Greetings,

So I had this idea a while ago and this document has been sitting in my folder for ages, so I thought I'd finish it and post it. I am a sucker for Percy Jackson/Avengers crossovers.

The timeline in both universes is set back a bit. Also Civil War doesn't happen in this story. Sorry, my friends, but I have other plans...

Percy Jackson Universe: After The Last Olympian

Marvel/Avengers Universe: After Avengers movie and the Chitauri Invasion

I don't know how often I will update, but each chapter will be a story in itself (kinda).

I love feedback!

Without further adeu, on with the story!

Chapter 1 Hawk

Clint wasn't getting paid enough for this. Seriously, he needed a raise.

It had been three weeks since the Chitauri had invaded Manhattan, led by Loki, and the Avengers had sprung into action and saved the day. Three weeks since he'd been rendered senseless and forced to fight his own partner for the benefit of some Asgardian trickster.

Really, he was fine. Loki hadn't done any permanent damage, if you didn't count the reoccurring nightmares that plagued him some nights.

He just needed to get out for a while. Take a mission, some time for himself. The usual. Nat had offered to accompany him but he'd waved her off.

"It's a simple mission," he'd said. "Piece of cake."

Of course, that simple mission found him on the receiving end of a chase through the streets of Manhattan in the middle of the night. The fire escape had been the only option and, to be frank, Clint wasn't in the position to be picky. He'd pulled himself up and crouched with his back against the wall, his figure masked in shadow. His arm burned and he felt something wet trickle through his fingers. He grimaced.

He'd been better.

Below, men in dark clothing moved quietly, searching with low beamed flashlights. He could just make out their guns, ready to pump him full of lead.

Maybe they'd look up and miss him. Maybe they'd not look up at all and leave. The SHIELD agent kept as still as he could. He didn't dare make a sound. Yeah, he could wait it out. Just wait for them to leave and high tail it to SHIELD for a report. He'd laugh about this with Nat tomorrow. Just a little longer and he'd be safe.

Then the window opened.

Clint shot forward and slapped his hand over the window-opener's mouth. "Shut up if you want to live," he hissed.

In the dim light of the city, he saw that he'd just scared the living daylights out of teenager. Oh hell.

The teen nodded quickly. Clint removed his hand and the teen silently (oh thank goodness) glanced down at the alley below. He ducked backward quickly. A flashlight shone its beam a few metres to the right of the fire escape.

Clint held his breath, forcing himself to stay as rigid as possible until the light passed on. That was too close.

The teen tapped his arm. He motioned inside.

Inside was dark. Inside was good.

Clint didn't hesitate.

The teen helped the agent through the window and shut it, pulling the blinds down. He peeked out through the blinds. Even in the darkness, Clint could see that he was as tense as a rope, his shoulders stiff and his right hand clenched around something.

After a few tense minutes, he said, "They're gone."

Clint allowed himself to relax and sink to the floor, the tension and adrenaline of the situation giving way to a wave of fatigue. But he wasn't out of the dark yet.

"I'm going to switch a light on," the teen said quietly. There was a click and a small lamp illuminated a small, but tidy bedroom.

In the dim light, Clint got a good look at his saviour. The teen had dark, unruly hair that stuck up in all directions, likely from the fact that he'd been asleep minutes before. He was well-built, about sixteen, with perfectly tanned skin. A jacket with the words GOODE SWIM TEAM across one arm had been thrown over his pajamas. Brilliant sea green eyes looked him over for a moment before the teen reached under his bed and pulled out a first aid kit.

"I'm guessing those weren't your friends," he said, rummaging through the kit. "What'd they get you with?"

"Knife," Clint replied, a little stunned. The teen nodded as if he'd just told him the time of day. "Is it a regular for you to find someone on your fire escape?"

"Not really," the teen said. He pulled out a roll of bandages. "Well, I thought you were…someone else." He gestured to Clint's arm. "Let me see."

Clint eyed him with suspicion. He was overly calm for someone who had just helped hide a bleeding man.

"Dude, chill. You're going to get blood on my carpet. If I wanted you dead, I'd have left you," the teen said in exasperation. They locked eyes, sea green against ice blue, neither one of them willing to back down. The agent was trained for this sort of thing. He could go all night.

But he really didn't have all night. His arm burned and he could feel the blood seeping through his fingers and he's lost a significant amount of blood already. And the kid hadn't done anything to deem him untrustworthy, rather the opposite.

With a huff, he held out his arm. The kid scooted closer and peeled Clint's sleeve up so get a better look at the wound.

He cleaned it gently with water (When had he fetched that?) and dressed it with antiseptic which stung, but the agent was used to that after years in the field. The kid seemed to know what he was doing, Clint had to give him that. He must have guessed what he was thinking because he said. "I get into a lot of fights. You pick it up pretty quickly."

He wrapped Clint's arm up tightly in clean white bandages and gathered up the bloody gauze, depositing it in a nearby wastebasket.

"I'm Percy, by the way."

"Clint."

"So what'd you do to have those guys on your tail?"

"Bit of everything," Clint shrugged, wincing slightly. "What were you doing opening the window to a stranger?"

Percy just raised an eyebrow. "Man aggravates guys with bow and arrow in the middle of the night. I know this is New York, but seriously." He paused. "Actually I don't really want to know. You can keep your secrets, dude. I thought you were my cousin."

"Your cousin comes through the window?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Let's just say he doesn't know how knock on a regular basis."

There was a pause, not an uncomfortable one, to his surprise. It blanketed the small room, welcoming after his chase through the city.

Percy fidgeted for a moment before he broke the silence. "My mom made cookies earlier. Or, um," he glanced at the clock. "Make that yesterday. You want some?"

Clint shrugged. "Why not."

"Sweet." Percy opened the bedroom door and padded into the hallway.

Clint took the time to get a proper look around the room. It was a typical teenager's room, though much neater than most. A picture of Percy and a pretty blonde girl was framed on the desk, along with a couple pictures with an old man in a wheel chair and a large boy with dark sunglasses. The desk was also covered in school notes, though a number of them were written in what Clint recognized as Greek. The kid must be taking a course.

The only thing out of the ordinary was a large cow(?) horn that was sitting on the shelf above his desk. A souvenir, perhaps.

The teen reappeared minutes later with a plate of…blue cookies, closing the door softly behind him. He must have seen Clint's puzzled expression because he cracked a grin and joined him on the floor. "The blue's an inside joke. They're the best."

Clint had to give him that. The cookies were delicious. Soon the plate was finished and Percy put the empty plate on the desk.

"What were you even doing up, by the way?" the agent asked.

"Couldn't sleep."

"Ah." Clint didn't push it. Back at the tower, couldn't sleep was a common phrase when you were defending the city from mass destruction.

He wondered what sort of trouble a kid could get into to warrant insomnia. Not that he could talk. Besides, it wasn't his business.

"You're staying here tonight, by the way," Percy said lightly.

"Excuse me?"

Percy huffed in annoyance, like he'd had this conversation before. "You can't just leave after that. Those guys will still be out there. You look like you were hit by a truck and besides, my mom would kill me if I didn't help you. You're safe here. At least catch a few hours."

Normally, Clint would have refused point-blank, but something stopped him. An odd sense of tranquility washed over him, quieting the usual paranoia that came with his job. He actually did feel safe here with his kid who couldn't be more than sixteen. He seemed like the type of guy who would help anyone who came his way, that loyal friend who would have your back no matter what. That wasn't something you could fake. And Clint was a good judge of character.

"Fine."

That earned him a lopsided grin. Percy moved to the cupboard and pulled out a spare blanket. "Do you want the bed?"

"The floor is fine."

"Suit yourself."

Clint spread out the blanket beneath the window and Percy turned off the light.

"Night, Clint."

"Night, kid," he said softly. Clint listened to the teen's breathing even out and then he too, dropped off to sleep.

He woke up just as the sun began to peek over the city, his internal clock telling him that it was almost three in the morning. His arm had been reduced to a dull throb and his head was surprising clear. He felt oddly refreshed after such a night and only a few hours of sleep.

He lay there, listening. Percy was still fast asleep. Clint got up silently, not wanting to wake up his kind host. He folded the blanket neatly and put it on the desk chair, and found a spare sheet of paper and a pen, scratching a messy note.

Thanks, Kid.

Clint looked around the room one last time and slipped out the window.