Gone With The Tides - (Percy Jackson/Avengers Story) [boyxboy]

'Tis a Random

"We're running from a thing! And it's YOUR fault!" Peter yells as we sprint across the green grass of Central Park.

"Uh—! What?" His words stun me to a momentary stop. My fault? I don't think so, buddy. An animalistic growl causes me to frantically begin sprinting again to catch up with Peter. "How is this my fault?!"

"This—" Peter waves his arms all around us in a 'look-at-what's-going-on' way. "—is because you kept poking me with your damn stick and made me forget my ball!"

I snicker childishly at his choice of words.

"You know what I mean, Percy!" He snaps out with red cheeks.

I let out a breathy laugh, "Yeah, I know. Jus' couldn't help it."

We keep running, silently trying to catch our breaths.

"...Still don't see how this is my fault though. I definitely don't see how it's Pokey's fault," I mutter quietly not intending for him to hear it.

"Pokey? —You felt the need to name your freaking stick?"

"Uh... duh?"

"Whatever! The point is, you distracted me!"

"When don't I?" I ask with a smirk.

Peter huffs in response.

"You set yourself up for those."

Without even looking at him I know he's giving me a really annoyed look. "Percy..." he says dangerously.

I sigh as much as I can at the pace we're running at. "Alright, alright. Look, I'm sorry for distracting you. I know it's hard to resist my charming boyish looks—"

"—Percy!"

"—geez, fine! I'm sorry I like to bother you so much! I just can't help it. You're just so... nice."

Peter looks back at me with a raised eyebrow as if to check whether I'm serious or not. "That's actually the lamest excuse ever, dude. 'You're just so nice'. Pfft whatever. M.J. is nice, too. Why didn't you poke her?"

I give him the dryest look I can manage. "Would you poke M.J. with a stick?"

He twists his face up in thought before replying, "... fair enough."

We keep running until we get to a small clearing, Peter and I clutching our sides from all the running.

I collapse to the floor and stare up at the blue, cloudless sky. Mid-October and we still had the nice 50s-60s weather.

"I think we lost it..." I say lightly.

Peter laughs nervously, "Don't count on it."

"Really. I think we lost it a while back. I haven't heard it." I pat the ground next to me.

Eventually, Peter slides down next to me where we just lay on our backs staring at the clouds. 

Peter sighs dejectedly, "I didn't even get my ball..." His voice is so genuinely sad I feel immensely bad about the stick. I silently take Pokey out of my bag and throw him back into the woods.

"I... owe you a ball, Pete."

"Eh. Don't worry about it, Perce. I can get a new ball," he says nudging my arm. I smile slightly.

"If you're sure... Ah, shoot! I got homework, I gotta head home."

"Same. You taking the bus or the train today?" Peter asks as he gets up brushing himself off. He extends a hand towards me and I take it, allowing him to pull me up. We begin the trot out of the Sheep's Meadow and towards the fifty-ninth street exit.

"Oh, and what you said earlier? About you bothering me? Not a thing. You're never a bother to me." He slings his jacketed arm over my shoulders and we walk to Columbus Circle to head home.

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Hey, guys. I'm going to try and update more often. For now, I just did this little writing Etude. (Etude: short musical composition, typically for one instrument, designed as an exercise to improve the technique or demonstrate the skill of the player.) That kinda means, in my eyes anyway, that this is a little writing exercise for me and I thought I might as well share it with you guys. I might publish more of these that I've done but I haven't decided yet. Any etudes I share in this story will be strictly in the same universe with the same characters, it's just something extra.

I'm so rewriting this shit when I finish it.

~ P.S.BROOKLYN

<Re-uploaded>