to the side and got back up on the bridge in that short of a time.
“Is that my necklace?” Riptide continued. “Thanks for grabbing it, Cap. I would’ve been looking for it for hours. Sentimental value, ya know?”
So the necklace belonged to Riptide. The kid took the necklace and tied it back around his neck. If Steve hadn’t seen it up close, he might’ve assumed it was just an arts and crafts project. He might ask about it later, but there was something that needed to be addressed first.
“What in the hell were you thinking?” Steve exclaimed. “That was just stupid!”
“Yeah, I told you that before I did it. Don’t ask for permission, ask for forgiveness and all that.” Was Riptide rolling his eyes? Steve could only see the kid’s mouth, but he had a feeling the teenager was making a face.
He wondered if this was what Bucky felt every time Steve jumped into a fight. He didn’t regret any of them, but he sure felt a lot more sympathy for his friend.
“Don’t you give me that,” Steve continued. “It was reckless, kid.”
Riptide shrugged. “It’s what I’m known for.”
Steve sighed. He quickly regretted having sensible priorities and chose to take it up with the kid later. Preferably with a little more sleep. And a few questions to someone who understood how teenagers worked in the 21st century. “Come on,” he said instead, turning around and walking away from the bridge. “There’s other sections to clear.”
Riptide jogged up beside him and kept talking. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget how horrible that river is dude. Do you think I could time travel and find a way to stab the guys who made it that way?”
“It was that dirty when I was a kid. You’d have to go back pretty far,” Steve said. He’s been swimming in the East River before?
“Fell into it once as a kid, never been the same since,” Riptide practically chirped when Steve asked as much. “I think I saw a couch down there the first time.”
Is this a thing kids do for fun now? Steve jumped into a river to catch a member of HYDRA, and even then, he got out as fast as possible. How would Riptide have looked for furniture? Did he go to the bottom? How had he not drowned?
Riptide must have noticed that the answer upset Steve. “I’ll tell you all about it later. You said we have more sections to clear, yeah? Where to next?”
Another explosion sounded in the distance.
Riptide cringed. “I think I have my answer.”