Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Personally, Percy would rank being a C- average student at an A+++ average school as a close second to the stables at the Triple G Ranch on a scale of shitty things in his life.

Midtown was a good school, a great school in fact, and Percy had no clue what strings Paul had pulled to get them to allow some kid who’s been expelled from every school that had dared to take him on. The teachers were among the best he’s ever had, but that was probably to be expected from such a fancy school. Shockingly, the kids weren’t awful either, not like they usually were at schools like this. A lot of them were super focused on academics, there was nothing wrong with that, it was actually impressive how dedicated they were to it, and it actually felt like it was rubbing off on him a little bit. Only a little though, because nothing could make Percy enthusiastic about deciphering Shakespearean.

When he’d gotten accepted, Percy was ready to do the bare minimum to stay enrolled and hopefully pass the grade, but now he found himself trying to do well in a way he hadn’t since Chiron was his teacher. His friends called it the ‘Midtown Mindset’, Percy called it peer pressure. Unfortunately, his grandfather's plan of taking over the world was not the most compatible with an academic comeback, so sometimes missions or other monsters would lead to him skipping class or not being able to study as much as he wanted. 

Wow. Midtown made him want to study for midterms. What a school.

So now one may be asking by now, “So what’s the issue Percy? You’ve given nothing but praise to Midtown so far!” The thing that made Midtown an absolute pain in his demigodly behind was the fact that everyone really cared about their grades. So much so that nobody would risk partnering with the second most notorious class skipper in the school, no matter how much they liked him. 

Nobody but the most notorious flake at Midtown: Peter Parker, who happened to share a history class with him. Don’t get him wrong, Percy thought Peter Parker was a pretty cool guy, even if they didn’t talk much, but between the two of them they probably had more absences than the rest of the Midtown student body combined.

A few months ago, Percy would’ve accepted his fate, (he was still tempted to give up and try again next year), but his history grade was currently dangerously close to a B, the highest grade he’d had in a few years. His hours spent toiling over swimming letters were close to paying off, and if he did well on this midterm, it’d give him his first ever B on a report card. It was like a fire was lit under him, and Percy wondered if this was what Annabeth felt when she was determined to do something. If so, he understood why she got so into it, because the pure ambition he felt might just grant him the will to overpower his ADHD. The project they were assigned was too perfect, like the world was handing him a good grade on a silver platter.

The project? Study the themes of three ancient Greek or Roman myths and how those themes showcased their culture. Then they had to make a poster board for each with significant figures of the myth. Percy was innately familiar with several of these myths, (fighting them would do that to a guy), so he could probably even make up a few of his own themes. Now, the only thing standing between Percy Jackson and a good grade was Kronos and Peter Parker’s terrible attendance. (He was only worried about one of those things, and it wasn’t the one he probably should’ve been.)

—

The most dangerous thing about becoming Spider-Man thus far was probably the ire of his exasperated classmates. It wasn’t that Peter cared about school less than he used to, but the random spikes of his spidey-sense demanded his attention immediately, no matter what he was doing. 

This mindset had led to a dangerous decline in Peter’s grades, bringing him uncomfortably close to his first B. This would not stand, if he could figure out spider powers, he could figure out how to get this midterm done in a timely manner. Hopefully Percy shared the same sentiment as he did.

Percy Jackson was a new student— well new for their standards. Most of their class had known each other since they were five, so anytime someone new transferred in, it was a notable event. He was Mr. Blofis’ stepson, and initially seemed very resigned to flunking out, but the Midtown mindset had gotten to him, and he definitely worked harder than a lot of people these days. Except for his attendance. Percy Jackson was awful at showing up for anything. Peter couldn’t judge him too harshly though, because his attendance was just as bad, even if he was fighting crime and Percy was just doing who knows what. 

Maybe he also had superpowers that came with the need to fight crime.

Crime fighting aside, if neither of them took action, this midterm would be the death of them both.

“So, when are you free to work on the project?” Peter asked hopefully, shoving down his fears that his history grade would be the next victim of Spider-Man. 

Percy sighed, “I’m free whenever for the most part— my uncle randomly decides that the fate of the world lies on my ability to run errands though, so that might mess with things.” His lip twitched up into a ghost of a smirk as he explained, “We can probably work on it at my place if we need to.” He offered, and Peter felt himself relax just a bit because it seemed like Percy was taking it just as seriously as he was. However, that meant Peter had to come up with an excuse for his random absences as well. He had to come up with something convincing, but something that’d also explain why he was so secretive about where he was going. 

In hindsight, Peter should’ve come up with something weeks ago when he first started ditching class to fight crime. However, he didn’t, and he would forever pay the price for that. “I have irritable bowel syndrome. That’s why I leave class all the time.” 

What a great impression to make on his project partner, hopefully he didn’t just scare the guy off. Peter really should’ve thought about this sooner.

Percy nodded slowly, confusion evident on his face as the fake pieces fell into place, and just when Peter thought he wouldn’t say anything, “I guess that’s pretty crappy to deal with.” The surprised laugh that escaped him garnered a few confused looks from their classmates. 

Aside from the one comment, Percy had thankfully elected to brush past the topic of Peter’s fake IBS in favor of discussing the project. They had the rest of the class period to arrange plans for the project, as most people at Midtown were involved in extracurriculars, Percy on the swim team, and Peter on band and the academic decathlon team. As they planned, Peter found himself very quickly becoming fond of Percy Jackson. Odd comments about some of the myths aside,  he was surprisingly knowledgeable about Greek mythology and the characters that those myths revolved around. Even though they’d been talking about all sorts of ancient writings in class, Percy was still able to figure out what they were talking about much faster than anyone else he knew. They ended up on the story of Icarus, and before he knew it, they were organizing dates to meet up and work on the project.

A week later, things were going great. Crime had been minimal the entire week, and the only incident that coincided with the project had been resolved very quickly, and Percy’s mysterious uncle hadn’t called for him to run any errands. Over the course of that week, Peter had realized that Percy’s knowledge of Greek myths was almost encyclopedic. He was tempted to try and recruit him for the academic decathlon team if he knew about anything else as much as he did myths.

“What got you into mythology? You really know a ton about it.” Peter finally asked after Percy almost immediately recalled how some Greek monster that he hadn’t even heard prior had been defeated by Hercules.

“Ah—“ Percy hesitated for a moment, seeming almost nervous about something,  “My dad was super into it, so he wanted to spread the love I guess.” He chuckled before looking back at the project, obviously trying to change the subject. Usually Peter would’ve obliged, but something stuck out about Percy’s answer, something that was biting at him.

He had referred to his dad in the past tense. It would make sense, as the man had never been at the apartment on the few occasions that Peter had been over, and for as much as Percy talked about his mom, his dad had never been mentioned. “Your dad…” Peter didn’t know if he had any right asking about this, “Is he… around still?” Percy looked confused for a moment, before his jaw went slack.

“Oh, no, he’s very much alive! Wow that gave off the wrong impression, he’s just kind of a deadbeat.” Peter didn’t need a mirror to know that his face was bright red from embarrassment. Seriously, what kind of person just asks their school not-quite-but-definitely-almost-friend if their dad is dead? “Oh dude, don’t worry about it, if I were you, I’d probably think he’s dead too.” Percy reassured him, but it didn’t do much to erase the embarrassment. 

Against all odds, things were going well— until it didn’t.

The wrench thrown in the metaphorical machine that was Peter and Percy’s midterm came not in the form of some angry thugs, but as Tony Stark. The Iron Man, and also Percy’s mysterious uncle, but to a lesser extent.

Iron Man himself had shown up in Peter’s apartment, then offered (lightly blackmailed him) a new suit and a ride to Germany to help him work things out with the Avengers. That was three days he’d be gone, three days that he had to sacrifice. 

“You mean you have to leave tomorrow?” Percy asked, taken aback by the turn of events. Peter nodded guiltily, but before he could feel too bad, Percy huffed, “Don’t worry about it man, I get it. I can handle your end of the art stuff while you’re gone.” After no less than forty apologies and offers to bring his share with him, Peter got to packing.  He felt bad, but Percy had assured him that he could handle it, and Peter believed him. Percy, despite his reputation, had been remarkably punctual when it came to their meetings for the project. He had little reason to believe that Percy wouldn’t stay true to his word.

Oh, how wrong he was. Three days later, only two days off from the deadline, Peter returned to a less than ideal situation. Percy’s mysterious uncle had finally decided to strike, and send him to go pick up a new medical device he’d been prescribed while the only place it was in stock was two hours away from Queens. As a result, they were on a bit of a time crunch. It wasn’t Percy’s fault at all, but that was the truth of the situation. It was nothing horrible, but definitely a bit nerve wracking, and they’d have to meet up a bit more frequently than they previously planned. That meant meeting after the swim team and band were finished. Since they were meeting later than usual, it would cut into his usual patrol times, but the late afternoon was usually sparse of crime, so Queens could make do without Spider-man for slightly longer than usual.

—

One of these days, Percy would finally be relieved of his position of Olympus’ favorite lost object locator. It was really starting to get ridiculous: Zeus’ Master Bolt, Ares’ shield, Hades’ Helm of Darkness, the Golden Fleece, Bessie, Ariadne’s String, and now Hades’ sword that was stolen. The Gods’ inability to keep up with things really needed to be studied, because Percy was tired of having to go look for things, especially after he had assured Peter that he would take care of the project while he was gone on his internship with Tony Stark. 

Speaking of Iron Man, Percy didn’t think he was too fond of Tony Stark. The first time he’d met the man, he’d given Peter a heart attack and given a, for lack of better phrasing, incredibly suspicious internship offer. On a normal day, Percy wouldn’t consider himself the suspicious type, but the way that Peter had been so cagey about what happened during his short stint in Germany put him off. In a way, it reminded him of the way that Percy had to scramble for something believable every time he was asked about demigodly activity. 

So if Percy was a betting man? He’d stake everything on saying that Tony Stark had something to do with Peter’s strange behavior. Not to mention that the man had been eyeing him like a hawk. Something told him that Stark was hiding something, and Percy didn’t like whatever it was one bit. Unfortunately, Percy’s experiences as a demigod probably weren’t applicable to his mortal friend, no matter how smart he was, so he had to keep his suspicions to himself, and accept that he and Peter would have to work overtime in order to compensate for the lost time.

That was why the annoying, non-Mrs. O’Leary hellhound that was chasing him was about to make him late was about to face the full fury of a guy with way too much stuff to do. The hellhound itself wasn’t as much of an issue as what came after. Just after the monster exploded into golden dust, Percy finally noticed that he had an audience.

If one were to ask Percy, he would confidently be able to say that this was the exact moment everything went to Hades, because as it turned out, Spider-man patrolled at around this time of the evening. Spider-man, who despite the mask, Percy could tell was gaping at the scene before him.

Chapter Text

As Peter swung around the corner, he expected to see a fight. Maybe some disgruntled teenagers who couldn’t talk it out, a purse snatcher who picked a feisty target, or even a gang situation. What Peter found was none of those things. Of all the things Spider-man knew how to handle, Percy Jackson fighting a dog much larger than what he believed to be possible was not on that list. His spidey-sense blared— whatever this thing was had to be dangerous— the only thing that Peter had experienced that could be comparable to Percy and the ‘dog’ was the time he caught a car. A car going forty miles right towards him was the only thing that compared to the conflict between Percy Jackson and this larger than life creature. The cherry on top? The thing that had Peter double checking that he wasn’t losing it? Percy looked almost bored fighting this dog that was the size of a tank with nothing but a sword. Not to mention the obvious question of where he’d even gotten a sword from. He’d been to Percy’s apartment several times, and he’d like to think that a sword would stick out against the otherwise perfectly normal apartment.

Before Peter could pry himself away from his place on a wall to help, Percy swung the sword in a wide arc, and the dog exploded into a cloud of golden dust. Spidey-sense quelled back down to a buzz at the back of his mind, rather than disappearing entirely like he would’ve expected with the dog being gone. For the first time in a while, Spider-man was at a loss for words. No quips, no puns, straight to the point, “What was that?” 

In any other situation, Percy’s expression of shock, regret, and utter confusion would’ve been funny, but Peter was too stunned to appreciate it. “Uh— what was what?” Percy floundered as his sword disappeared, shoving something into his pocket.

“That giant dog that you vaporized with a sword?” Peter’s voice rose against his will, and he couldn’t find it in him to care that he probably sounded more like a rubber ducky than a superhero.

Percy almost spoke again, but he froze as his eyes somehow widened even further than they already had been, “Wait— Peter?!” He sputtered, staring at him in disbelief. If Peter had been any less stunned by the accusation, he surely would’ve sputtered some weak defense against the accusation like he had when Mr. Stark had exposed him. Instead, he jumped down from the wall to take a closer look at Percy, landing in the pile of gold dust the dog had left behind. It was like a fog had been lifted, and he was seeing Percy for what he really was for the first time. The white in his hair was just a little bit too bright, while the black was just a little bit too dark, and his eyes were uncanny in the way that they looked a little bit too much like a storm waiting to drag him under. Everything about him was just a little bit too much.

The tension in the alleyway was tangible in a way that Peter thought to be only possible in literature before this. “So you saw the dog just now?” Percy asked carefully, and if Peter didn’t know any better, he’d think it was a test, because yes Percy, he did see the tank sized dog, if it could even be called that. Regardless, he nodded, and Percy deflated, swearing sharply under his breath. If Peter were a normal person, he wouldn’t have been able to make out what had been said, but unfortunately, Peter wasn’t exactly normal. Not to mention, if Peter was a normal guy, he wouldn’t be in this situation, wondering why his project partner was cursing the Fates. If it weren’t for the tank sized dog, Peter would be absolutely certain that he’d miscalculated on a swing and given himself a concussion. Based on the conclusions he was starting to make, he was only about 40 % sure that he didn’t have one.

Cursing the Fates, the massive dog, the oddly encyclopedic knowledge on all things Greek, “Greek mythology isn’t real, is it?” Peter couldn’t have willed his voice to be any louder than a whisper if he tried, and honestly? He didn’t try too hard, because surely that wasn’t the correct answer.  

For a blessed moment, Peter could pretend that Percy’s reaction to his guess was shocked by how ridiculous it was. Unfortunately, Parker luck was a very real thing. Percy huffed out a ghost of a laugh, “Yeah. It’s real. Leave it to you to somehow figure that out.”

—

Every day Percy found himself more and more convinced that his life was comedic relief for the Fates. Of course the first mortal friend he had made in years turned out to not only be clear sighted, but also Spider-man. Spider-man, the superhero whose possible identity as a demigod had been a widely debated topic at camp for nearly as long as he’s been active.  Some of them thought he was a minor god who had a bone to pick with Athena, or maybe that he was just a super blessed mortal. Others thought that he was an alien. Most of cabin nine thought that he was something like Iron Man, but with a spider gimmick. Annabeth thought that he was some sort of supersoldier, and Percy had been inclined to agree, having seen the vigilante on the news every once in a while. Spider-man being Percy’s project partner? Peter Parker? Never even in the realm of possibility. Spider-man obviously had no clue that Greek myths were real before today, so at least Malcolm owed him five drachma.

If only those five drachma could handle the fallout of Spider-man being clear sighted. 

The day where Percy claimed to be a good, or even decent person to break the news to someone about the reality of the world they live in would be the very same day that Tartarus froze over. As good as Percy was with coming up with stuff on the fly, he wasn’t exactly delicate with the wording of his plans, which is nice when he’s in a fight, because angry opponents are dumb opponents, but less so in any other situation.

“So that was a hellhound,” Percy really wished that his mom was here. Or Beckendorf. Or Silena. Or Annabeth. Or Malcolm. Or Chiron. Okay maybe not Chiron or Annabeth because they usually freaked out the new campers, but the point still stands, the only person who might be worse than him would be Travis or Connor.

Peter nodded dazedly, “So the uncle thing was a coverup? You were just fighting monsters?” 

Leave it to Peter to pick the absolute worst question to ask for someone new to Greek nonsense. Percy sighed deeply.

It was time to rip off the bandaid.

“Uh— no, Uncle Z is real, he just also happens to be a part of the Greek pantheon.” Percy explained dumbly, and if he listened carefully, he swore he could hear the Fates laughing at him.

Spider-man dropped his head into his hands, “Percy… please tell me that you did not tell me that the king of the gods is your annoying uncle,” After a moment of silence, Peter mumbled, “Your dad. It’s Poseidon, isn’t it? You being on the swim team has got to be cheating somehow.” Distantly, Percy wondered if Athena was missing a kid.

They decided that the conversation that they were about to have was going to be a long one, and one that should be held away from wandering ears. Peter’s apartment was closer and his aunt was still working, so they’d have the place to themselves. Peter intended on keeping his identity as close to his chest as he could, which made Peter’s request to keep it a secret from May expected, but still unnerving. The more Percy thought about it, the more glad he was that his mom knew about the godly side of his life, no matter how much he tried to keep the messier parts hidden from her.

He couldn’t imagine someone trying to break the news to her that he wouldn’t be coming home from camp, especially if she didn’t know what was going on.

The feeling of having your perception of someone completely shattered in an instant was one that Percy could best compare to when his body decided to feel like it was falling when he was half asleep. Even though he had already figured out that Peter was Spider-man, it was still jarring to see his face under the mask. It reminded Percy vaguely of what it felt like when he encountered Luke, minus the murder attempts and betrayal of course. 

“So— how’d you end up rocking the spandex?” Percy asked once Peter had finished getting dressed.

He sighed, “I got bitten by a radioactive spider,” He explained awkwardly, and Percy suddenly got the sense that this was his first time trying to explain this to someone. “I got super sick for a couple days, but when I got better I was better than ever. My asthma disappeared, I didn’t need my glasses anymore, I stuck to walls, and I could bench press a car. I realized that I should make some use of this power, and the rest is history.” It was weird to think that Peter was capable of all the things that he was. Demigods were essentially premium humans, so Percy himself definitely had what would be classified as enhanced strength, but Peter? Peter’s strength was unheard of, probably up there with the likes of Hercules when he was a demigod. Not to mention, it was weird to think that Peter had a choice in the whole truant hero situation.

Knowing Peter though, there wasn’t any other real choice for him. He’d probably eat his spandex before ignoring a call for help. “So, how did you end up fighting hellhounds in alleyways?” Peter asked in return, an edge of apprehension in his voice.

Percy laughed lightly, “My mom slept with a god, so I apparently smell like a five star buffet to every monster in the tristate area,” he took Riptide from his pocket, twirling it between his fingers, “Monsters don’t really care if I’m in class, so if they come knocking, not answering isn’t really an option.” Peter’s look of absolute horror was a sudden reminder that Percy’s life wasn’t quite normal, even to people whose lives were comparable to his.

Heroes were vessels of change.

Superheroes were made of hope. They were made when someone looked at all the evils that life had to offer and still saw something worth protecting. 

Greek heroes were born from desperation. There is no kindness born from desperation, they mixed like oil and water. They existed to fight and they fought to survive.

Peter was a superhero. Something happened, and he decided injustice was something that could not stand. He decided that there was hope for the future.

Camp Half-Blood was a hopeless place. They came, they trained, and one day they would die, and that was it. At the end of the day, the goal was survival.

Percy was already growing tired of survival, he wanted to give hope a try.

Percy was a Greek hero, but by the Gods, he really wished he had the choice.

—

Peter and Percy’s best guess as to why he could suddenly see through the mist was that the spider bite had done it, and that he just hadn’t encountered any until he saw the hellhound.

The bite had cured him of asthma and needing glasses, so it wasn’t so far fetched to believe that it had also cleared his sight. If that wasn’t it? Then they had nothing. Apparently, Ms. Sally was also clear-sighted, but she had been that way since she was a kid, as were all the other clear sighted people Percy knew were. Despite the initial shock, Peter was beyond thankful that it was Percy who had introduced him to the world of monsters. He couldn’t imagine what would’ve happened if he just saw a random hellhound one day. At the same time though, he’d somehow managed to hide the fact that he now had superpowers from everyone he knew.

After that they shifted their focus to the top priority.

The project.

Now that they both had the whole truth, they were twice as determined to do well.

No monster or villain would rob them of the success they deserved on this midterm.

If Spider-man could save lives, Peter could save his grade.

Knowing that Percy was like him in some twisted way settled something that Peter didn’t realize needed to be settled. Maybe it was the reassurance that he wasn’t completely at fault for his struggles with managing school and Spider-man. Granted, Peter had all but brought it upon himself, but he didn’t think he had it in him to choose not to help someone. Percy understood what came from that better than anyone he’d ever met. 

The project was done in a matter of hours, before Aunt May even got home. Neither of them had any right to call themselves artists, but this was probably the closest it would get.

“Man, Rachel would be proud of what we’ve done today.” Peter knew Rachel, it was surprising that Percy knew her though. She took almost exclusively art based classes while he and Percy were on a more STEM based curriculum. 

Rachel was rich. Like, super rich, and super opposed to everything her dads company stood for. “You know Rachel Dare?” He asked, and Percy snapped his fingers at him.

“That’s what I was forgetting, Rachel’s also clear-sighted. I met her at the Hoover Dam, almost stabbed her, but it’s okay because she forgave me.” And wasn’t that a lot to process, quite possibly the richest person at Midtown was also privy to what lied beyond the mist. 

Also Percy almost stabbed her, and was weirdly casual about it.

They parted ways after that, as it was beginning to get late. The night felt unusually long, probably because Peter was no longer stressing about the midterm project that was due tomorrow.

What a day. He’d started it off by forgetting to actually start the toaster and ended it with the knowledge that Percy Jackson was half-god. 

Percy Jackson knew that he was Spider-man.

The next day came quickly. Peter was the one to turn into the poster because he was less likely to run into trouble on the way to school.

The hours dragged by, and Peter had been checking his grade every few minutes. He almost wished that his spidey-sense would go off so he could have something to think about that wasn’t his history grade.

Until finally, the grade book updated.

His final grade was a 93% A.

Percy had a 78%, and his grade went up anywhere nearly as much as Peter’s, he had a solid B.

They’d done it. The two biggest flakes at Midtown had somehow managed an 100% on their midterm.