Work Text:
Percy rifled through the mail, holding up an unmarked envelope with one hand. “Mom, do you know who could have sent this?”
“No idea, Percy,” Sally said.
He opened the letter, frowning when he realized that it was all in Greek.
Perseus Jackson, it read.
Pick up these people at the following addresses:
Peter Parker, XXth Street, house number XX.
Hayden Haddock, XXth Street, house number XX.
Jack Frost will meet you at Mr. Haddock’s house.
Percy cracked his neck contemplatively. Okay, this all made sense.
In order to prove your identity, you will say “Get in, loser, we’re going shopping.”
Percy sighed. Of course a secret government agency would use Mean Girls quotes to prove people’s identities.
(Okay, he’ll admit he didn’t see that one coming.)
The letter was signed with a neat Agent Phil Coulson, and stamped with an official-looking black eagle, the letters SHIELD printed in military-style blocky font next to it.
Percy blinked – once, twice, shook his head, and then grabbed his red lifeguard hoodie and the keys to Paul’s Prius on his way out.
“Get in, loser, we’re going shopping.”
Peter looked over the lip of the roof. A blue Prius idled in the street; the window was rolled down and a teenager no older than Peter himself stuck his head out the window.
“Shopping?” Peter asked, a bit slowly, and then he remembered the letter placed on his windowsill, all creepy and just reeking of Secret Spy Agency.
“Yeah, I don’t know, either,” the boy said. “Let’s go, tell your aunt you’re going to your internship, all that.”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t get your thong in a twist.” Peter scampered off the roof, smirking at the other teen’s indignant hey!
“I want to do the thing,” Peter whined.
“Fine, whatever, Petey,” Percy said with a sigh. He rolled down his window. “Do the thing.”
“Get in, losers, we’re going shopping!” Peter said, with an appropriate squeal.
Someone slid into the backseat. Percy glanced in the rearview mirror – a white-haired teenage boy sat in the backseat, wearing a blue hoodie.
Doesn’t it get a little warm in the summer? he asked himself, but shook off the thought as the door of the house he was watching slammed open.
A lanky brunette was practically thrown out onto the street by a massive dragon (okay, maybe it was a bit more of a strong push) and he clambered into the backseat, and had Percy not had so many near-death experiences, he would have been surprised.
But as it was, Percy was not surprised when the dragon hooked its tail around the doorknob and slammed the door shut.
“Okay, here are the rules,” Percy said, looking away and shifting the car into gear. “No lighting the car on fire, no freezing it, no destroying it, try not to have mythical monsters land on it, the whole nine yards.”
“One question,” Hiccup said from the backseat, a cat curling across his shoulders. “Why Mean Girls?”
“I don’t know! Maybe it’s because they’ve got a big, fat, lesbian crush on you,” Peter said.